Letty loved cars. Since her uncle down in Mexico first showed her the thrill of going north of 100 mph on an open stretch of road on her tenth birthday, she'd been in love.
It wasn't her fault that her mom's Honda Civic crashed into the telephone pole.
The steering wheel kept getting in her line of sight and she couldn't get the car to drive in a straight line. Next thing she knew, a telephone pole jumped out of nowhere.
Ten year old Letty turned off the ignition and tried to open the driver's door. It was stuck. She grunted and heaved but it wouldn't budge. The crash had warped the driver's side so that the door wouldn't open. Snarling and swearing in Spanish, she punched the steering wheel.
"Hey chiquita." She heard a deep voice calling out. She looked across street to see a tall teenage boy make his way to yank open the Civic's passenger door. "Get out this way, it'll be easier."
Letty climbed over the console, and into the boy's clasp. He lifted her out and set her down, looking her over for injuries. The girl had some luck; she didn't have a scratch on her. He shook his head with a mystified smile. Even luckier was that she just happened to crash right across the street from his dad's garage, DT Automechanics.
"You're a tiny little thing." He said. "How'd you even manage to reach the pedals from the seat?"
She scowled at the teenager in front of her. "I'm not tiny, you're just big."
The boy looked surprised for a second before he laughed and reached over to wipe the tears from her face. Kid didn't even know she was crying. "Alright whatever you say chiquita. Come on, let's get to my dad's garage." He offered her his hand and led her across the street. "You're lucky you didn't get hurt. What's your name? You remember your ma's number?"
"Name's Letty. What's yours?"
"Dom."