The sun shone brightly in the pastel-coloured, candy-covered kingdom of Sugar Rush. It always shone there, but that didn't matter for any of its residents. They needed the sunlight to race on their famous racetrack without any significant harm; they couldn't drive in darkness.

Speaking of racing, there was a race going on right now. The 'Random Roster Race,' as it was called, was the most important race of the day because it determined who would race the next day. To miss out on it was the worst thing to happen if you were a racer.

Sugar Rush's fearless leader attempted many times to venture into the game's central coding and abolish the pay-to-play system the previous ruler installed, but each time she couldn't find it. She eventually gave up the search and, though it remained, just let everyone race; she didn't want anyone to feel the same abandonment she felt during her years as an outcast.

Currently, she was in first place with somewhat of a good lead on the rest of the racers. She believed that victory was hers for the taking, marking her forty-second day in a row on the board. She raced a long time for this great achievement; not even King Candy, the nefarious nougat that he turned out to be, got as high as a consecutive month on the board! To spoil this record would devastate her.

"Sweet Mother of Monkey Milk! I'm gonna do it!" she squealed in delight. The finish line was right in front of her and there was no way that anything bad could happen on that stretch of straight track.

That is, until she heard an alarm sound behind her.

"Wha—?" She couldn't think past that, for a giant glob of ice cream splat square on her and her prized kart.

"Oooh! A la mode!" said the booming announcer's voice for the game.

The ice cream started melting thanks to her kart's engine's heat, but she didn't get far when it finally went away. Three flaming hot 'sweet seekers' made contact with her and sent her flying high in the air.

"Why is this happening to me?!" No one heard her.

She realized that the racers were coming up on her fast. She prayed to God Mode that there wouldn't be anything else to harm her chances of winning. As soon as her kart touched the smoothed track, she gunned it for the finish. There weren't any mystery boxes behind her and there weren't any cherry bombs on the sidelines. She still had a chance!

WHOOOOOSH! ZOOOOOOM! VROOOOM!

Her jaw fell when she saw nine karts zooming past her with rocket boosters.

"NOOOO!" she screamed in anger. She closed her eyes tightly and focused on the finish line. Even though she told herself not to use her powers during the Random Roster, these were desperate times. Plus, this would be great practice for long-distance glitching.

She felt her pixels and the pixels of her kart pulsating and flickering blue sparks. She knew she was moving forward, but even at her speed she didn't know if it would even make a difference. Once she opened her eyes, she instantly closed them again not to glitch farther, but because it was so dusty. A fit of coughing also caused her to stamp her foot down on the accelerator pedal, bumping into the kart in front of her.

The tap didn't affect the kart in front of her; she went spinning out of control for a few seconds.

Once the dust settled, it was revealed that she was inches away from the finish line while the nine winners paraded towards the winner's circle to claim their spot on the roster. Deciding to vent her anger later that night, she cruised over the finish line in tenth place.

"I was sooo close!" she told herself. She pulled her signature messy kart to the side of the track and out of the way for the remaining racers. Taking off her helmet, she tossed her black hair around, bits of candy flying out of it everywhere. If there was anything negative about racing, it was that she felt dirty and uncomfortable after each race. But compared to her immense love for the sport, it was an insignificant price to pay.

Looking up at the jumbotron, she saw her name and her profile picture blink into the tenth place slot directly underneath nine larger boxes arranged three-by-three, already filled. Seeing her name calmed her down slightly. She was grateful to even have her name up there on the board. Over a year ago she'd have been condemned to the fungeon—fun dungeon—if she even dared step in line to pay the entry fee. All that changed thanks to her new friends (and her unveiled lineage as rightful ruler of Sugar Rush helped a little bit).

As she applauded her opponents' win, she told herself that she'd sneak off to the secluded candy cane tree forest and practice avoiding power-ups and obstacles there (Diet Cola Mountain and its hidden track were still settling down after its active eruption and considered too dangerous at the moment). She needed the extra practice anyway because she felt she was getting too comfortable with winning.

"Telephone call for you, President Vanellope," came a dull voice that snapped her out of her fantasies. She jumped back a little, scared, only to realize it was her green Warhead steward, Sour Bill.

"Oh, geez, you scared me." She stuck out her tongue. "Who is it?"

"He said you'd know who it is," he droned. "He asked for President 'Fart Feathers.'"

"Admiral Body Odor!" she cheered, a smile taking over her once gloomy expression. If there was anyone who could manage to cheer her up at a time like this, he fit the bill perfectly. Even the littlest things he did always brought a ray of sunshine in her dour day.

She instantly forgot her plans to practice when Sour Bill handed her the portable phone.

"What's up, Stinkbrain?" she asked, curling the phone wire on her finger.

"Oh, you know, nothin' much," came the other, much deeper and much more gruff, voice on the line. "Felix is out tonight and I just was wonderin' if you wanted to come over for a little video game session. Nothing big."

She knew just what he was planning, and it was much bigger than 'nothing much.' They'd spend the entire night indulging themselves in over-caffeinated energy drinks, a boatload of the sugary sweets she'd smuggle into his game, and maybe an occasional pie or two… that is, if his neighbour was willing to part with some.

After their feast, they'd go into his room to play Mario Kart Wii or some other really fun racing game. He'd set up his comically small television for the preferred console of the night and prop his back on his tree stump; she'd sit up on his cushion-y stomach or lie down on his massive shoulder. And whenever she won, she'd jump hysterically on his larger-than-life bed—he made a rule that she couldn't jump up and down on him.

This'd go on all night until the sugar overload would crash her system and she needed bedtime. Though president, the little nine-year-old still had the internal clock of just that: A nine-year-old. She'd fall asleep one moment and she'd wake up in her own doughy bed inside her grand castle without knowing how she got there.

In a way she was appreciative of the care he gave her. His actions almost made him feel like a brother, if not a father.

Almost.

She'd been alone all her life cycle without knowing any sort of family. She had to fend for herself finding parts for her pedal-powered kart, the Lickety Split, let alone wrappers to bundler herself up in at night. And now she had a friend of her own to call family, a family that at this moment was inviting her over for the enjoyment of her company.

It didn't seem possible, but her smile grew even bigger knowing that it'd be an epic night with the one person who understood her. She closed her eyes so tight and held her breath. In a cobalt flicker, she disappeared.