"I can't believe that you wasted your time with that girl," Paige's father, Nick, complained as the two of them walked towards their small pit area, "Did you not see how disorganized she was? She probably doesn't even know a single thing about drag racing," He shook his head as Paige sighed, "What is the point of even winning this championship if you're not going to bother talking to the bigger newspersons, Paige?" He glanced to his right, catching a glimpse of his daughter, "Are you listening to me?"

"Yes," Paige grunted, slowly coming to a stop when she caught the eyes of Robert staring in their direction, "I'm listening," She answered quietly, "If it pleases you, I'll call around tonight,"

Her answer appeared to be satisfactory as Nick gave a tight smile, "Good," He said simply, walking without Paige towards the pick-up truck, now equipped with a trailer that held Paige's dragster. She sighed – a long, deep breath slowly exerting from her lungs, pushing its way to the fresh summer air.

The sun was slowly setting beneath the horizon as the sky turned into a mixture of vermillion and palatinate – tangling together in color, leisurely darkening the day as night arose to its designated time period. It was still warm outside, which led Paige to feel discomfort under her suit as she stood where her father left her.

Robert approached Paige with his usual smile, "Paige," He started, calmly, "Patrick brought your bag with your change of clothes," He patted her on the back gently, "Don't be too hard on yourself, my dear," He said, as if he could read her mind, "Nick's just like that, you know?"

"Right," Paige said, shaking her head, "So, Pat brought the bag?" Robert nodded, "Can you ask him to bring it to me? I promised an interview earlier, and I know if I head to the truck, Dad's going to want to leave now,"

"Well, you're the captain," He said, saluting Paige before sauntering off, leaving her alone only for a minute or two, and returning with Paige's purple duffle bag, "Here you go,"

Paige grasped the handle, and pulled the bag towards her, "Thanks," She smiled, feeling grateful that she had a person like Robert in her life, "Really, Rob, thank you for… for everything,"

"Oh, hon," He said, placing his hand over his heart, "You're going to make me shed a tear,"

"You're a grown man,"

"Only real men cry, Paige," He smirked, "Now get changed, and talk to that cutie,"

Of course… Paige thought, turning around and heading towards the port-a-potties, Of course, Robert would notice. She entered the small space and shut the door behind her; swiftly, with precision, she peeled off her suit. It was damp from sweat, worn from the usage over the past years by serving its purpose. As Paige slipped on her regular clothes, her mind fluttered to the brunette named Emily Fields.

Robert was right, Emily was quite the looker, and she had certainly gained Paige's attention. With Paige's father running her schedule, Paige hardly had a chance to be around others – professionally or personally. And, despite this being an interview, she could imagine that her time that she would share with Emily would be memorable for the time being.

She left the stall with her bag after she finished the finally touches to being a normal woman, and headed towards the area from earlier, which was now deserted by the large news stations and journalists who had deemed the event over. However, as expected, her dark eyes fell upon the brunette, who stood by herself, waiting.

"Hello," Paige greeted, with a smile, "I'm glad that you stayed,"

Tucking her hair behind her ear, Emily mirrored Paige's smile, "I'm glad that you could let me interview you… well… again,"

She waved her hand in dismissal, "Don't worry about it, I don't mind honestly," Paige quickly scanned the girl before her – Emily was dressed comfortably; jeans, a plain white shirt, and sneakers. She appreciated the simple look. "Have you thought of questions to ask,"

Emily nodded, "I did," Flipping through her notepad, she took a deep breath, "Why did you go into racing?" She asked, looking at Paige with expectancy

Paige shrugged, not giving too much thought to the question, "I've always liked racing, especially as a kid," She shrugged once more, "My dad just pushed my love into a career,"

She waited as Emily jot down Paige's response into the notepad, "How often do you train?"

"Almost everyday," Paige replied instantly, "Maybe for five or six hours, sometimes more"

"That's a lot…" Emily responded, "I bet a lot has gone into your dragster too… I heard that you handle a 500 cubic-inch Hemi engine when you race,"

Paige raised her brows in amusement, so she does know some drag race information, "Yes, I do, but my team has put in a lot of time and work into the engine… and making sure that everything runs smoothly…"

Before the next question was asked, Paige could sense what it would be about, so she braced herself as Emily spoke, "So… in 2011… there was an incident," Emily started, hesitantly, refusing to meet the eyes of the young racer, "And it was suspected that you wouldn't race again… how does it feel to be back and win after being absent from the track scene for so long…?"

"Feels great, actually," Paige started, choosing her words carefully, "There were tough times, there were even times when I thought that I'd never race again, but this is my passion, and I couldn't give up on myself like that,"

Emily had a small smile on her face as Paige answered; she understood Paige's perspective after the incident – even found it motivational, "I'm glad that you could overcome such an event,"

"Me too," Paige agreed quietly, "So, anymore questions?'

"I think that's all I need," Emily said, looking down at her notepad and then back to Paige, "Thank you so much for this,"

"It's fine, it's fine, you don't have to thank me,"

"There's got to be something I can do to make it up to you,"

Paige contemplated, "You know, there is one thing you could do for me,"

"All right, what is it,"

"Just write a really great article for me," Paige said, "I'd actually like to read it,"


"Paige," Robert cooed quietly, placing a gentle hand on the sleeping girl's shoulder. She slowly roused from her slumber, and tiredly eyed Robert, "Hey, sleepyhead," He started before sliding a newspaper under her arm, "I got you the paper that you were talking about,"

"Thanks," Paige croaked, rolling onto her back, "What time is it,"

"About nine o'clock," He said, "Your dad's already at the track,"

Paige groaned, "I just want a day off,"

Robert understood; he knew that Paige couldn't slack around as long as Nick was nearby, he wouldn't allow it, and, despite all of Robert's efforts, he couldn't get Nick to slow Paige down, "Paige,"

"Noooo…" She pulled her blankets over her head, as if it were an invisible cloak, Robert chuckled.

"Come on, girl," He urged humorously, "If you get up, I'll treat you to something,"

Paige peeked above her blankets, "Treat me to what"

"Hm," He rubbed his bald head, contemplating, "Well, you're too young for a beer, so that's out of the question,"

"You've let me have beer before,"

"And I'm pretty sure that I told you that we were going to erase that from both of our memories,"

"Erase what,"

"Ha-ha, okay, Paige, how about this one; you get out of bed, I'll… let you take my motorcycle out,"

"For how long?"

"Two hours,"

"Four"

"Two and a half"

"Four," Paige repeated, firmly, as she sat up in bed, waiting for Robert to challenge her.

"Three," He replied, "Three hours and I'll have Roxie whip up some waffles for you too,"

Roxie, Robert's wife, was the best cook that Paige had ever met, so, without any hesitation, "Deal," She pushed her blankets off of her body, and swung her feet to the side of her bed, "I haven't had a meal from Roxie for so long," Paige started, "I'm deprived,"

"Don't worry, I'll tell her to make a lot for you," He patted her knee, "Now, read what that pretty gal wrote about you," He started, "I've already read it myself, and I must say, fantastic choice, Paige,"

"That good, huh?" She asked as her eyes scanned the gray of the newspaper, instantly recognizing herself on the cover. Underneath, came words:

ROSEWOOD, PA – Paige McCullers, 20, the woman inside the 8,000 horse powered dragster, competed and won the National Hot Rod Association championship this past Saturday in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.

On a quarter mile track, McCullers made a dazzling run of 3.992 seconds at the highlight speed of 326.74 mph, making her the fastest competitor in recent NHRA history.

After making her first run since her incident in 2011, where her dragster caught fire after overturning due to a failed parachute deployment, she has proved that her absence from the racing circle did not impact her racing capabilities as she held first place, with a $30,000 cash prize.

It is obvious that McCullers and her team of three, including her father, Nick McCullers, a former racer as well, has diligently placed time and effort into the comeback. Noting a subtle change in technique, the McCullers dragster had been renovated – swapping its fiberglass body for carbon fiber, which actively increased aerodynamics, and switching from Goodyear tires to Hoosier.

With her charming personality, McCullers left us with an aspiring quote, "There were tough times […] even times when I thought that I'd never race again, but this is my passion, and I couldn't give up on myself like that,"

- Emily Fields, Rosewood Times.

"Hm," Paige hummed, "This is pretty good," She placed the newspaper down beside her on the bed

"It is," Robert held in the smirk that was begging to make its appearance on his face, "You should give her a call," He said, watching her look at his with modest confusion, "To at least tell her that you read her article, you know?"

"Wouldn't that be weird,"

"I think it would be a compliment," He replied, "Think about it – a personal phone call to praise her article – that sounds pretty complimentary, doesn't it?"

Paige shrugged, "I'll call after practice," she glanced over at her clock, "Because I'm really late, and dad's probably going to blow a gasket"


I should have mentioned this in the last chapter, but, originally this was on ~Harpfish's channel (who has changed to ~douxx since) a year or two ago, and, before she deleted all of her writings, I asked if I could use this general idea. So, some of this may seem familiar because it is familiar - but it's in my style of writing, and I'm going to write it differently.

Also, thanks to everyone who read, favorited, followed, or reviewed this - I highly appreciate it, so I'll try to update often.