Addicted To
Crow
"Where are we going, Rex?" five-year-old Speed asked. They were riding bikes but not to Thunderhead like he thought. It was June, hot but with a cool breeze.
"Somewhere different," the auburn-haired boy said. He refused to say more about the subject. Although Speed was on training wheels and Rex wanted to go faster, he rode right next to the black-haired boy.
When Speed found out when Rex turned left into a field. It was big-ginormous-which surprised him. A) There was a field and B) Rex never cared about nature, really.
He braked, staring. Rex laughed. "Come on! Luckily, you're not allergic to anything, unlike me!" Speed followed Rex's example, dumping his bike on the sidewalk and stepped into the field.
It was full of dandelions, clover, and wild flowers. They played tag until they were panting and exhausted, longing for Mom's lemonade.
They were lying in a patch of clover, laughing, as high as outer space. Rex sneezed. Speed stood up and gathered a bouquet of wildflowers.
"Here," he said, presenting the flowers to his older brother. Rex smiled.
"Thanks!" he said, kissing, just a peck, on Speed's cheek.
Sixteen-year-old Rex was beating all the racers on Thunderhead. He was aiming for the record, Speed knew. He turned to Pops, excitedly, "He's gonna win, Pops! Nobody can beat him! They're just racin' for second!"
Pops grunted. Cheering the Mach 4 on, the ten-year-old boy willed the car to faster.
Speed was right: Rex set the record. Later he asked, "How did you do it, Rex?"
Rex crouched down and ruffled Speed's hair. "Should I tell you?" he mused. Smiling, he laughed at Speed's rapt attention. "Now only if you paid attention to school like this." Speed made a face. "Okay, I'll tell you: I was racing for my life. That's how I did it."
"Huh?" Speed asked. He thought he understood. "Like, you put your heart and soul into it?"
Rex smiled tightly. "Yes, that's how."
After Rex died, Pops wrapped all the pictures of Rex in newspaper blankets, put them in boxes, and took them down to the basement. Pops wanted to paint over Rex's walls too, but Mom forbade it.
All Speed had left of his brother was a picture he took during the summer, of Rex, eighteen, sitting on the hood of the Mach 5, smiling his true smile for Speed and the Mach 4, sleeping under a tarp in the garage.
Sixteen-year-old Speed was irritated. He slumped in the Mach 6, dejected. He was at Thunderhead and was failing to imitate Rex's beautiful style that cut past the competition. Maybe Pops was right; he needed experiance.
He felt like a crow chasing a butterfly. Rex's style just couldn't be imitated by anyone, including his little brother.
He tried to sleep but couldn't, it was after midnight. Speed pummeled his pillow thinking. Then he remembered:
"A car isn't a dead piece of metal, Speed. She's a living breathing thing. Just listen. She'll tell you what she needs."
It was 1:00AM when Speed pulled into Thunderhead. He flicked on the highbeams, ready to go.
"Stop steering and start driving!"
Gunning the motor, tires screaming, he felt more alive than he had in years. Laughing, he aimed for the dog-bowls, successfully looping. He felt reckless, blood coursing through his brain. The world was crystal-clear.
He felt like he was ten, when Rex would let him drive…
Eighteen-year-old Speed moaned as Racer X put his hand up his shirt, claiming his lips. They were in the Mach 5 and Speed's heart rejoiced, feeling closer to X (Rex) than he had in a long time.
"I feel bad that…ah…you're doing all the work," Speed said, semi-coherent. "Why don't I drive for a bit."
"Well," Racer X said, "You need a good lesson first." Speed sighed as the butterfly that he thought he lost tended him.
A/N: Well, if you hadn't guessed, this is inspired by The Crow and the Butterfly by Shinedown. I just got the CD and it's one of my favorites. Sorry if I botched the movie quotes. Thanks iloveme5895 for reviewing!
Nierx