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Chapter Six

"301 PCE"

(Levina's POV)

15 years later…

I'm a free child, but a lonely one at that. I spend my days roaming Radiator Springs, and today is no exception. I wander quietly down the middle of the street, not even worrying about potential traffic. The chances of being hit by a fast moving vehicle here are about as likely as seeing a shooting star- on a sunny day. That's what I hate most about this place. It's so secluded and deserted that I sometimes wonder if we are even a part of the world.

Today is a Sunday, so I don't have any homeschooling to attend, leaving the whole day to me. Flo teaches me twice a week, and Mom the remainder. I think the only reason Aunt Flo teaches is to give Mom a break from me. I know she goes out on those days, I just don't know where to. I like to imagine she goes into the city to visit my dad.

From an early age she instilled upon me that my father loves me, but there are strong circumstances that won't allow him to see me. I ponder the idea that maybe he's in prison. That's my best theory so far, but I can't fathom my mother getting involved with a jailbird. Even if he is though, I'd still like to see him…

I stride into the Cozy Cone lobby and find my mother bent over a piece of lined paper at her desk. She doesn't hear me until I plop down onto one of the chairs with a loud sigh. Her head bolts up and she quickly folds the paper up. I watch her slide it discreetly to her lap while she asks me, "Vina! What are you doing here so early?"

I shrug, "Bored out of my mind. Hey, Mom…is dad a jailbird? If he's in trouble with the law then it's OK, I won't be afraid-."

"Levina! Don't speak that way of your own father!" she says in utter shock.

"But, Mom! How can I speak of him at all if I don't even know him?" I cry out with anger. I want to add a spiteful comment about her seeing him behind my back, but I don't.

She gets that distant look in her eyes, and for a second she looks like a different person. Then her gaze flickers in a heartbeat and she's herself again. "I'm sorry, hun, but you're just going to have to wait until you're older to understand. Now here," she extends a handful of coins, "Go run along and buy a popsicle or something at Flo's."

I huff at her distraction but do as told. Sitting on the steps of the abandoned curio shop I enjoy my cherry flavoured treat in the hot afternoon sun. I lick the last bit of sugary liquid and toss the sticks to the ground. I don't see anybody around so I decide to take another tour of Lizzie's old shop.

Lizzie died a year after I was born, and no one ever bothered to clean her place out. Her grave is out at Willy's Butte, beside the only other headstone that is so weather-beaten I can't even depict the name on it. I asked Ramone about it once too. He shrugged me off and told me to ask my mother. So, I did. What a nightmare that was. She threw a fit exclaiming she didn't know and that I ask too many questions. Then she threw more money at me for a soda and that's when I learned not to ask for any more answers.

Most of the people here treat me like that though. They exchange pitiful looks around me and treat me as fragile as glass. Don't they know who my mother is? She doesn't act it, but I know she had a fiercer attitude at one point. I don't know when she lost it, but she must have had it, I've got it in my blood. But no, everyone sees me as a weak child, except Mater and Doc.

Mater takes long drives around the county in his tow truck, and sometimes he lets me tag along. Other times he brings me out to the cow pasture. He taught me how to cow tip, and on special occasions he lets me taunt the Frank the bull until he chases us clear out of the field. Despite his age, Mater is the only real friend I've got.

And then there is Doc. He's like the grandfather I never had. He tells me countless stories about his racing days that keep me fascinated and listening. And when he doesn't feel like talking, he takes me out to help him restore an old race car. He found it years ago and there isn't much left but the frame, so the task keeps us busy.

But neither of them seem to have time for me today, so it looks like a little exploring will have to keep me entertained.

I walk around the muggy shop, examining odd trinkets as I go. Snow globes covered with films of dust, Route 66 memorabilia and an entire wall of bumper stickers fill the cluttered shop. I step closer to a cork board collaged with town photos, and inspect them with narrowed eyes. A photo in the right corner catches my eye and I pluck the pin from it. Bringing it closer, I notice it is one of the few coloured photos, indicating it is more recent.

In the image I see a dark-haired male leaning on the roof of a Porsche Carrera. I stare at his brilliant blue eyes and pristine smile, but something else draws my attention. The license plate of the car reads, "301 PCE". I rack my brain to recall where I've seen the familiar numbers and letters. Then it comes to me; the mounted license plate in my mother's bedroom.

Not the most action-packed one but it gives you the necessary background information. I hope this was still an enjoyable read, let me know with a review! Thanks so much! :)