Guess Who's Coming to Breakfast!

There was a Mercedes parked outside of the Racer residence when Speed and I woke up the next day. I ran into his room and asked, "Have you seen that car?!" But the question proved futile when I realized he was staring out his window.

"Sweet set of wheels," he murmured. "Wonder whose it is." I patted him on the shoulder, said, "I'll be right back," and ran into my room.

I pulled a few drawers of my desk in and out until I found my pink and black binoculars, and then rejoined Speed. I put them to my eyes to glance at the license plate on the back. It read "PTRCA SHMU."

"Speed, that's my car!" I yelled. I shook my head clear and revised my statement, "I mean, it was my car. But I left it with …" I ran down the steps.

"Trixie!" called Speed. "Trixie, what's going—?"

But when we got into the kitchen, his question was answered.

"Oh."

There was my father, sitting at the table with Mom and Pops Racer, and eating cereal. Speed and I stood in the doorway for a full minute at least, trying to take in the sight.

"Suddenly I don't want breakfast," I whispered. I grabbed Speed by the collar and murmured, "Come on, let's go." I was hoping to get back in my room and pretend to sleep until Dad had to go back to work.

But, of course, I'm not that lucky.

"Trixie, you're up," said Mrs. Racer. "Look who came to visit you." I turned around, still directing Speed by the collar, and forcedly proclaimed, "Hi."

My father started over to me with an utterance of, "Patricia …"

"Mr. Shimura," I greeted without even glancing at him.

"Trixie, there's no need to be so cold to your father …" Pops said.

"Father?" I asked. "Yeah, that's the word." I threw my arms out in front of me, "What do you want? Did you finally get around to that To-Do-List?" I pretended with my right hand to be scribbling on my left palm, "'Let's see, um, number one: Tell Patricia her mother's dead! Maybe telling her I'm sorry for slapping her across the face?'"

"He did what?!" asked Speed, eyes wide. He took a step closer to my father, trying best he could to seem intimidating.

"Let me speak to my daughter," Dad demanded, reaching to me.

Speed stood in front of me and put out his arms, offering himself as a human shield. He screamed, "You don't touch her; you don't talk to her; you don't even look at her!"

"Speed!" chastised Mom Racer.

"Mom!" he yelled in defense.

"May I have a moment with my daughter in private?" asked Dad. The Racers looked to me. I drew in a deep breath and nodded stoutly. The family left the kitchen, but Speed made sure to tell me, "If anything happens, you come get me."

"Yeah," I whispered with a nod. The Racers took refuge upstairs and I was left alone with this ghost of my past. Trying solely to make small talk, I asked, "Where are you working from?"

"I can't tell you that."

"What do you want?" I repeated.

"You have become a professional race car driver," he said.

"Yeah," I said. "But don't get the impression that it has anything to do with you."

"Patricia, I trust you know how well Shimura Motors is doing for itself," he continued.

"I'm not coming back," I shook my head.

"We have even bought out Rival Industries," he added.

"Well, good for y—" I started. Then the full extent of what he said hit me. "You bought out Rival?!"

"I trust you're familiar."

"Familiar?!" I shrieked. "He's tried to kill me … twice!" My eyes widened, "And you let him!"

"Get off the track, Patricia," he demanded. "Your boyfriend is already doomed. I told him it would be nice if you survived."

It was him who wanted Speed dead! And he'd kill his own daughter to do it! I gasped at him, "You monster!"

"I did what I had to, Patricia," he said. "Remember how we used to live? You could have had so much power by now. And you could have been the best driver in the world. If you had only just chosen blood over boys."

"I live just fine!" I yelled. "I drive just fine! I don't need power! And I don't need you." I pointed to the doorway, "Get out."

He stood still.

"Get out of my home!" I screamed. He meandered to the door. When I heard the sound of his palm touching it, I turned and swore, "If Speed Racer gets a single scratch, I'm going to take you down."

"As if you could," he growled. And then he left.

I ran up the stairs to Speed's room and said, "He's leaving."

"Good."

"No, not good!" I said. "He bought out Rival and I've got nothing and … I need to follow him!"

He paused for a second, and then shouted, "Gizmo!"

"Now's not the time to shout out random words!"

"No, he said. He led me to the living room and hopped inside the parked Mach 5. Why the car was parked in the living room when they had a perfectly functioning garage was beyond me.

Speed pressed the G button. A little metal bird emerged and floated in the air. It was a 'homing bird,' a device that could transmit U-CAP footage from anywhere. Speed brought a remote control out of seemingly nowhere and directed the bird to fly above my head. He pointed at it, "Gizmo!"

"You named the homing bird?!" I asked.

"Why not?" he asked. "Just open the front door." I jogged over to it and did as he said. He pushed a button on the remote control and Gizmo flew outside.

"I'll have Gizmo follow your dad," Speed explained. "And when we find out where he's been hiding, we'll call the CIB and have them investigate."

"Do you really think that'll work?"

"Rival's stocks' been plummeting since we've been whooping Cannonball and Kellie every chance we get," he stated. "Wouldn't buying them out now seem a bit suspicious? Gizmo's worth a try, isn't he?" I threw my arms around his neck, "Oh, Speed, you're a genius!!"

"Can you tell that to Waterstratt?!"