DREXEL GENESIS

The green flag is held steady in the air, ready to give the go.

I look out the window to see the racer seated in his car next to mine. He seems to be giving himself a pep talk. As if feeling my taunting gaze, he swirls his head towards me. A smirk creeps onto my face involuntarily as I playfully taunt him with a cheeky wink. I let out a snicker as his eyes widen in surprise before contorting into a look of disgust.

Ah... It feels so good to mess up with them a little before a race.

The onlookers and spectators on both sides of the old bridge flare up with shouts and cheers as they wait in anticipation. The reviving engines are thunderous enough to vibrate the bridge and my body. My hands drum the steering wheel rhythmically in anticipation, my eyes now fixed on the flag.

The flag goes down.

And off we go.

A surge of adrenaline courses through my veins, electrifying my senses as the boisterous cheers of the spectators filter into my ears through my open windows. The wild chants and frenzied clapping energized me, fueling my excitement. They fade away into the background fast, as I fly through the streets and onto the main road. Well, why not add some music to keep the mood going even crazier? I turn on the radio and the sounds of heavy metal and bass fill the car. Now that's more like it. It felt as if I was living out one of those heart-racing scenes straight out of a movie, where the characters are hotly chased by the cops; you add a little music and you feel like you are racing against the speed of lightning.

It was past midnight, so there were barely any vehicles up here, and that worked to our advantage to race freely without any obstacles. As I speed up, I look in the side mirror to see a grey Subaru catching up fast to my car.

Kash.

My eyebrows raise as I notice his car drawing closer to the rear bumper of my Ford Mustang. Was he trying to crash into my car? He was such a dim bulb; he always tried to get his way even if it meant hitting innocent pedestrians crossing the street (Well, for his luck, he hadn't done that...yet).

My eyes train on the road ahead and my car approaches the bend of the 'Avenue Street'. My right foot comes off the gas pedal and I quickly shift gears. I suck in a breath as I make a sharp right to the street.

I felt a deep connection with my car as if we were in perfect sync. Every control, every button and pedal responded instinctively to my slightest movements. When racing, my car became integrated into my being, our actions flowing together in perfect harmony.

For me, this was the beauty of racing.

I am reminded of one quote that my Uncle used to tell me; You are an artist, the track is your canvas, the car is your paintbrush, and the tire is your paint.

I was too buried in my memories that I narrowly missed Kash's car which had somehow come parallelly with mine. Keep your head in the game, Drexel.

I keep my eyes on the bend ahead of me. My turn was so sudden that Kash, who doesn't see it coming, nearly collides his car with the local café building. I chuckle as I imagine his annoyed and frustrated face.

Next, I am quick to enter the narrow road between the forests.

This is my favourite part of the midnight racing course.

I could feel the wind pelting my face and I inhale the scent of the Pine tree forests surrounding me. I basked in the divine sensation of freedom as if I were soaring through the crisp, mountainous air of the lush forests. One of the reasons I love racing this course at night is mainly because this road is quite tranquil and I get to enjoy the fragrance and fresh scent of the forests. It also helps that no race cars ever catch up with me very easily, so I can enjoy even the littlest things during my ride. I smile as the town lights once again come into view after some minutes.

I close my windows when my hair starts blowing irritatingly into my eyes and increase my speed by 10 mph when I see Kash and the others behind me, their bright headlights almost fogging up the road ahead of me.

My heart pumps wildly as the old bridge comes into view. The number of spectators seemed to have increased during those twenty minutes.

I look in the front mirror and see Kash's car heading up dangerously close to mine. My eyes quickly scan the road in front of me, and I see a big rusty trash can on the side of the road. Bingo.

"Sorry, bud. But you have got to bear some damage with me here," I mumble as I shift gears quickly and knock the trash can down. I hiss when I felt the scratchy noise it delivered as the dumpster crashed into the front of my car. The dumpster falls onto the road with a crash. It was too rusty and tarnished that it breaks down into pieces right as Kash drives from behind to a screeching stop. He only blasts his horn like a madman as if the road would miraculously clear up upon hearing his impatient noises.

I pat the dashboard. "You did good, bud. I'll make Archer give you a rewarding paint job and you'll be shiny as new."

"Don't tell me that you are talking to your car again, Drex," I hear Archer's droll voice float through the speaker of my phone.

"Speak of the devil and he shall appear," I grin to myself as I steer. "I thought you hung up. You were silent for so long."

"Well, I'm here for instances like this; to remind you that cars don't speak so you need to get back into reality and finish this race!"

And without delay, I race through the finish line, finishing in first place. I cheer to myself with a content exhale. My heart thumps so fiercely in my chest that I half-expected it to burst through my ribcage with sheer excitement. I step out of my car to the cheers of the spectators just as I hear the other racers finish off. "Aw, dammit," I cry out in frustration as I see a sad rusty brown spot scratched into the rear of my blue metallic-coloured car.

But the giddiness of my victory still overruns that frustration and I see Archer running toward me with a bottle of water. "Hey Drex," he grins, patting my back as a way of congratulating me, "kicked their asses as always! Did you see Kash's face right now? Priceless!"

My best friend, Archer, just like me, lives to annoy and embarrass the hell out of our rival, Kash Grater. Archer is easy-going and fun to be with, but he is extremely loyal to those whom he cares for, ready to kick anyone's gears back to their place.

I take the wet cloth Archer tosses at me and attempt to wipe the sweat out of my face. I may have raced a car, but it feels as if I was the car that had raced through the streets.

"Many people were betting for you," he wiggles his eyebrows. "Kash's old man looks as if he had lemons for dinner".

Kash's father, John Grater, as if he had heard us, turns our way and presents us with a sour scowl. He is the leader of his group; The Ferals. The Ferals were famous for many things. They race the streets when they want to, and they beat people up when they want to, but they are mainly considered loan sharks, or legally; lenders and debt collectors. I wouldn't be surprised if they were an underworld gang. The Grater family is rich. Street racing is just another fun sport for them to make more money.

We got bad blood between us especially since Kash hasn't had the chance to beat me in a race. Kash or ANY of The Ferals for that matter.

To make it worse, we also attend the same school. You could say Kash and his gang were the stereotypical jocks of the school. They can be popular and walk through the school as if they own it, but we've made it clear that we rule the roads out here. Racing is our thing. They've been trying and trying to beat some of us all their lives, but they aren't a match for us. They and their cheating selves can go suck it up.

John Grater gives us the stink eye and he resumes lecturing his son whose face is blushing red with embarrassment. Prick.

We share a laugh and my hand reaches to graze the necklace I was wearing. But I only come into contact with my skin.

The necklace was gone.

"Hey- my necklace...it's not here," I tell Archer, my hands frantically feeling my neck and pockets.

"Maybe it's dropped somewhere?" Archer suggests, his phone flashing its flashlight onto the ground in an attempt to help me find it.

But it was to no avail, the necklace was missing.

I heave a sigh and rub my hand through my dark brown hair, "I didn't even realize that it was missing. Where do I find it now?"

"Maybe it's time to let go of it now, Drexel," I hear Archer's grave voice say even through the loud and noisy background.

"Wh-why would you say that?"

"It must be a sign that you should let go, Drexel," he repeats more firmly this time. "You have been holding on to it for a long time...I'm sorry to say this but-"

"Hey Drexel, it was nothing new, but that was quite the race you had back there," comes in a new voice effectively cutting Archer off. Terry was a man hitting his 50s; bald head, greying hair, a golden tooth and tattoos...well, you get the idea. Nevertheless, he was a cool dude who organised most of the street races here on The Abandoned Bridge of the town.

He comes in between us and rummages through his pockets and produces a brown envelope. "You've got the full sum there. I'll text you the details of your next race," Terry says. I take the envelope and feel the heat of the money in my hands making my lips turn slightly upwards making me momentarily forget about the necklace.

"Thanks, Terry."

"No prob kid, you earned it. The Down South racers are racing tomorrow. Come watch them if you like. But now, we've got another race incoming. Gotta see to it." Terry nods at Archer and runs off to an area where huge trucks were unloading multiple bikes.

"Are you racing tonight? I thought you said that you weren't in the mood?" I ask Archer.

Archer's eyes immediately darkened indicating that he had slipped into a black mood. "Well, I feel like kicking off some heat tonight. Wait for me after this."

"Is it your father again?" I ask quietly. Archer says nothing for a while but his frown deepens. "You know you can come by my place any time right?" I tell him.

"Thanks, bro. But not tonight. I have to win this. I'll see you later, Drex," Archer says with a shake of his head as if he could clear his thoughts back to his cheery self.

"Good luck!" I yell after his retreating form. He turns back and grins at me before getting into his car. I can't help but notice his headlights flickering off and on. I sigh. I've got to fix that today. And I should see if my necklace has fallen somewhere in my car.

My eyes flicker through the spectators to find the familiar faces of my other friends. Zeke and Jed wave at me to catch my attention. "Archer's racing now," I proclaim as I stand next to them.

"I thought he said he won't be racing tonight?" Zeke asks. I rub a nervous hand through my dark hair. I clear my throat and say somewhat cockily, "I think he got the spirit after seeing me win."

Zeke gives full-blown laughter while Jed chuckles. Zeke slumps his arm around my shoulder, brings me closer to him and rubs my head. "Of course, he got the spirit after seeing The Drexel race. I swear I saw some bras thrown at you," he laughs. I scrunch my face up at that with a gag. I was too immersed in my victory to notice them anyway.

As the three of us await the end of his race, I can't help but notice the angry scowls aimed in my direction by the Ferals, a clear indication of their displeasure at having lost. As much as I wanted to gloat or taunt them childishly by sticking my tongue out, I resisted the urge, not wanting to stir up any trouble or engage in a physical fight of any sort.

I could fight anyone by racing against them instead.

That is what happens when you race with someone who breathes and lives in the world of racing.

Welcome to my world.

And he is introduced! I'm looking forward to this😁

Please note that the point of view will be changed from time to time, be on the lookout for their names under the title of every chapter!

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'You are an artist, the track is your canvas, the car is your paintbrush, and the tire is your paint.' I found this statement somewhere on the internet and it immediately drew my attention! Credit goes to the owner who came up with this flawless statement!