Nancy

Illegal Racing: What a Thrill.

Ever since I turned seventeen, I've been dedicating my Saturday nights to attending the races organized by a group of people. It wasn't the most appropriate place to be, given the presence of drugs, excessive alcohol, and even some gangsters, but I suppose danger always held a certain allure for me. Besides, I had formed close friendships there over the past five years, and those friends had become inseparable companions.

If someone were to ask me where this fascination for illegal racing originated, I wouldn't have a precise answer. I couldn't quite fathom the reason, though I always attributed it to the rush of adrenaline and euphoria. As I mentioned, I was introduced to racing by my best friend, Kyle, who brought me along for the first time. I had such a blast that night that I kept coming back, a tradition that continued to this day. Of course, only my friends and a few acquaintances were privy to this secret; my family remained blissfully unaware of what their beloved daughter, a diligent student at the University of Sydney, Australia, was up to in her leisure hours. My parents would be utterly shocked if they ever discovered the truth, and they might even disinherit me or cut off my credit cards as punishment. They loved me, but revealing my illicit activities could have severe consequences.

The races were consistently organized by the same group of people, occasionally featuring new participants who sought to earn or lose money depending on whether they crossed the finish line first. However, I never had any interest in striking up conversations with these individuals, let alone introducing myself. I also refrained from engaging in conversations more than necessary, not out of shyness or disinterest, but rather because I preferred not to reveal more about myself than I chose to disclose.

Throughout the five years, I frequented this scene, only five people were acquainted with my full name. The rest remained oblivious to the fact that I came from a wealthy background. If I were to reveal my identity, I would undoubtedly face questions about my potential connection to the Steeles companies, one of the most renowned and multimillion-dollar enterprises in all of Australia. Such inquiries didn't sit well with me, as they could easily lead to classist assumptions like, "What is a high-class girl doing in a place like this?" – inquiries I had no interest in addressing. Moreover, considering the risky environment and the presence of dangerous individuals, I wouldn't be surprised if someone attempted to abduct me for ransom.

"Are you ready?" I asked Kyle, who was gazing at me with a confident smile.

"Of course I am, I haven't lost a single race since I started. I know I'll win this one too," my best friend responded with enthusiasm.

If there was one thing that defined Kyle, it was his unwavering self-assurance. I held high expectations for his victory, and it was more than hope; it was a certainty. I had witnessed him compete on numerous occasions, triumphing over his opponents each time. His dominance on the track was undisputed. Many competitors were wary of him and refrained from betting against him, fully aware that they would likely lose.

"Who's the daring soul racing against you tonight?" I inquired, thrilled for Kyle as winning this race would significantly boost his earnings.

To be candid, Kyle had no real need to save or worry about money. He was also a millionaire, with his parents holding shares in my family's company. However, Kyle had a natural affinity for danger and adrenaline, far more than I did. He relished taking risks in these races, unlike me. While I shared his determined spirit, I would be petrified if I were to sit behind the wheel for such a race. Even under the influence, I wouldn't be able to muster the courage. It wasn't that I lacked skill in driving; rather, I didn't possess the qualities necessary to be an underground racer.

At that moment, I felt content being a spectator.

"I know the guy's name is Jake. I've seen him around a couple of times, though not frequently. Rumor has it he's a skilled racer, having participated in races elsewhere. I've also heard he's a troublemaker."

That revelation sent a shiver down my spine. I wished only for the safety of my best friend.

"Well, please be cautious out there. I don't want anything to happen to you."

"Don't worry, beautiful, I can handle him," he assured me.

"Yes, but you don't know him."

"Relax, alright?" He shrugged off his jacket and focused his gaze on the starting line. "See that guy over there, the one about to get into the car?" Jake pointed, signaling for me to observe as well.

I spotted a tall young man, easily around 1.90 meters in height, with striking black hair. He was dressed entirely in black – jeans, a T-shirt, sneakers, and a jacket. A somewhat vexed expression adorned his face, yet even from a distance, I could tell his eyes held a certain allure, despite not being able to discern their color. He climbed into the car.

"He seems pretty angry."

"He's probably nervous. He knows I'll beat him," Kyle remarked, his self-assurance unwavering.

"Alright, it's time," I alerted Kyle. "Best of luck!" We exchanged a brief hug.

I focused my attention on Kyle as he confidently made his way to his car. Once he was settled in, and the familiar pink-haired girl stood amidst the vehicles, flag in hand, I knew the race was about to commence. I could sense the energy in the air, the eager anticipation as the engines roared to life. When the horn blared and the girl raised and then dropped the flag, both cars surged forward, driven by enthusiasm, adrenaline, and an insatiable hunger for victory. From my vantage point, I watched as my friend quickly surged ahead.

A proud smile spread across my face.

That was my friend.