Four victims were enough.
Corky "Thunderbird" Delaney had to be stopped. And I was going to do it.
Zack and I spent the next few days training for Friday night. After the news of the crash, we began to practice more consistently, planning the routes we would use each day at lunchtime with the help of our friends. Mike and Andy joined our practice almost every day and mostly kept quiet during our drive.
Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday afternoons were used to drive fast through Vernon and memorize all the roads in the city we encountered. Vernon was a complicated beast, with vast and long stretches, small sharp curves that sometimes appeared out of nowhere, and even dead ends.
Zack and I used the internet to explore the rest of the streets and alleyways that couldn't be explored to become more aware of our surroundings, hoping to put us over Corky's skills.
Most of the victims of Delaney had been people who didn't know their way through Vernon, and thus, their lack of knowledge of the landscape was what put them in danger. On the other hand, Corky had all night to drive around the city and learn how things worked.
I just hoped we could still one-up him.
That Friday at lunch, after planning the route for that day, my friends and I hugged, saying how much we cared for each other and how much good luck they wished me.
Lola even gave me a little amulet to use while I drove, a little rabbit foot hanging from a wooden carving of a rabbit's head. She said she had picked it because it symbolized good luck and also because the rabbit was an animal of speed.
I smiled, fighting back the tears.
"Thank you, guys," I said, placing the rabbit foot in my sweater's pocket and patting it. "I will use it for sure."
I could see other girls in the school staring at us weirdly, probably wondering why we looked like it was the last time we would see each other. The truth was that it certainly could be the last time.
At Grandma's, I also tried to say goodbye to her, but in a more subtle way, while at the same time enjoying her presence.
"You know I love you, Grandma, right?" I told her, smiling.
"Well, I hope so," Grandma said, laughing. "It would be weird if you didn't."
"It would indeed be weird," I said, nodding and eating a piece of pie she had made.
After I arrived from practice that afternoon, I looked at myself in my bedroom mirror and sighed, anxious and slightly terrified. I knew it had to be done, but it still felt like a huge risk.
I walked to the bathroom and then proceeded to shower to prepare myself for that night. The day hadn't been hot, but I wanted to relax, and the warm water soothed my nerves and muscles. After my shower, I change into a comfortable set of jeans and a shirt.
Mom arrived when I was brushing and drying my hair, and she asked me why I had showered. I lied and told her that I had gotten pooped on by a pigeon on my way home, and I had to clean myself. Mom laughed softly and asked me if I wanted something to eat before she napped.
"No, thank you, I'm fine," I said. "After that experience, I kinda don't want to see food right now."
"Okay, sweetie." She said, still laughing, and closed my door.
I smiled at her until she closed the door, then my face returned to an expression of utter anxiety. After my hair was dry, I parted my hair into braids and looked at myself again. I took a few deep, slow breaths, trying to keep as calm as possible as I knew my parents still had about an hour or two before they left the house and went to the parent-teacher conference that night.
To add to my anxiety, all of a sudden, I heard the phone ring on the side table and quickly picked it up as I saw it was Zack calling.
"We have a problem," Zack said as I picked up. I closed my eyes, cursing under my breath.
"What?" I asked him, half scared and half angry.
"Andy's dad took Mike's car today after practice," Zack said. "He got a call from school this morning, asking if Mike was feeling better. Apparently, he pretended to have the flu and missed classes this week."
"Jesus, and in this climate. Why?" I asked Zack.
"Mike is like that. Kinda lazy when it comes to school," Zack said. "He probably took advantage of the situation."
"Goddammit, you dumbass!" I cursed Mike in my head. "Why did you have to do that? You screwed with our plan!"
"Now, what are we going to do?" I asked, panic settling in my voice. "We need his car."
"We can use my father's car," Zack said. "He usually naps at that hour. If I sneak through the side gate, he won't notice."
I thought about it for a minute.
We had no time left. This was it. We had to execute the plan that night, or Corky might slip through our fingers. But Mr. Vinton's car was so... blah. Not only was the Dodge more comfortable to drive, but the Nissan's model was not meant for speed, which could be lethal on the road.
What if I wanted to do a quick turn, and the car was not made for such turns? Could that cause an abrupt stop or rollover? Those were things we had to consider.
But we didn't know how much time Mike would be grounded because of his insensitive idea. He might never get his car back. So I told Zack that I would think of another car, but in the meantime, he had to ensure his father would be napping at that time in case we needed to use it. Zack agreed and then asked me how I was feeling.
"Terrible, I feel like I'm going to die, and I'm not even out of my house yet," I said, laughing bitterly.
"I feel so pumped," said Zack, and I could feel the smile forming through the phone. "I'm just ready for this; I don't know why."
He was such a brave little toaster.
"Thirst of revenge, perhaps?" I asked jokingly, then laughed. "Yeah, it's probably the adrenaline."
"Yeah, I think that's it," he told me. "I just can't wait to end this. Or at least try."
I swallowed hard, thinking about the chances of victory and failure. Let's just say that the chances were not in our favor.
"We will try," I told him, still trying to keep my cool even in the face of imminent danger. "I'll ensure that even if we fail, we will come out of this alive."
"I trust you, Tammy," Zack said, and my heart swelled. It was so nice to hear. It made me feel both secure in my feelings and terrified of disappointing him.
"I've seen you drive. You are like Ryan Gosling in that movie. Like a real hero, you know?"
I chuckled, embarrassed, thanking God he couldn't see my cheeks reddening.
"Don't be silly," I told him, looking down. "I'm just a girl."
"You are more than just a girl," Zack said. "And I believe we can do it. We can stop this kid."
I smiled at his positive thinking and told him to keep thinking like that. We needed as much positivity as we could. I then told him I would call close to eight to inform him of our final strategy. He agreed, and I finally cut the call.
The minute I placed my cell phone on the side table, I felt a million alarms ringing inside my head. I had to find a new car, and only one besides the Nissan seemed like a possible alternative.
My father's Mustang. His baby.
But I had to make sure that Dad would choose the pickup for the parent-teacher conference. And there was only one way to force him.
"So what are we going to get tonight?" Dad asked Mom and me as he sat on the bed, putting on his fancy socks.
My mother stopped putting on her makeup and turned to him. "I don't know, pizza perhaps? It better not be too heavy, as we will be having cake and brownies at the conference."
"Yeah, I know," Dad said, taking his bar of deodorant and putting it on his hairy pits.
"I was thinking maybe some burgers and fries?"
"What about Chinese Food? There's a Chinese restaurant close to the school," I suddenly said, leaning on the door frame.
As they both turned to me, Mom didn't look too convinced, but Dad was already imagining eating all that meat, chicken, and fried rice. Chinese food was one of my father's favorite foods, only defeated by Mexican food.
"Wouldn't be too heavy for tonight?" Mother asked.
"We can eat a little and save the rest for tomorrow. You won't need to cook," I told Mom, and she leaned her head to the side, thinking about it. Mom loved not having to cook for the day, just warm up delicious leftovers. She liked being a homemaker, but after a week of hard work, sometimes she just wanted to chill.
"That would be nice," she said, turning to Dad, and he nodded happily.
I had set the bait and hooked the prey. Now, it was time for the kill.
"So you'll have to take the pickup truck then, won't you, Dad?" I asked my father, and he frowned, confused. I looked at him with a gaze that asked, "How could you not remember?"
Then I told him that the last time we had bought Chinese food, the guy had forgotten to pack it well, and the grease and juices from the boxes leaked all over the seats and the floor.
"Oh yeah," he said, a bit disappointed.
"I'm not saying not to get Chinese; just use the pickup in case it drips. You don't want your precious baby to get greasy, do you?" I asked Dad, and he shook his head.
"Hell no!" he exclaimed, "I just cleaned it on Sunday."
"I do want some fried rice and Chop Suey," Mom said, putting on some mascara.
"Great! Get me some, too, okay? And some beef and broccoli, please," I said, walking away from the door into my room.
As I sat on the edge of my bed, I smiled as I had accomplished my little plan. The idea was that after Zack's arrival, we would take the old Mustang out of the garage and into the city. I had less experience with my father's car than with Mr. Vinton's sedan, but unlike that car, the Mustang was built for speed. Also, I had seen Mom drive for years, so it was not like I hadn't noticed how the car worked or what the symbols and lights meant.
So, that night, my parents walked out of the house. I hugged them both tightly to say goodbye, just in case. Mom laughed and asked me what was going on.
"Oh, nothing. I'm just worried about things at school," I said. "What if this flu becomes really bad, you know?"
The truth is that I was indeed a bit afraid about the whole school shutdown thing, but my fear of racing against the Thunderbird kid outweighed the fear of the disease.
Dad patted me on the shoulder.
"It's going to be okay," Dad said, patting me on the back. "I bet things will return to normal soon enough. People are just scared, that's all."
Then he asked if I wanted wontons, and I smiled, agreeing.
After waving goodbye and getting into the truck, a few minutes later, they left.
Before phoning Zack, I finished preparing myself by putting on a warm, comfortable sweatshirt and taking the driving gloves out of my side table drawer. I walked to the bathroom and washed my hands, drying them well. Then I returned to my room and placed some baby powder on my hands and gloves to keep them dry.
Then I made the call.
Zack arrived on his bike ten minutes later. I walked to the gate and let him in, telling him to put the bike on the side of the house, close to the garage. He was wearing a red tracksuit, which looked both cool and cozy.
"You look great!" I told him, and he looked at his clothes and thanked me.
He then told me he had chosen it because it was his most comfortable outfit. It seemed both of us thought wearing clothes that felt good for the race was important. He then added, chuckling, that they were also his cheapest clothes in case he pissed himself.
"Well, maybe we should go to the bathroom before we go," I told him, chuckling.
After everything was done, I put on the house alarm, and we exited through the back patio door towards the garage.
The little light next to the door turned on and illuminated our dark path to the garage. Using a key Dad kept on the key rack, I opened the garage door, which lifted like a theater curtain, revealing the shape of the spectacular car my father had cared for all these decades.
I swallowed hard at its presence and looked at Zack, who stared back at me, grinning excitedly. His grin gave me strength, and I smiled slightly in return.
"Stop worrying so much and focus," I told myself.
I used the keys my Dad kept in the drawer next to the bed and opened the door to the driver's seat. The black leather interior and the smell of pine greeted me. I sat in the driver's seat and sighed anxiously while putting the little rabbit's foot inside the glove compartment.
I then opened the side door for Zack, who entered and looked astounded at my father's work.
"This is such a cool car!" He exclaimed, turning around.
"Yeah, enjoy it," I told him. "It might be its last day for all we know. Might be ours too."
Zack stared at me for a moment, a tense grin on his face, then looked at his watch and established eight-fifteen as the hour of our exit.
After driving the Mustang out of the garage, I closed the door and let Zack out so he would open the gate.
Afterward, we were gone.