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this is another short short story. I had to write a story on motion for science, and i came up with this drama. Written in about 20 minutes.
They purchased it from the lot no more than 10 minutes. Now, when if
you were to see what they bought, you would probably call it a rusted
piece of junk. But they called it a hobby. And it was a hobby they have
been working three summers for to start. It was slightly weird to see
two friends combine their money together to buy something. After all,
it was the ninety's. Usually whenever a 16 year old was given money, it
would burn straight through their jeans. But Tom and Drake were
different, they were best friends.
They had finally made it to the
lot's gate. "You push," Drake said, "and I'll steer." He began to run
to the front, but Tom grabbed his shirt and said, "Hold on! You push."
Drake looked at him, "Why should I do it?" "You are the strongest one
here," Tom said. Drake replied, "Well, you would be too, if you wern't
always reading." "Just push," Tom said. "Ok, fine," Drake said, "But
seriously dude, you need to start working out." Tom shoved him, "Shut
up." Drake laughed as Tom made his way to the wheel. Tom opened the
door, rust dropped off in a cascade of orange. Yeah, it was a beauty.
Drake pushed. They only had 5 more miles until they were home.
From where they were, they were only five minutes to home. All that
stood between them and rest, was a steep hill. Tom opened the passenger
door and said, "Drake, get in." Drake gave the Pinto one finally push
and ran to the door. He hopped in, and slammed the door shut, leaving a
mark of orange. The Pinto eased its way towards the hill, and it slowly
moved down. Tom gripped the wheel and held on.
It sped down the hill at what must have been at least 50 miles an hour.
Both of them while smiling as it roared down the hill. Drake, who
hadn't been able to fasten his seatbelt, fell foward and hit his head
on the dash. He was only able to yell out a small, "Ouch!" Tom was
rolling down the window. He put his head out, his eyes were tearing
from the wind. Houses were rolling by the window. Tom could see his
house now. He stepped on the brakes. Nothing happened.
He slammed on the brakes. His house was 300 feet away. Nothing happened
still. Tom started to panic. Why wasn't it stopping? He made one last
step on the brake. He was sure it would't work. He gripped the wheel
with anxiety, closed his eyes, and....
"Hey, might want to open your eyes." Tom opened his eyes and seen Drake
standing outside the car. He was by his house. Drake knocked on the
windshield, "Come on, we still got to push this thing up to the
driveway." Tom shook his head and got out of the car, and began to push.
They spent about 3 hours everyday working on that rusted Ford
Pinto. It had been 2 months since they bought it, and that was enough
time to at least get things started. The Pinto had some improvements.
There was no longer as much rust as there used to be. If Tom had to
guess, it was now only 65% rust. And the brake lines had, thank God,
been replaced with newer ones. (The pervious ones were close to being
out of brake fluid, and were almost cut straight through, no thanks to
the salesman.)
Tom was currently changing the oil, while Drake was knocking the dents
out. Suddenly, Drake screamed in pain. It was very loud and sounded
like he just got kicked by a steel toed boot. Drake hit his head
several times, then, he stopped. Tom got up next to him and said, "What
the hell was that?" Drake replied, "It's been happening for a couple
months now." Tom remembered when Drake hit his head. He thought about
asking about it, but he didnt think it mattered. It was only a small
hit.
They went back to working on the Pinto. It was like the whole scream
never happened. It was another 3 hours before Drake left to go home. As
Tom washed his hands, he couldn't help but think about Drake and his
head problem. He feared something was wrong.
3 weeks later, they were back in school. The smell of the sweet
summer grass was aloft, and the sounds of Nirvana flowed through the
ears of Tom as he walked towards the school's doors. His first class,
auto-shop, a class he had been taking the entire summer, only in his
garage. About the car, it was beginning to look better. He was ready to
give it a new paint job. And as for the rust, well, it's permanent in
some places, particularly the hood. The weird thing was, Drake hadn't
worked on it since that one day.
He turned the corner as Kurt Cobain started his "In Bloom" solo. He was
almost to his locker now. He found it. He entered his combo and got
everything he needed. He closed the door, and was about to walk away
when he seen a note. He picked it off and read, "Meet me outside the
gym after 3rd period," signed, Drake. The bell rang. Not a good way to
start school, being tardy. He hurried off to class.
Auto-shop was ok, because all they did was read from the book, but that
wasn't the important thing. Outside the gym. 3rd period. He only had to
get through English then he could talk to Drake. And English did go by
fast. Easy. He was rushing to get to the gym. He wondered what was so
important that Drake just couldnt meet him by his locker. He finally
made it to the gym. He looked, but he couldn't find Drake. He looked by
the doors, no Drake. He looked in the locker room. He didnt see anyone,
but then, he heard crying. He looked deeper inside and seen Drake.
Tom walked up to him and sat next to him, "What's wrong?" Something had
to be wrong. Drake never cried. Drake looked up and spoke through his
tears, "Tom, I..I found out what was causing my headaches." He
continued to cry. Oh God, Tom thought. "What is it?" Tom asked, he was
starting to worry. Drake tried to clear his throat, but couldn't, but
Tom could clearly understand him when he said, "I have a brain tumor."
No, no, no!, Tom screamed inside his head. He was speechless. What
could he say to a friend who just told him he had a brain tumor? But
finally, he said, "Drake, you're going to be fine. It'll be ok." Drake
cried louder and put his arms around Tom. He mumbled some things, but
Tom couldn't make them out. Tom held Drake. All he could say was,
"You're going to be fine. You're going to be fine." And as the bell
rang, a single tear dropped from Tom's eye.
After that fateful moment in the locker room, Tom and Drake were still
working on the car. Drake had been to many doctors since then, all told
him the same thing, malignant, it's spreading to the spine, one month.
But that didn't keep them from working on the Pinto. They still hadn't
thought of a name for it. It was almost done. The paint job was done.
The Pinto was now red with black stripes. It was a great sight and a
great improvement from what it used to be. But the hood still had rust.
That wouldn't make a difference.
Drake couldn't do much now. He was dying, everyone knew it. He seen
less and less of Drake at school, and less of Drake at his house. He
did try to work on the car whenever he could, but due to doctor's
orders, he had to stay home, but Drake would just sneak out. That
resulted in the cops being called in, and they would always find him at
Tom's house, with a wrench in his hands and oil stains on his shirt.
Then, one day, when Tom was putting gas in the car, he heard the news.
Drake died that morning. His mom was the one to tell him, she tried to
hug him, but he brushed her off and told her to leave him alone. She
understood and left. So it was Tom, alone in the garage. He didn't cry.
Suddenly, he found himself reaching for a spray can. He started
spraying onto the hood. Then, he got in the car, and drove away.
He was on top of the hood. He overlooked all the houses on the hood. He
fastened his seat belt, and gripped the wheel. He pushed the pedel
softly, and it edged toward the hill. It went down, going at least 50
miles an hour as Tom let off the gas. He rolled down the window, his
eyes tearing, but it wasn't from the wind. He rememberd when Drake was
seating next to him, laughing as they sped down the hill. Tom smiled as
the houses rolled by the Pinto, or he should call it by its name. If
you were to see what they bought, what they worked on, what they helped
each other on, you would see, painted on top of the rust of the hood,
in black spray paint, "Drake"
Copyright 2008 aj
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