About Luigi -

Eventually, they found out from Eva that she had visited Marlee at that nursing home. Eva showed her all the papers that Drew and the girls left with her, and the explanation that went with them. Marlee listened to her and, at the end of Eva's long explanation, she asked if they could visit Luigi at the cemetery in Queens. Eva hired a driver and car, and they went to the cemetery the following day.

-----

Marlee kneeled on Luigi's grave, and picked away the dirt and leaves from his gravestone. Eva stayed by her sister and waited for her to finish her visit.

After spending the entire afternoon there, they eventually went back to the nursing home.

Just before getting into the car that Eva had hired, Marlee turned towards Luigi's grave.

"Goodbye, Louie," she said quietly. "I love you."

Eva eventually got Marlee settled back in her bed and, as she turned to leave, Marlee called her back. Her frail old sister reached up and squeezed her in a hug.

"Thank you, Evvie," Marlee whispered. "I love you."

The following day, Eva was informed by the nursing home's staff that she had quietly passed away in the night.

It was true after all - Marlee just needed closure, and Eva thanked Drew and her friends for helping her achieve that.

Eva also wasn't in dire straits anymore and decided not to sell the house. Drew laughed, saying that she understood. Still, Eva didn't want to leave Drew and her dad in the lurch, so she told her about a property she had heard about - it was in St. George, Staten Island, just beside the water. It was one of the homes that got devastated in the hurricane, so it was going cheap.

The house was just a tiny affair - just one bath and two rooms, though it did have a long garage big enough for two cars to fit nose-to-nose. It had been completely rebuilt so there were no issues with the structure. Eva said this might just be what they were looking for. Drew promised to look into it.

Eva also said that she was looking into starting new career as a writer. Some of her friends heard that there was an opening in the local paper for a feature writer, and she was thinking of trying out for it. She might be too old to do that anymore, or might not have the skills necessary, but decided to try anyway. With Margot gone, she wasn't scared to try anymore.

She also invited Drew to the funeral. Only a few people would be going, since they had lost touch with so many of their friends, but she said Drew and her friends were welcome to come by.

Drew thanked her and phoned Callie and Iola right away using her cell phone's conference call feature, to tell them the news. She was sure they'd want to go to the funeral, too.

As she finished her conference call with Callie and Iola two hours later (*sigh* two hours...), Callie asked if they had another case to work on.

"We'll see," Drew laughed.

So that was the end of the Case of the Old Clock.

About Aunt Arlene -

Drew tried to be gentle about it as she didn't know how her suggestion would be taken. But she did her best.

She visited the Shaws the weekend following the night they broke into the Southern Cross office, and laid out her suggestion: If Callie and Aunt Arlene were open to the idea, she and her Dad were wondering if Aunt Arlene would be willing to moonlight as their part-time housekeeper. Drew meant no insult. She knew Aunt Arlene was a professional, and that it might be beneath her to work as their housekeeper. They just thought it as something to tide them over while Aunt Arlene fixed her situation at the hospital, and something for her to do during her off hours. Plus, it was nothing big - just visit the house twice a week, do some dusting and cleaning and that's it. No cooking or washing or whatever. In fact, it wasn't really housekeeping. It was just helping them out.

"Thank God, no cooking!" Callie laughed. "Just imagine the horror if Aunt Arlene cooked!"

Plus, they didn't need to report this so that meant that it was tax-free. It was sort of like they were asking a favor instead of offering a job.

"Is that legal?" Aunt Arlene asked.

"Dad says it's a gray area."

They couldn't offer any kind of benefits, of course, and the amount wasn't that big - just a thousand a month. Drew apologized again. It was just that they needed the help.

Aunt Arlene said sure on the spot. A thousand for eight half-days a month of extremely light work - it was a no-brainer.

So starting the following week, Aunt Arlene started coming over to their place every Tuesday and Wednesday afternoon (Aunt Arlene also threw in Saturday afternoons), and did some light cleaning around the house. She even brought over her own broom, dustpan and other cleaning stuff, and Drew made sure her dad didn't touch them (Drew knew how particular Aunt Arlene was about her cleaning stuff).

Callie would often come over during those same days, and she and Drew would hang around the Nance's house, and the two best friends became even closer. Sometimes, Iola would come over as well, and Aunt Arlene would bemoan the mess that the three made, although, secretly, she thought of those days as her most fun days because she got to hang out with her beloved niece and her best friends.

About the "Project" -

As Carson got settled in his job, life went on. He got to know his coworkers, and they got to know him. He didn't have too much spare time to spend on their project nowadays, but they expected that. So, instead of chafing at the slow developments in their so-called investigation into the murder of his brother Dave, his niece Jane, and their old housekeeper Marie, he and Drew took it philosophically. They knew that this would be a long and drawn-out process, and it might take years to unravel things, and get proof that would stick in court. But that was the only way to do it so that they didn't put themselves in danger.

Still, slowly but surely, Carson was able to accumulate more information, and his "secret weapon," Drew, was able to put them together into a coherent picture. Eventually, when the picture was more or less complete, they'd finally make their move and these people, whoever they were, would be put behind bars. But for now, they would bide their time.

There was a new wrinkle, though. The documents that Iola inadvertently brought home from the offices of the Southern Cross Detective Agency seemed to be relating Southern Cross to the Tate consortium. Whether or not there was any involvement of the agency in the death of Dave, Jane and Marie, she didn't know. All she knew was that the agency was in deep with the Tate consortium.

Drew deduced from the papers that the lady that was making trouble for the Jacobs - Mrs. Margot T. Pelligrew - used a series of dummy corporations in 1999 and bought the agency lock, stock and barrel. She was also responsible for turning it into one of the Tate consortium's go-to detective agencies. That was, of course, just a side benefit. All she wanted at the time was to shut down Eva's investigation into Luigi Falcone's disappearance. The implication here was that Mrs. Pelligrew might have been involved with it. Otherwise, why?

As to why the main office was so decrepit, though Mrs. Pelligrew didn't really need the company, in order for the consortium to make use of it, they needed to maintain its license, name and reputation as a company independent of the consortium. So they had to maintain its old address even though all the old employees were bought out already and the newly-revamped office did their work from the Manhattan office.

Drew wasn't 100% sure of all of her conclusions, of course, but she was at least 90% sure, and that was good enough for her dad. So the papers that Drew and her friends had "retrieved" went into the Nances' secret safe and joined her Uncle Dave's papers. And whether the new information that they got was relevant or not - finding that out would have to be reserved for another time.

About the Cheerleading Team -

On Monday, Drew was called in by Coach Stoeger, along with Sabrina, Tori, Paige, Heather, Marti, Savannah, Alice and Vanessa. As before, it was another secret meeting, and it was scheduled for 5PM at the gym.

Drew didn't tell anyone, not even Callie and Iola, although based on all the winks and meaningful looks she was getting from her best friends, she was fairly sure that they knew about the meeting. The fact that both of them said that they didn't need rides home clinched it.

Drew hung around the library until it closed at five, and then she made her way to the gym.

She was wearing one of her sexier ensembles - a very short crimson mini, the shortest that she could get away with in school (she wore a gaff underneath, of course), a pair of knee-high gogo boots, a sleeveless blouse with ruffled front and high Mandarin collar, and a black silk long-sleeved bolero jacket over it. She also had her new Transformer tablet that she carried around like a notebook, and her little Louis Vuitton purse, its tiny chain draped over her right shoulder.

When she walked into the gym, the JayVees surrounded her and started gabbing a mile a minute. She was hard-pressed to give all of them a hello kiss on the cheek but eventually managed to do so. Coach Stoeger waved everyone to sit down and they all sat on the team bench near the foul line, with everyone trying to sit beside Drew. Sabrina and Marti got to sit beside her - Sabrina by virtue of her being the JayVees' captain and Marti because she was the biggest. The others just settled for sitting on the gymnasium floor in front of Drew.

Coach Stoeger giggled at that. Seems she had no choice - she had to get Drew, otherwise, she might be faced with a revolt.

"The reason I called you all in, girls," Stoeger said, "is because I have some news for you."

The prospective varsity cheerleaders quieted down.

"I'd just like to let you know that all nine of you have made it to the squad! Congratulations!"

It was a pandemonium of screams and self-congratulatory hugs. At one time, Drew was sure that all eight of the Jayvees hugged her simultaneously.

Coach Stoeger explained that she would still conduct tryouts but anyone who made it might just have to settle as backups or alternates. Later on, Stoeger would confide in Drew that the main reason for her announcing the results so early was because she wanted it on record that Sabrina and her girls were safe from any of Janine's machinations.

"But there's one thing I need to know, too," Stoeger said. "I want to know whether or not you have decided on joining the team, Drew."

"Well, it's not as if I had a choice anymore, Coach," Drew said. "If I don't say yes to the team, Callie and Iola will kill me. And if they don't I'm sure Sabrina and the others will."

Coach Stoeger nodded sagely. "Of course," she said, deadpan.

About the Race -

Everyone knew about Drew's race with Phil Cohen scheduled two Sundays after Exam Week. It was so popular, almost the entire junior year had planned to be there. The juniors had dibs, of course, so any other kids who planned to be there would have to settle for the less prime spots. Drew and Phil were both Juniors, after all.

Drew heard this little fact from a couple of freshmen ("Did you hear about that race that everyone keeps on going on about?" she heard the freshman in line ahead of her in the cafeteria say. "I don't understand what the big deal is. Did you hear? There's even reservations for choice spots!" The freshman shrugged in disgust. At that point, he got a flying cinnamon bun in the face thrown by one of his friends.)

Those offhand statements made Drew realize how big of a problem she had. She knew that her Tiger was so much better than Phil's Escalade, and provided she didn't do anything wrong, she was sure to win. But it wasn't enough to just win. She had to make it look good. It was going to be the spectacle of the year, after all.

"Besides," she thought, "I want Phil's fall from grace a big one, heheheh."

Apparently, Callie and Iola were also worried. They had tried to convince her to back down, that she virtually had no chance against Phil and his monster car.

So Drew had no choice but to explain the modifications done to Tiger and convince them. Drew even opened up Tiger's hood to show the girls her new engine and other modifications. As expected, they didn't get even fifty percent of what she was saying (only a motorhead would have understood), but they did get the sense that Tiger was not some ordinary, though cute, car. Drew also showed them the four-point safety belt and the fuel cell in the trunk.

What really convinced them, though, that Drew really had a chance was when Drew showed them her racing helmets. Drew didn't understand why that did it, actually.

Anyway, the two were convinced, and were turned from doubters into active conspirators to bring Phil Cohen down. Iola even had some ideas to put a great spin on the entire race thing and make it an unforgettable spectacle.

So Drew spent the next two weeks getting ready. There was time now since school was already out.

First thing up was a tune-up. She went to Otto's and had them go over her Tiger with a fine-toothed comb.

Tiger passed with flying colors, of course, and after she did, Drew had all her fluids changed, her battery checked, her plugs replaced, her brakes checked and her tires aligned. As a final check, Drew had the welds of the bracings inside the engine compartment inspected and there were no cracks anywhere.

She also had the limiter switch checked and verified if it could be switched off. A fault was found but a simple replacement of a relay now allowed her to change her maximum speed of 120MPH to something that no one knew yet. Based on the rated power and torque of her replacement Mercedes 300HP engine and her new weight, Drew's estimate of her top speed to be well beyond the Mercedes' 155MPH - to somewhere in the area of 200MPH-plus. More than enough to beat the rated speed of an Escalade EXT. Hopefully, Phil hadn't done any big modifications, like a Nitrous injector.

Speaking of which, her little Tiger had no such NO2 supercharger upgrade since she was told it wasn't good for Tiger's engine and, besides, with her new engine, an NO2 injector would have been overkill. Drew felt a bit nervous about the race and explored the idea of putting one in now. But the mechanics said they'd need at least four weeks - both to find a kit, install it and then test it. So the idea of putting in one now was totally academic. Besides, she remembered their agreement to have no new modifications or addiditions.

They did recommend having the tires changed, but Tiger's tires were still new. That, however, did give Drew an idea and she asked if it was possible to have Formula One-type racing tires put on. Otto said that formula tires weren't available to buy. They're made specially for Formula One teams. However, stock car racing tires were commercially available. If she wanted, he could get a couple for her in about two weeks. Drew agreed right away. Otto occasionally bought such tires for a racing track that catered to people who wanted to learn how to race.

There was one good piece of news, though. The roll cage that she had ordered months ago was ready. The removable roll cage bolted onto the same pins, mounts and frame where the hardtop bolted on. It was fairly heavy so, just like mounting the hardtop, mounting the roll cage was at least a two-man job. They also had a modified canvas top ready that would stretch over the roll cage and, though putting up the canvas top still had to be done manually, folding it back was powered now, courtesy of cables and a power-window motor mounted on the back of the rear seat.

Drew had the canvas top and roll cage installed, and promised to come back for the tires on the Saturday before the race.

"That took care of Tiger," Drew thought. Now she had to take care of other... less essential stuff. For those, she brought along Callie and Iola, the ones who thought up the idea.

A couple of days after Drew had Tiger looked over and fitted with her new roll cage and canvas top, she brought Callie and Iola with her to Fifth Avenue, to the department store where she bought that business suit she wore when she had lunch with her dad at his office.

Drew flashed the "personal shopper" card she got that day, and the clerk that helped her before was paged. Drew introduced Callie and Iola to the girl, and the girl introduced herself to them as Lisa.

Callie and Iola explained to her what they needed: they needed a costume for a "thing" they were going to two Sundays from now, so the girl brought them to the Ladies Section. Over in a corner of the floor was an area that specialized in costumes and other related accessories. In another kind of store, that section would have been called the fetish section, but the items on display were actually pretty tame for that.

Lisa explained that, given Halloween was coming, they were starting to stock up on costumes, so they might just have what they were looking for.

Drew explained that what she needed was a race car driver's costume, and Lisa showed her what they had - they had about twenty kinds of racing car driver-themed outfits to pick from. The three girls chatted about the available outfits and they eventually picked a one-piece black-and-red one.

The costume they picked was actually more like a jumper or a playsuit, but made out of Nylon and Spandex. The tight, stretchy costume featured long sleeves and pants legs cut well above the middle of the thigh. From the waist down, it looked like hotpants.

On the sides of the torso and pants legs, and on the outer sides of the sleeves, the black was replaced by a black-and-white checkerboard pattern. The outfit also had a collar that had the same checkerboard pattern. Those and the iron-on racing stickers made the costume very race-car-driver like, but it was too sexy to look authentic (that was the whole point of the costume, after all). The costume also had a red band across the chest - when Drew tried it on, the red band just brought more attention to her C-plus-size boobies.

Iola looked around the rest of the displayed merchandise and picked up a pair of black fishnet pantyhose. Callie said maybe stockings might be more convenient but Iola pointed out that stockings wouldn't work given how abbreviated the pants legs were.

Drew went back in the changing room, put the hose on first, and then the costume.

When she stepped out, Iola looked her over and confirmed that the hose really did work with the costume.

The saleslady excused herself for a little bit and came back with a pair of knee-high patent-leather Pleaser boots that featured four-inch stiletto heels.

Drew sat and pulled on the boots. It was easy to pull them on and off since they had zippers on the side that went all the way from the heel to the top of the boot.

After pulling on the boots, she stood up and pulled down the zipper of the costume as low as she could without revealing her bra. Since she was wearing a string-bikini style bra, that was pretty low indeed, and her cleavage was put on display. She then sashayed up and down the aisle like a fashion model.

"So what do you think?" she asked the girls.

Iola wolfed whistled. "God, you're sexy!" she giggled. "Phil won't be able to concentrate on his driving!"

As for Callie, she just stared and didn't speak at all.

"Oh, Callie, I'm flattered, but stop with the over-acting already," Drew giggled. "Well, I guess that's it for my costume then. Now, how about you guys?"

"Huh?" Iola said.

"Let's get you guys your own sets - you're gonna be my pitstop crew after all."

So Lisa started to get two more sets for them but Callie stopped her.

"What if we changed ours a little bit?" suggested Callie. "So there'd be a distinction between your uniform and ours."

"What do you have in mind?"

"Let's see..."

They went through the available costumes again and, while Callie and Iola perused, Drew went through the selection of accessories and picked three pairs of silvered imitation Ray-Ban driving glasses as well as a couple of checkered racing flags.

Callie eventually picked out black and red Lycra jumpsuits for her and Iola. They were all black except that the long sleeves were red and had red strips on the sides of the torso extending all the way down the bottom of the pants legs. Like Drew's, they had a zipper in front that went from the bellybutton up to the collar, so it was easy to get into and out of them as well. They also had lots of racing stickers so there wasn't a doubt as to what kind of costumes they were.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

The sleeves and pants legs were slightly long. Lisa was about to suggest that they be altered but Iola said that the black-and-white checkerboard fingerless gloves that came with the costume covered the extra length of the sleeves, and the pants legs would tuck into boots anyway.

Speaking of boots, Lisa suggested a pair of women's fashion casual outdoor low wedge heel booties with a three-inch wedge heel. She also suggested a wide stretch-patent-leather belt that they could cinch tight around their middle.

When the two modeled their outfits for Drew, it was Drew's turn to be tongue-tied. Callie giggled and preened, and displayed her curves to their best advantage.

Drew gulped and just blushed.

When the two were done modeling their outfits, Drew asked Lisa to tally up their bill, so she went back to the counter, packed up their purchases and tallied up the total.

In the end, Drew spent a little over a thousand, but she didn't tell the girls. All she said was that she got a special discount 'coz she used her "personal shopper" card. Truth was, though, those cards really didn't do anything. But the girls believed her and didn't ask about the cost again.

Drew thanked Lisa for helping her again. They walked back and went to a Wendy's for a quick lunch, and then home. It was a Wednesday so Aunt Arlene was there. Callie whispered to Drew that she should hide all of the stuff they bought from Aunt Arlene because Aunt Arlene might get mad that Drew spent so much. Iola said the same thing about her folks, too, so they went in through the back door and Drew hid all of their stuff in her closet.

-----

On the days before the race, Drew tried to practice as much as she could. She didn't bring the girls because it might be dangerous. Iola and Callie, for their part, talked to Janine and the other cheerleaders, asking if they could help run interference during the race, in case anyone wanted to cause trouble.

Drew would go on the freeway and practice high-speed driving on the straightaways. Her speed was limited to around seventy max, of course, so that wasn't even close to what she intended.

So she called Otto and asked about the racing track that they dealt with. She tried booking lessons and found it wasn't too difficult. Apparently, most of their students booked time on the weekends, so she had the track all to herself during the weekdays. She had the pick of all of their training cars so she picked the fastest one they had.

The lessons that the instructor gave weren't too useful for her race with Phil Cohen except, perhaps, the ones about how to get as much acceleration from a standing start, managing curving straightaways and how to brake. Drew had booked three whole afternoons of lessons, and she maxxed out her time. On her last day, she asked if she could use her own car. They agreed, though a bit reluctantly, and when they saw it was just a little Opel Twin Top, they laughed.

It was Drew's first time to open her Tiger up all the way, and was very excited. Making sure Tiger's limiter was off, she revved her engine and gunned it as soon as the green light winked on.

The people from the track were slack-jawed at Tiger's performance and just watched as Drew went around and around the oval and got used to her speed and handling.

"Phil doesn't stand a chance," Drew thought, smiling.

-----

On the Saturday before the race, Drew went to her mechanics' garage for the racing tires.

She assumed that it was a simple swap of tires but, apparently, racing tires were a different thing altogether.

Otto explained that there are different kinds of racing tires for different kinds of conditions. He also explained the care and feeding of such tires - about how not to "deform" the tire by keeping it "resting" for too long, about keeping the tread as fresh as possible, that deeper grooves are needed for wet surfaces and smoother, softer tires for hot asphalt conditions.

Drew thought it was all a little too much to do about tires, but she dutifully sat through his lecture. Anyway, he eventually brought the lecture back to her car and said he'd picked out an asphalt track racing tire from Dunlop. He had his guys replace Tiger's rear wheels with the racing tires, and had them balanced before putting them back on. Otto pointed out the fact that they didn't have any tread at all, except for little bumps. The pattern was called "CC" and, along with the soft material of the tires, they were ideal for hot dry asphalts. The rubber would actually become a little sticky so it would give insane traction.

"You better pray that it doesn't rain tomorrow," Otto said. Apparently, this type of tire didn’t work well on wet roads.

He also had his guys put several canvas sacks full of sand in the trunk so that she could get better traction.

"Thanks, Otto," Drew said.

"Hey, no prob, Drew. You're my single best customer, and you're nice, and the guys like you. It's the least we could do. So, good luck tomorrow."

Drew gave him a kiss on the cheek, waved to his guys and drove away with the new pair mounted on Tiger's rear rims and her regular tires in her open trunk.

-----

Drew had already canceled her Sunday out with her dad. Surprisingly, Carson didn't make too much of a fuss since he was too busy preparing for a deposition anyway. In fact he left early Sunday morning. He left a note that he'd be in the office all day if she needed him, but said he was game to go out for dinner if she wanted.

As she soaked in the tub, she thought about the note, and missing her Sunday thing with her dad. First time, she thought. She felt guilty about it. She didn't strictly lie, she rationalized - strictly speaking, it was an omission rather than a lie. But in the end, she had to admit the truth - it was a lie. It was the first time she'd lied to him, at least with a lie this big.

What really bothered Drew was that she didn't even think about it when she set the bet for a Sunday. Could it be that she was taking her dad for granted? She couldn't bear the guilt that thought gave her.

"Well, what's done is done," she sighed. "I'll face the music and tell Dad later tonight."

Just as she was finishing her morning routine, Callie and Iola arrived. She rinsed off, put her gaff on and rushed downstairs to let them in.

Drew brought out their new race car outfits and they got ready.

After some toast and coffee, they trooped into the garage. Drew rooted around in a big PVC crate and pulled out her pearl-white helmet with some red accents, and a pair of race car driving gloves.

She and the girls dumped the helmet and their stuff in the back. With the bags of sand in there, there wasn't much room but there was just enough for the helmet and their things. Drew also brought a pair of comfy hi-top sneakers which she dumped in the front passenger footwell.

She then went around to the car's rear. The night before, she had lifted the back tires off the ground by using her dad's hydraulic jack. She thought doing this was appropriate given Otto's lecture. With a twist, the jack's lock was released and Tiger's rear went down.

Drew pushed the jack to the side and off they went to the designated "race track."

When they got to the place, almost the entire junior class was already there, waiting impatiently. Apparently, she and her girls were late. It was partly her fault - she just couldn't maneuver her super-high heels in order to step on the pedals properly, and the rear tires made for a slippery ride.

Still, they acted cool, and their mirrored driving sunglasses reflected the morning sunlight as they waved.

Someone had spray-painted a yellow line on the asphalt where the race was supposed to start, and Phil Cohen was already there on the line with his big customized Escalade. His hood and doors were all open, as per the tradition. Street rules said that everyone should be able to look through the cars so that the drivers wouldn't be caught unaware by any improvements, and to stop anyone from claiming to have been cheated.

Phil stood by his car, gesturing at his watch. Drew ignored that, jauntily waved to him and pulled up to the line. After a final rev, she switched Tiger off. She popped the hood and the trunk, and the three of them got out.

As they stepped out onto the asphalt, everyone, especially the guys, hooted and howled at their outfits.

Drew posed, preened, and bowed to her adoring public, and everyone howled. The zipper being pulled down as low as possible didn't hurt her sexiness aura either.

Callie and Iola, as arranged, opened the hood, trunk and doors wide open like they were models at a car show.

They then went to either side of Drew, and posed and waved to the crowd. The kids hooted and howled even louder.

A little freshman girl noticed Callie was holding a tiny camera and offered to take the pictures for her. She scurried away and started snapping pictures.

"Hi, everyone!" Drew called. "Thank you for coming out today. Anyway, this shouldn't take too long so I hope you can be patient."

Everyone laughed and clapped, and surged forward to look over the cars. No one was allowed to touch, but they could see into every nook and cranny of the vehicles. Drew took that opportunity to look over Phil's Escalade.

"Hey, Phil," Drew grinned. "How are you, today?"

"Hey, sexy," Phil said and sauntered over. Before he could put his arm around her shoulders, she moved away. "Damn," Phil said under his breath.

"So," she said as she looked down into the Escalade's engine compartment, "this is your car, huh? Seems to be more-or-less stock."

"Oh, absolutely!" Phil said. "I don't want to mess with her power plant and mess up her delicate ecosystem."

"'Ecosystem,' huh?" Drew giggled.

"Yep!"

Phil was very proud of his car and got a kick out of showing it off, especially to Drew Nance. He stayed back so he could watch Drew maneuver in her saucy little number while she inspected his car.

As for Drew, she was completely oblivious of how she looked and how it was affecting the people around her. She was concentrating on looking over Phil's Escalade and making mental notes of what she saw.

For the most part, Phil's car was indeed mostly stock. The engine was the original and unmodified one despite the attached superfluous air cleaner and decorative header covers. She peered in the driver's compartment. The dash and rear passenger compartments were cluttered up with a lot of junk - little TVs and a big, round speaker-woofer combination in the backseat. She wondered if any of Phil's friends could still hear. But Drew didn't see any other changes. She noted the automatic transmission, though.

She then kneeled on the asphalt and looked into the right front wheel well and underchassis. Yep, still stock, except for the lifters and the oversized truck tires. She wondered how that would affect the driveability, though.

As for Phil and the guys trailing her, most of their eyes were glued to her butt while she was bent over and looking at the car's underside.

As she got up and dusted herself off, the guys guiltily looked away and found other things to stare at. She then went to the back and then noted the new addition. Given the freshness of the cuts and hacks in the bodywork, she knew the addition was new. And what was added was a Nitrous Oxide injector.

She didn't really know what a Nitrous turbo booster would look like but the little tank with the label "NO2" was a dead giveaway. "Ohmigod!" Drew thought, but kept her expression neutral. The back seat had been removed and in its place was the NO2 tank and a bunch of tubes, hoses and valves. A couple of holes were drilled through the floorboards and a couple of the pipes went through and down the holes. Aluminum brackets and clips were drilled into the metal and held down the entire contraption. But the entire thing seemed a little haphazardly done and rushed. It was obvious that this was a new addition, but Drew couldn’t really protest since, if she did, Phil could say it’s been there ever since. And, if she did, Phil could make a big deal about Tiger’s mods as well. She decided to leave it alone.

Anyway, it seemed that the car, despite all of Phil's boasts, wasn't anything special, except for the Nitrous thing.

"My turn," Phil said, and Drew escorted him over.

Phil followed and watched Drew walk towards her little car in her sexy race car driver outfit.

The cheerleaders, minus Janine, were conspicuously hanging around Tiger, and were shooing people away and discouraging them from touching her. Callie and Iola, in their racing outfits, seem to be the ones directing them.

Drew went over to the girls and they congregated around her. A hug-fest ensued and Drew thanked them for their help.

Drew went back to Phil, and the girls continued to hang around Tiger, occasionally pulling people away and stopping some from touching or trying to get into Tiger.

Callie and Iola moved people back to give Drew and Phil room. Phil was a bit irritated because the crowd wasn't as curious about his car as they were with Drew's. And he wished that a bunch of hotties were around him, too, helping to keep people away. He snorted at that image and decided to finish his once over.

The first thing that Phil looked at was the engine, of course. "Wait," Phil said and pointed. "That's not standard."

"Yes, it's not standard," Drew said. "That's a two-liter engine block from a Mercedes CLA. Not as big as your car's but it does provide 300 horsepower. The Mercedes' top speed is 155 miles per hour. I don't know what Tiger's top speed is yet. Guess we'll see later."

"Tiger?"

"That's what I call my baby. It's an Opel Tigra. So 'tigra' - 'tiger.' Get it?"

"Cute."

Drew smiled. She also pointed out the rear tires. "Those are racing tires that I had put on just for this occasion."

Phil squatted down to take a look, and because of the unusual look of the tread, he concluded that Drew might not be lying and that they were probably really race tires.

Drea also pointed out the new roll bar. "I decided to attach the roll bar today. Seemed to be the right time for it."

Phil was about to touch it when Drew grabbed his hand. "Uh-uh!"

Phil sighed. "Okay, okay!"

He then went to the back.

"Note the fuel cell," Drew said.

"I noticed that right off," he lied. "Ummm, what's in the sacks?"

"Just sand. Just extra ballast to balance the weight and provide better traction."

"Of course," he said. "What else would they be for?" Actually, something like that would not have occurred to him. He wished he'd thought of it himself, even though he had no idea how to do it with an Escalade. Whattheheck was ballast anyway? And he was also kicking himself for not thinking of putting on racing car tires, too. He was mad his dad didn't tell him about ballast and racing tires.

He was happy, though, that he had the Nitrous supercharger put in a few days ago. At least Drew didn't have that. He wondered if he should switch it on right away, but decided on copying what the dragsters he'd seen on TV did with NO2 injectors. Phil could have made a big deal of Tiger’s mods, but he knew Drew saw the injector. If he brought them up, Drew could make an issue of the injector, and the injector was his secret weapon. He thought that Drew won’t have a chance if he had the injector so he just let things lie.

As Callie once said, Phil wasn't the brightest three-time junior in school.

-----

In a little while, Drew and Phil were on the line, revving their cars. A few yards in front of them were Callie and Iola in their sexy race car driver outfits. They had in their hands the two checkered flags that Drew bought.

Unseen by anyone, Drew surreptitiously unzipped and took off her sexy boots, put them in the passenger footwell and replaced them with her sneakers. She also clicked on the four-point safety belt.

She then made a big production about putting on her white helmet. She slowly brought down the visor, theatrically tugged on her gloves and waved to her audience. A big cheer went up. Phil felt bad because he didn't think of bringing a helmet as well. He also felt bad that his car wasn't a convertible so he could wave to the crowd the way Drew was doing...

Drew reversed fifty feet and then hit the accelerator full-on. Her back tires spun and squealed. When the car overcame her inertia and zoomed forward, Drew disengaged the clutch and hit the brakes. Her action left two thick rubber marks on the pavement. She reversed again and repeated the same maneuver. The smell of burning rubber was thick in the air.

"What's the crazy bitch doing?" one of the spectators, Biff Hooper, said. He was one of Phil's detention buddies.

"She's warming up her tires," one of the geeky kids responded. "It's called a burnout."

"What for?"

"It makes the rubber stickier and therefore give more traction."

"Phil!" Biff called out. "Do what she's doing!"

"Huh? Why?"

"Just do it, man!"

Reluctantly, Phil reversed as well.

The geeky kid shook his head.

"What's wrong?" Biff asked.

"Mistake."

When Phil tried doing what Drew was doing, his car's tires barely screeched. His car surged forward and hardly left a mark. He tried again and the same thing happened.

"Why isn't it working?"

"His tires aren't race car tires. It won't work."

"Phil!" Biff called again. "Quit it! It won't work!"

Phil waved and he moved his car to just behind the line.

Everyone watched Drew do burnouts three more times, and each time, the car seemed to accelerate forward more and more quickly. When she thought her tires were hot enough, Drew waved her hand signaling that she was ready. Drew pressed the milometer button to set it to zero.

Drew revved her engine and Phil did likewise, except Drew revved her engine in long, drawn-out revs as opposed to Phil's rapid and multiple revs. So while Drew's car went, "vrooommm... vrooommm... vrooommm," Phil's went "vroom-vroom-vroom-vroom-vroom..."

Callie and Iola took up their positions, about twenty feet in front of the cars - Callie on the left side of the road and Iola on the right. They started waving their flags in a figure eight, similar to how a cheerleader would swing a baton.

The crowd started to count down in long drawn out numbers starting with ten.

"Ten... Nine... Eight..." Drew revved her car in time with the count while Phil just did his "vroom-vroom-vroom" randomly.

"Six!” Vrooommm... “Five!” Vrooommm... “Four!” Vrooommm...

Drew renewed her grip on the steering wheel. Remembering her lessons, she switched her gearshift to First but kept her foot on the clutch. And when the count hit zero, and Callie and Iola brought down their flags, Drew popped the clutch and Tiger surged forward almost exactly on the count. That was because she was timing her revs with the count.

Phil was at a disadvantage. Because his was an automatic, his revs were all for show. When the count hit Zero, he dropped the gear into Drive and stepped on the accelerator. But because all his car had was a regular street car's transmission, the car accelerated comparatively sluggishly. Besides, his timing was a second off anyway. When his car started moving, Drew had already snap-shifted to Second.

Because his car was an automatic, all Phil needed to do was mash the accelerator down while Drew had to shift manually. But by the same token, Drew could also time it so that she would already be on maximum acceleration long before she hit top gear while Phil's car's preset transmission timing took a bit to shift between gears.

By the time Phil was doing thirty, Drew was already doing sixty, and was already several hundred feet ahead and increasing the gap by the second. Tiger was already cruising while Phil's Escalade was still struggling to catch up.

"Dammit, dammit, dammit!" Phil screamed.

As the trees flashed by her, Drew kept Tiger's speed climbing up steadily. She also kept her car locked into the gentle curve of the highway. At the speeds they were travelling, she couldn't afford to be jerky in her steering. So she kept Tiger running steady, and the little car just kept eating the miles.

As for Phil, he was still frustrated as he continued to play catch-up. He fingered the little toggle-switch and wondered if he should dare use the Nitrous now. But he remembered the movies he'd seen and it didn't seem the right time to trigger it. In the shows he'd seen, the hero would only trigger the Nitrous when they were near the finish line.

"The-fast-and-the-furious," he chanted. "The-fast-and-the-furious..."

As for Drew, she kept her eye on her milometer. So she kept accelerating and accelerating, and waited for when she would be four-fifths of the way. She looked at her speedometer and she saw she was nearing 160. She felt the thrill of driving so fast that everything she passed was a blur. She felt her head being pushed back into the headrest by the wind. That was how fast she was moving. Thank God for the helmet. Aside from the protection helmets provide during crashes, she discovered another thing that helmets did: it insulated her from the whistling sound of the wind, kept it from her face so that she didn't panic, and allowed her to concentrate. It also kept the worst of the cold from her head. Her fake driver's suit was no help with that, though. Also, it was a mistake to have kept the zipper pulled down as the air was funneled and trapped by the suit. So she reluctantly took one of her hands from the wheel and pulled the zipper up to its highest point and locked it, making the collar like a turtleneck. Thank goodness for that because she was able to tuck it underneath her helmet so there would be no more ballooning effect.

It was also a mistake not to have put the top on, but she wanted to be able to wave to the crows and everything. Vanity may eventually lose her the race, she thought. Her hands felt like the wind was pulling them away from the wheel. Not much but enough to be a distraction. But she resolutely maintained her grip and kept the wheel steady. The buffeting air swirled around in the open cab and felt its uneven tug pushing the car randomly left and right. If she had put up Tiger's top, maybe she'd be more stable and fly faster. Oh, well. Next time.

Drew had just shifted into Fifth, her final gear, before she noticed she was nearing the four-fifths mark. And as soon as she reached it, she slackened off the accelerator. Looking at the speedometer, she saw it steadily fall from a top speed of 190. Good thing, too, because she had started feeling Tiger shimmy. An effect of the slipstream, she supposed. She giggled. Who needed Nitrous?

Anyway, as she started to approach the roundabout and the end of their "track," Tiger's speed had gone down to sixty. She looked at her rear-view, and saw Phil closing the gap. She saw his grin as he realized he was starting to overhaul her, but that was dangerous. At the speeds he was going, she knew he wouldn't make the turn. Stupid! She started thinking of what she could do to help but she couldn't think of anything.

She was already down to thirty miles and Second when she entered the roundabout. She expertly maneuvered Tiger to make a wide turn. Her wheels screeched but managed to keep on her feet (thank God for the sandbags) and, after whipping around, Drew lined her up on the opposite lane and gunned the engine again. She pressed the reset button of the milometer again.

As she started on her return run, she saw Phil flash by her, his face in a grimace of fear.

After Phil saw Drew make the turn, he suddenly realized that he was going too fast to make the turn himself. He stood on the brake pedal and the tires started to squeal. The ABS made the car brake in pulses so that his tires didn't lock and he didn't lose control. But, he was still travelling too fast and would soon shoot out onto Route 440 and into traffic. Adrenalin increased and his perception was sharpened to one razor-thin edge. In that unaccustomed moment of clarity, he realized his predicament and was able to think of a way to, maybe, get him out of it: he pulled the hand brake.

With the handbrake on, the wheels locked up and the Escalade started to skid sideways. But since the speed had slackened enough, and there were no other cars, the Escalade didn't hit anyone or anything, and didn't slide around enough to turn turtle. It eventually stopped on the shoulder of 440, a foot from the passing traffic.

-----

He found himself shaking with suddenly-released tension and took a deep breath. But that same clarity that saved him also made him realize that Drew was already making headway in the other direction, and would be winning the race.

He couldn't allow that to happen. So he turned his car around and started his way back the way he came, on the same lane they came from. The effect was, Drew had the left lanes all to herself while he had the other lanes. He felt weird since he was going in what felt like the wrong direction, but since he was all alone, he didn't care.

He thought of other things he could do to increase his speed, but there was nothing. Amazingly, however, the distance between him and Drew wasn't that much, so he kept on accelerating. But after a few more seconds, he realized that Drew was steadily pulling ahead despite his continued acceleration. He looked at his speedometer and he was already maxxed out at 140 MPH, but Drew was still pulling ahead.

Suddenly, he remembered the Nitrous injector.

"The fast and the furious!" he yelled, and flicked the toggle. He heard a kind of hissing and then felt as if he was kicked in the middle of his back. He looked at the speedometer and he saw the needle quickly climb from 150 to 160, and then to 170. "Yaaah!" Phil yelled. "The fast and the furious!" Deep in his subconscious, he realized how stupid he was that he kept yelling that, but he couldn't help himself. He grinned like a fool and kept his foot mashed down on the gas.

When his car hit 175, it started to vibrate. He didn't know why, so he slackened off the gas. Drew, or that geek near the starting line, would have told him it was the air resistance, and that his car wasn't designed to drive that fast, but he didn't know that. All he knew was that the shaking scared him. He had already let off on the pedal a lot but the car only slowed a little bit. It was the Nitrous. Still, his car slowed, even if slowly. And as soon as it went below 170, the shaking stopped. So he rode the pedal and kept the car cruising at between 165 and 170.

He looked forward and to his left, and noticed Drew's car. He whooped. He thought he could still catch up. "Take that, you bitch!" he yelled.

But as soon as he did, he noticed an appreciable increase in the distance between them. And it was growing.

By his unprecedented acceleration, Drew knew Phil had hit his Nitrous injector. Drew had started accelerating again in order to counter his move and the distance between them started increasing again.

"Oh, nooo...” Drew said to herself. “No, no, no..."

She knew Tiger's limits now, well, more or less. She kept increasing the speed until she reached 190. From that point, she rode the gas pedal and kept the speed there. No more scary jiggling. The distance between them kept on increasing until she felt that Phil couldn't catch up anymore. Drew giggled.

She suddenly remembered and looked at the milometer. She was already more than halfway and nearing the four-fifths point. Damn...

When Drew finally hit that mark, she started reducing speed again, and she watched the speedometer go from 190 to 180. 160... 150... 140... And Phil started catching up again. Dammit!

As for Phil, he whooped for joy when he saw Drew start to slow. "All right!" he yelled, but then he heard something pop, and then white smoke started billowing out from under the hood. Condensation formed on his windscreen and changed to water droplets before being whipped away. From that, he realized it was the radiator.

His automatic reaction would have been to brake and pull over, but not at one hundred and seventy miles an hour... So, instead, he flicked off the Nitrous injector and shifted to neutral. Soon after that, his engine died.

The steam and condensation were blocking his view and interfering with his driving. He switched on his wipers which kept the problem down to a manageable level. He kept the ignition switched on despite the dead engine so that his steering wouldn't lock up, and he kept his foot off the brake. The intention was to wait until he coasted down to sixty or so, and then tap the brakes.

The realization came slowly, though, but when it did... "Dammit," he thought. "I lost the race..."

As for Drew, she wondered that, even though she was already down below 100, why hadn't Phil caught up. Soon she was down to sixty, and she saw the crowd near the finish line. Where was Phil?

At sixty, she flashed past them and braked gradually. She then turned Tiger around and stopped. This gave her an opportunity to change shoes again. As soon as she had her boots back on, she pulled her outfit's zipper back down to its original position (mustn't disappoint the fans, she giggled), and then drove forward until she met up with the spectators.

She stepped out of Tiger and raised her hands in victory. She lifted her faceplate, took off her helmet, raised it over her head and whooped in triumph.

Callie and Iola cannoned into her and hugged her until she begged for mercy.

In less than a minute, though, they saw Phil cruise over the finish line (which was originally the starting line), steam billowing out from under his hood. As soon as he did, he braked to a stop.

He stepped out of his big Escalade and grimly walked towards Drew. When he was close enough, he grimly held out his hand.

"Congratulations," he said while Drew grinned from ear to ear. "Great driving..."

He looked Drew up and down. "...Sexy..."

Drew frowned and rolled her eyes.

- The End -