“Look out!” shouted Chase as Max threw his car around a particularly tight corner.
“I wouldn’t have to look out if you’d stop babbling gibberish about time-travelling pirates – it’s putting me off!” Max slammed the car into second gear and gunned the throttle, but not much happened. His retro sports car looked amazing with its stainless-steel body and gull-wing doors, but the engine didn’t live up to the sporty promise of the outside. “I think you need help, Chase,” he shouted over the screaming engine. “It’s OK to ask for support, you know – all this blowing up school and detentions and acting out about time pirates. It’s all a plea for attention. Being a teenager is tricky…” He slewed the unwieldy car around the bottom of the steep hill leading to the seafront in a cloud of tyre smoke.
