RACERS

ISABELLE'S POV The first rule of being Isabelle Carter? Never trust a quiet morning. Especially when your mother is involved. “ISABELLE! GET OUT OF THAT BED!” I groaned and buried my face beneath my duvet. “I'm awake!” “No, you're not!” “I am!” “Then why am I still shouting?” I opened one eye. Because apparently, my mother had decided that peace was a crime. I reached blindly for my phone on the bedside table. 7:15 A.M. My eyes widened. Oh, absolutely not. I threw the duvet aside and jumped out of bed so quickly that my foot caught the edge of the rug. “Stupid rug!” I glared at it as though it had personally ruined my life before rushing into the bathroom. Ten minutes later, I stood in front of my wardrobe, staring at the outfit that represented everything wrong with my mornings. White shirt. Plaid skirt. Knee-high socks. The perfect uniform for the perfect daughter. Unfortunately, my parents had failed to produce one. I pulled my curly hair into a high ponytail, grabbed my backpack and hurried towards the door. Then I heard it. A deep, powerful growl rolled through the quiet neighbourhood. I froze. My head turned towards the open window. A sleek silver sports car sped down the street, its modified exhaust announcing its arrival long before it disappeared around the corner. My lips parted. My heart practically leapt out of my chest. “Beautiful,” I whispered. Some girls woke up thinking about boys. I woke up thinking about horsepower. And honestly? I saw nothing wrong with that. “ISABELLE!” I nearly jumped out of my skin. “COMING!” I grabbed my bag and rushed downstairs, where my mother stood beside the dining table with her arms folded. She took one look at me and sighed. “One day, Isabelle, you're going to give me a heart attack.” “Good morning to you too, Mother.” “Don't start.” I reached for a piece of toast. She slapped my hand away. “Sit down and eat properly.” “Mum, I'm already late!” “Perhaps you should have woken up when I first called you.” I dropped into a chair with a dramatic sigh. Sometimes, I genuinely wondered whether I had been adopted. Because there was absolutely no way a woman this strict had given birth to someone as wonderful as me. “By the way,” she said, pouring herself a cup of tea, “your father and I need to discuss something with you this evening.” I stopped chewing. Oh, no. That sentence had never brought good news. “What did I do?” “Why do you automatically assume you've done something wrong?” “Because whenever you and Dad need to discuss something with me, I usually end up losing one of my basic human rights.” She gave me a warning look. I smiled sweetly. “So, what is it this time? My phone? My friends? My freedom?” “Isabelle.” “Okay, okay. I'm eating.” But as I took another bite, an uncomfortable feeling settled in my stomach. Whatever my parents wanted to discuss, I had a feeling I wasn't going to like it. And if it had anything to do with cars, racing or the little secret I'd been keeping from them for months... I was in serious trouble. You see, my name is Isabelle Carter. I'm eighteen, currently in high school, and I have a secret. I'm obsessed with cars. Not just the pretty ones people take pictures beside. I mean engines, horsepower, modified exhausts, racing tyres, the smell of petrol and the sound of an engine coming alive. And street racing? That's the dream. My parents, unfortunately, consider that dream a personal attack on their peace of mind. They want me to graduate, get into a good university, choose a respectable career and live a perfectly ordinary life. I want something a little different. I want to learn everything there is to know about cars. I want to sit behind the wheel of a powerful machine and experience the thrill of racing on a proper track. And one day, I intend to make a name for myself. But first, I have to survive high school. Which, in my opinion, is a much more exhausting challenge. --- “Are you planning to walk to school, or are you going to move those legs?” I looked up from my phone. My mother stood beside the front door, car keys in hand. The look on her face suggested she was three seconds away from leaving me behind. “Relax, Mum. I've got plenty of—” “Isabelle Carter.” I grabbed my backpack. “Okay! I'm moving!” A few minutes later, I was in the passenger seat of my mother's SUV, watching the city come alive. Cars filled the roads. Horns blared impatiently, pedestrians hurried along the pavements, and a delivery truck rumbled past us. Then I saw it. A bright red Nissan GT-R. My head turned so quickly I nearly gave myself whiplash. “Mum! Did you see that?” “See what?” “The car!” “Yes, Isabelle. I saw a car.” I stared at her. Sometimes I wondered whether my mother had a functioning soul. “That was a Nissan GT-R!” “And?” “And it's beautiful!” She sighed. “Please don't start.” “Start what?” “This obsession of yours.” I folded my arms. “It's not an obsession. It's an interest.” “Your education should be your interest.” “It is.” She glanced at me. I smiled innocently. “Cars just happen to be a very close second.” “Isabelle, I'm begging you to behave like a normal eighteen-year-old girl.” “Define normal.” She opened her mouth, closed it again and shook her head. I grinned. One point for Isabelle. Zero for parental authority. Unfortunately, my victory didn't last. “Your father and I have been talking,” she said. Oh, no. Not again. I slowly turned towards her. “About what?” “Your future.” I groaned. “Can my future please have a day off?” “Isabelle.” “What? I'm serious! My future gets discussed more often than the weather.” “Because you refuse to take certain things seriously.” I looked out of the window. I knew exactly where this conversation was heading, and I had no intention of having it for the thousandth time. My parents wanted a daughter who followed the rules, got excellent grades, went to university and chose a respectable career. I wanted to drive, learn, race and build a life around the one thing that made my heart beat faster. Somewhere between those two dreams, neither side seemed willing to surrender. And I had a feeling I was going to lose my mind before either of them gave in. The school gates finally came into view. The moment Mum stopped the car, I grabbed my bag and practically launched myself out. “Have a good day!” I called. “You too!” “And Isabelle?” I turned. “No racing.” I stared at her. Then I smiled. “Of course, Mum.” She narrowed her eyes. I blew her a kiss and hurried through the gates before she could ask any more questions. Because, technically, I hadn't promised not to watch a race. And watching wasn't racing. Right? “ISABELLE CARTER!” I barely had time to turn around before someone threw their arms around my shoulders. “YOU'RE LATE!” I laughed, recognising that voice immediately. Mia Johnson. My best friend. My personal headache. And the only person who could make an ordinary school morning feel like the beginning of an adventure. I turned around and caught her in a hug. “Good morning to you too, drama queen.” She pulled back, looking me up and down. “Girl, you look like you fought your alarm clock and lost.” “I won. The alarm clock is still alive, though.” Mia burst out laughing. And just like that, my morning was getting better. What I didn't know was that before the day was over, my ordinary school life would take another turn. One that would bring me closer to the world I'd been dreaming about. And to a certain arrogant boy who would make it very difficult to remember that I was supposed to stay away from trouble. But that? That is a story for another day.