Page 29 of Pride High 2: Orange

“If you’re scared now,” Diego murmured while guiding him away, “wait until you meet Frankenstein.”

What the hell did that mean? Is that what he called his wiener? And if so, how come? Because it was a big monster? Or maybe it was covered in scars. Either way, he had already told Diego that he was taking a break from such things. But if he insisted…

“Where are we going?” Ricky asked.

“We’re gonna have some fun,” Diego said, glancing over at him. “After I run a few errands. Cool?”

He nodded eagerly, none the wiser but still just as willing. Diego led them to a ratty old sports car that was parked askew. Most of the body had been replaced by panels of various colors. The doors were dark green, the roof was gun-metal gray, and a yellow frame surrounded the four rectangular headlights. The rest was black, including the hood, which had a faded shape painted on it. Ricky could only tell that it was some sort of stylized bird.

“Ricky, this is Frankenstein,” Diego said, as if making introductions. “Frankenstein, this is Ricky.”

“Hello,” Ricky said, raising his hand in greeting.

“Hop in,” Diego said.

He waited by the passenger door, thinking that Diego would have to get inside to unlock it. Instead he glowered at Ricky over the top of the car. “Having second thoughts?”

“No. I’m waiting for you to…” He tried the door in demonstration, surprised to discover that it was unlocked. “Oh! Aren’t you worried about someone stealing your stuff?”

“Nope.” Diego’s grin was vicious. “Everyone knows who this car belongs to.”

Ricky felt a thrill as he slipped inside and pulled the door shut, sealing his fate. The interior smelled like a mixture of Drakkar Noir and Armor All. He ran a hand along the black leather of the seat, thinking of the jacket Diego always wore. The dashboard was textured metal, the gauges sunken and round. The steering wheel was a minimal black circle with three steel bars that met in the middle. Diego settled into the driver’s seat, looking very much like an extension of the car. Rugged and dark.

Diego stuck a key in the ignition and turned it, the engine roaring to life as he pressed on the gas pedal a few times to make it rev. He stared at Ricky with copper-colored eyes while doing so.

“It doesn’t sound old at all!” Ricky said in surprise.

“Because I’ve tweaked this bad boy to perfection.”

“What about the exterior? Are you going to paint it?”

Diego shrugged, leather rubbing against leather. “Not really my thing. Besides, I’d have to change the name, and I really don’t want to.”

“It does look sort of cool,” Ricky said.

“Wait ’til you see how he drives,” Diego said, grabbing the shift stick.

The car lurched backwards in a semi-circle before launching forward to the squealing of tires. Ricky felt like he was in a centrifuge as the car wove through the parking lot and rounded a corner. He groped around for a seatbelt while trying to peel himself off the seat. He finally got buckled up when they stopped at a traffic light.

“It’s really cool that you can drive stick,” Ricky said.

Diego’s lips curled into a smile. “Yeah? You like that?”

He nodded, already knowing that most of his fantasies during the coming week would take place in this setting. Ricky casually checked the backseat, which was way too cramped to be accommodating, but there were no limits to the power of his imagination.

“What kind of car is this?” he asked.

“A seventy-seven Trans Am. Same age as me. This was my dad’s car.”

“How nice of him to give it to you,” Ricky said. “I wouldn’t want what my parents drive.”

Diego cocked a questioning eyebrow at him.

“My mom has a minivan,” Ricky explained. “My dad drives a Honda Accord.”

Diego grimaced, as if in pain. “I’d rather walk.”

“That’s what I do now. My house isn’t far from the school. Although when it starts to snow, I’ll have to take the bus or let my mom drive me. Which do you think is worse for my reputation?”