Too dark, too fast. But the kid doesn’t care. Two sweaty hands on the wheel and eyes straight ahead. It’s happening.
He knows what the talk will be. Stealing the old man’s car – a reckless act by a spoiled kid. Boys.
Only he knows it’s more.
He presses his foot down harder and feels the glossy convertible accelerate. His arms tense, his eyes water from the rushing wind.
From the outside, they’re the perfect family. Inside, anything but.
The car skids around the corner, tires squeal. Sirens rise behind him.
He’s not going back. And no one’s gonna make him.
The Weekday One Hundred 