SU BAILEY<br/><br/><div class="floatleft">(http://i279.photobucket.com/albums/kk137/HaibaneR/Su_Avatar.jpg)</div>Mom and Dad had both gone out to work by the time I'd got up, showered, dressed (http://www.superphotospace.com/images/kim_kardashian1559_49f58aa909347.jpg) and trotted over from my crib to the house. I found mom had left some breakfast for me and a note about picking up her poopy Paulo Nutini CD from Mrs' Vandren when I went round tonight to get my Xbox back from Jamie Vandren. Honestly, I didn't<em>need</em>my Xbox back and Jamie had clearly gotten to that stage where he thought that being my next-but-one neighbour and being on Xbox borrowing terms meant he had the right to run his gaze over me like he had two invisible and well trained slugs to guide about on my chest. Yeah. Jamie had crossed that fine line between friend to creepy pervy dude just like so many boys did. Most had no backbone to ask me out, they just<em>hung around</em>you know?<em>Looking</em>. Ugh. Spare me. Teenage boys are the most unstable species around. Some are fine, sure but some... sheesh. It makes me shiver. It makes me look more to older men as well, you know? People with some experience, who know what they want and how to go get it. People with drive and confidence, not spots and wankers wrist.<br/><br/>Boys. Jeez.<br/><br/>Breakfast was scrambled egg and pancakes and syrup.<strong>"Gawd, mom, I'm on a diet here! I can't eat this shit and wear my cheerleaders outfit! I'll look gross!"</strong>I spoke aloud to the empty house in exasperation. I was already pushing ten stone and some of my size 6 dresses were getting tight. It was depressing. Coach Zimmerman had said to me last week that he thought I was looking a bit tubby round the middle.<br/><br/>Tubby. He actually said tubby.<br/><br/>Honestly, a girl needs supportive criticism when she's got these sorts of pressures on her plate, not to be told in so many words that's she's<em>too freakin' fat!</em><br/><br/>I got a slice of cold toast from the rack and found some cottage cheese in the fridge and spreading the one on the other I munched the cold gooey mess as I grabbed my psychology texts from the table by the TV. Stuffing them in my bag and weakening as I went by ...<em>mom, it's your fault!</em>I dipped the spoon in the eggs and wolfed down two mouthfuls as I went by.<br/><br/><em>Awww... too much salt again, mom!</em><br/><br/>I bounced down the front steps, unlocked Steve and jumped in him, chucking my bag in the passenger seat.<br/><br/>Steve (http://i279.photobucket.com/albums/kk137/HaibaneR/1968-Ford-Mustang-Fastback-GT390.jpg) is the love of my life. Named after McQueen, of course, I've taken two advanced driver courses over the winter and now I'm pretty darn good at donuts, handbrake- and J-turns and controlling slides and doing drifts. I'm not sure I'd want to throw Steve around quite like I threw the test car about on the skidpan but I reckon in a pinch I'd do it. I do all my best driving outside town and away from the city speed limits and the cops. Up in the mountains.<br/><br/>I turned the radio on as I headed down The Avenue and pulled left towards Good Street, Steve giving a reassuring throaty roar as I accelerated between parked cars. He has that sound of a real car you know? None of the crap almost-silent sounds from post-pollution legislation for this baby. A child of the sixties, a real muscle car. At Meahe Street I hung a right over River Walk Bridge towards the firehouse. Before I got there though I took the left towards Ennnerdale sliding through the corner with a satisfying squeal of Goodyears over the drain covers and a throaty V8 Detroit roar. They just don't build cars like this any more.<br/><br/>At Ennerdale the lights were against me and I joined a queue of cars waiting at the intersection. The radio had interrupted the Morning Rock Hour to give some news report about rioting in Westside. Those bums again. Why don't they just get off their lazy asses and get a job for Pete's sake? I dialled the radio over to KWLM and picked up the Dave Trent show and the satisfying sound of Rush came out the speakers. [noembed]<em>Red Barchetta</em>(http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=epr144KsKGI)[/noembed]. My kind of music. I turned the volume way up and bopped along in my seat, thumping out the drum line on the steering wheel. As the lights went green I roared across and up Darios Street ever-so slightly in excess of the speed limit.<br/><br/>I turned off Darios and into School Walk, parking Steve up with a satisfying scrunch of gravel behind the baseball pitch bleachers. Katie Maxwell was there and Anne Rockingham. I waved as I got out, grabbing my bag and going over.<br/><br/><strong>"Morning girls!"</strong>I called cheerfully.<br/><br/>Another school day, same as ever. Practice tonight though which was always fun, especially going out to eat afterwards. We might even find some guys who weren't total dorks.