cherry red - what they called their father’s MISSING truck
Cherry Red
Darcy slammed on the brakes, sending my head flying forward. I cry out as she laughs, rubbing my shoulder.
“Sorry Sis,” she says. “The brakes are a bit touchy.”
“I can tell!” I snarl. “Jeez! You better hope I don’t have a concussion.”
“I hope you don’t have a concussion,” Darcy smirks. She jams her lead foot onto the gas, and the old 2000 Toyota lurches forward. The wheels squeal as we approach sixty miles per hour. Darcy speeds down our street, looking a lot like a NASCAR driver.
“Whoa!” I cry. “Stop the car!” I screech. Darcy hits the brake, sending me flying forward once again. My head pounds as I step out of her car, staring at the scene before me.
A man laid alone, sleeping. I walked around him, staring at the car in front of me.
It was a slightly damaged, cherry red Ford truck. I gaped at it, as it still had its keys in the ignition. Who would leave such a beauty? I thought to myself in astonishment.
“Darcy! Get out here - now!” I cried.
“What? Marcia, where are you?!” Darcy called.
“Here!” I yelled as Darcy walked by me.
“Well, what is it?” Darcy looked at the truck, raising an eyebrow at me. Darcy laughed. “If you want to steal this thing, we’re not going to have any space for it so... that’s a no!” I sigh.
“It’s Dad’s old truck!” I cry. “Remember? Cherry Red!”
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