Holden Peters expects nothing exciting to happen during the summer before his final year of high school. But in a spontaneous act of bravery, he saves his pretty next door neighbour from drowning and is deemed as a local hero.
Thanks to his newfound...
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"That would be perfect if we still didn't have these left over pieces," Quinton said, opening his hand to showcase a variety of metal bolts.
I rolled out from under the car and picked up my shirt from the driveway, wiping the material against my forehead before placing it over my bare shoulder. For Christmas, Beth and Dad had combined resources and had scored me a second-hand car.
The coat was still in perfect condition, had a great set of wheels and a pretty impressive interior. The only catch was that it wouldn't start up. But I was determined that Quinton and I could fix it without having to get ripped off by a mechanic.
I groaned in frustration, walked over to the hood of the vehicle and stared down at the intricate arrangement of parts. I was familiar with the basic anatomy of a car, but I never thought an in-depth study was necessary. And I was starting to regret not taking the car manufacturing course provided at school.
As I stared at the car with unfocused vision, a small laugh escaped from Flo's lips. She was sitting in the shaded part of our driveway, cross legged and engrossed in a book. Her lips twitched up into a smile as she let out a small round of laughter. I couldn't help but smile.
Quinton nudged my side. "Dude, you got it bad."
As soon as the words were spoken, Tess walked out of the house, shoulders hunched over a tub of yoghurt. Quinton instantly straightened and slowly stretched, hoping his lack of covered torso would manage to capture her attention.
"Speak for yourself," I muttered. Quinton shoot me a glare before returning to his 'casual' stance.
Tess seemed unfazed though and walked right past him. "Hey, muscles, mind driving me to work?"
I shook my head, giving her an apologetic smile. "Wish I could, but my car is being an asshole. Won't start up."
Walking around her and poking my head through the open window, I reached in and turned the key. It wheezed pathetically, emphasising my point. Because my car had been baking out in the sun, the metal exterior acted as a conductor of heat, cranking up the interior temperature to a burning degree. So when I removed my head, a new layer of sweat had formed on my forehead.
"Hey, I have muscles too," Quinton said, having no shame in flexing for her. A playful smirk crossed his lips as Tess looked away a little too quickly, her eye roll only half hearted. "Where's your car anyways? You're more of a driver than a passenger."
"I know," she answered. "But part of my Christmas present was getting my car a new paint job, so it's down at Richard's mate's place. Holden, maybe you can ring him up and see if he can check out your car."
"Sounds pretty good at the moment," I answered.
"Get Richard to call him in the morning," Tess said before scooping up some yoghurt into her mouth. "He took Mum into the city for the Boxing Day sales and God-knows when they'll be back. In the meantime, can someone please give me a lift to work?"
