The sudden unnatural glow of my room being produced by a text message let me know that it was time. I was sneaking out with my boyfriend Ryan for the 4th time this week. Ryan and I weren’t bad kids, we just didn’t want our parents draining the joy and excitement from our lives. I slowly lowered myself onto each descending stair hoping that one squeak wouldn’t announce to the entire household that I was leaving. It reminded me of Christmas mornings as a child when I would slowly sneak down the steps to see the presents that Santa had brought. Those were some of my best childhood memories because I had the Christmas tree to myself. Once I reached the door I began to clutch the handle in my grasp but suddenly my dog came jogging in. He had a slight growl in the back of his throat, right on the verge of barking. I whispered for him to go back and eventually he trotted away. I gently closed the front door behind me and a gust of icy wind cut across my face and continued onward as it blew the soft, crystalized powder from yard to yard. Ryan was about a half a block away so he wouldn’t be seen by my parents. He stood beside his car which sat beneath one of my street lights which illuminated the two. I could tell that the car wasn’t running because the car had no lights on and there was no CO2 emerging from the exhaust. When I reached Ryan I smiled and walked around to the passenger side of his car. It was a silver manual 2007 Pontiac g6. Ryan had gotten it for his birthday a few years ago and had treated it like his baby ever since. I shook the door handle until every flake of ice that was sealing it shut was gone, I yanked the door open and sat down in the low fabricated seat. The car had been off for just enough time for the seat to return to its frosted state which could only be combated by the heat of my own body. Ryan climbed into the drivers side, inserted the key, and ignited the engine. The car coughed on and started to hum. The vents began blowing cold air on me before I had the chance to turn them away, the car always took awhile to heat up. We sat there and without saying much before driving off. Silenced still consumed the car as we continued down the slick road. I could feel the worn out rubber from the tires frantically try to grasp onto whatever they could as we took each turn.

Around fifteen minutes had passed and our destination was in sight. The prolonged silence must’ve enhanced the energy and excitement that we were currently enduring. “It’s almost time,” I thought to myself, my heart was beating fast and my legs were restless. Ryan was doing his best to keep his foot still on the pedal but I knew that he too could hardly wait. We rounded one last impeding corner and entered into a parking lot. To our left was a giant grey building that seemed to stretch for a mile, it was the old GM car plant. Around ten years ago the plant relocated in Springfield, a city 50 miles North of us. The relocation left us a giant vacant parking lot with little obstacles and impediments. I tuned to Ryan and smiled. He returned the expression, “you ready?” he asked. It was the first thing that had been said between us.

“Let’s go,” I said with an excited and also composed tone in my voice, I had to sound cool. Ryan grabbed the gray composite material of the steering wheel with one hand and gripped the stick. He took a deep breath, pressed his left foot on the clutch and his right foot on the gas. The tires began to spin quickly melting the thin layer of snow and ice between us. Suddenly Ryan moved his foot off the clutch and the car took off. We were about halfway across the lot when the car hit 60. Quickly, Ryan hit the beaks and spun the wheel, the car wrapped around itself in a tight circle sliding on the frictionless ice. We rotated 180 degrees before the gas was ignited once more, the car flew off before Ryan repeated his action by spinning the wheel. This time we completed two full circles before accelerating again. To us every patch of undisturbed snow was a canvas for our wheels to paint on. When we were starting to become satisfied with the art we had created and the thrill we had experienced that night we sat alone with the radio playing. Snow began to fall and each flake slowly blanketed an uncovered patch of the windshield, it was peaceful and couldn’t be interrupted. I began to remember all of those fun snow days where my siblings and I spent hours in our backyard. I could picture all of us underneath our newly built igloo looking up at the ceiling of packed snow. The light that was able to bleed through had a slight blue tint to it which gave the igloo a magical feel. Those were good times. Off in the distance we heard police sirens in the distance, their pitch added to a sweet melody that we were experiencing that night. I leaned back and let my thoughts blend with nature.

Suddenly Ryan nudged my shoulder, “hey do you hear that?”

“Hear what?” I said not fully alert.

“The sirens,” he said with a bit of urgency, “they sound pretty close.”

I sat up, “you’re right that’s strange, not many people live back h…” before I could finish three police cars flew into the parking lot and surrounded our car. “Ryan!” I screamed but I knew he couldn’t do anything. The sirens weren’t pleasant anymore, they now produced an ear splitting wail that almost forced you to curl up in pain. We heard a few solid pounds on the car and the muffled yells of “get out!” Slowly Ryan and I both stepped out of the car and walked around toward the back, still unsure of what we’d done wrong. The unnecessary intensity of the strobing red and blue lights made me nauseous and light headed. Without resistance I was placed in one car while Ryan was another. The officer inside was very nice to me, he could understand that I was scared and confused. “Am I in trouble?” I asked quietly, my voice had a noticeable quiver to it.

“No, you two are going to be fine. We got a call from your parents who noticed you sneaking out and they wanted to send this as a punishment for breaking their rules.”

“Oh great,” I thought to myself, “it is going to be awful when I get home, I’m never going to hear the end of this.” The ride home was a strange one, part of me was concerned about my future punishment but another part of me was relieved that this was probably the best situation being forced into a police car could get me. When I did get home I didn’t say anything, both my parents were on the front porch and I hardly acknowledged them, I didn’t have to.