At this point, I don’t really care whose car it is.
“You want to hit with full force,” I say. “Let’s start with the mirrors. Those are easier to destroy, and with all the fiddly electronics inside, they aren’t even that cheap to replace.”
I do a slow-motion whack on the mirror to show Samantha how it’s done.
“We’re going to get in so much trouble if we get caught,” Samantha hedges. But she lifts the bat anyway, and I’m proud to seethat she goes all-in from the start as she swings at the mirror with full force.
The mirror cracks and breaks. I add my own whack, and that makes the mirror break off entirely, left to dangle on the side of the car.
Fuck, that’s a rush.
Carly makes a distressed sound. “You guys…”
“If you aren’t going to demolish cars with us, at least play lookout,” I say to her.
“We’re only going to do a little more,” Samantha reassures her. “Right, Pandora?”
“Uh-huh,” I say, swinging my bat again.
This time, I bring it down on the windshield. It cracks immediately, but the glass is actually surprisingly solid.
“Hit in the same spot I did,” I say, pointing with my bat.
Samantha hesitates this time, then mutters, “She probably has great insurance.” She hits the splintering spot hard, and cracks spread across the windshield. Then she hits it again. And again.
She must have more anger to take out than she wants to admit.
As soon as the windshield shatters, the car alarm goes off, like it was waiting for a full breach into the interior.
“Shit!” Carly glances around frantically. “Are we done?”
“Eh, I think we’ve got a few more seconds.” I take my bat to the other mirror, while Samantha slams hers into the side windows.
This is so much fun.
I haven’t destroyed a car in ages. For the last one, Ares and Kratos had been there and we’d disabled the car alarm first. The teacher had been a dick to one of Ares’s friends.
We’re nice like that, always looking out for our own.
I hum to myself as I keep whacking the car.
“Guys! Somebody’s coming out of the church!” Carly shouts.
“Okay,nowwe’re done,” I say with a wild grin. I grab Samantha’s gloved hand. “Come on. Time to run!”
Samantha lets me take her hand, and she lets out a manic laugh asI pull her away from the car. She drops the bat from her other hand, leaving it behind as we put distance between ourselves and the car we’d just demolished.
We both laugh as we run, Carly on our heels. Somebody shouts at us from behind, but they don’t give chase, and we reach our parked—and stolen—getaway car without a hitch.
I get into the driver’s seat and yank off my ski mask, waiting only until Samantha and Carly are both in the car before I hit the gas.
“Pandora! I don’t have my seatbelt on yet!” Carly complains.
I burst out laughing. “Time is of the essence! It’s not a getaway if we don’t get away.”
“We really did that,” Samantha says, and I don’t know what to make of her tone. Is she happy? Ashamed?
As exhilarated as I am?
