Untitled novel-chapter 2- The go-kart

Chapter 2:
The go-kart sat at the top of the driveway, gleaming—or at least as much as a hand-me-down contraption with a missing engine and a paint job inspired by the A-Team could gleam. Its black paint was accented with a red stripe we had painstakingly added using leftover house paint. It wasn’t perfect, but to us, it might as well have been the real thing.

We spent hours making it look just right, and now it was time to take it for a ride.

“Let’s play A-Team,” Tommy said. “I’ll be Hannibal because I have the plan.”

“I’ll be B.A.,” Brandon chimed in.

“You’re too pale to be B.A.,” I complained.

“Shut up, fool! I pity the fool!” Brandon retorted.

“All right, all right, you’re B.A.,” I conceded. “I’ll be Crazy Murdock.”

“Fine, I’ll be Face,” Rob said, his shoulders slouching in disappointment. “But I’m always Face.”

“That’s because you’re so damn handsome, Rob,” Tommy said, trying to mollify his brother.

“Oh, shut up,” Rob muttered, though he couldn’t hide his smile.

“All right, I’ll get in, and you guys start pushing,” Tommy bossed.

“Hold on a minute,” Brandon interrupted. “B.A. always drives.”

“Oh yeah. Okay, B.A., I guess you better get in, and we’ll start pushing,” Tommy said, resigned. He adjusted his imaginary cigar and nodded at us. “Operation Downhill. Let’s get this mission rolling.”

The three of us pushed the go-kart as hard as our little legs could manage while Brandon took the wheel. The kart wobbled, the wheels squealing as though already protesting what we were about to do. As soon as it started moving faster than we could keep up with, Tommy shouted, “Go, go, go!”

We scrambled to climb in or hold on to the sides, and just like that, we were flying down the steep driveway, laughing, shouting, and clinging on for dear life so we didn’t fall off.

“I love it when a plan comes together!” Tommy cackled.

The kart wobbled harder, veering slightly to the left. Brandon yanked the wheel and, in his gruffest voice, shouted, “Hold on, fools! We got turbulence!”

We all screamed as the kart flew off the end of the driveway and onto the gravel street below. Dust and gravel kicked up all around us as the kart finally slowed to a shaky stop, tilted awkwardly to the side. We sat in stunned silence for a moment, catching our breath.

Finally, Tommy pulled his imaginary cigar from his lips and declared, “That was exactly what I planned.”

Rob dusted himself off. “Well, I looked amazing—even though your plan almost killed us.”

“Woo-hoo! Let’s do it again!” I said.

“Let’s push it back up the driveway,” Tommy ordered.

“Oh, man,” we collectively whined.

“Stop your bellyaching. We’re the A-Team, remember?”

We all groaned, but deep down, we couldn’t wait for round two