Whatever confusion there was with the end of the first chapter, I hope it gets cleared up now. Thanks y'all for reviewing! Hope you're enjoying the fic!

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2: Parity

Harvick shifted into fourth gear, as he tore through Ward's neighbourhood in a hot Ford F150. Wind ripped through the open windows, through the cabin and over and through Kevin. "Woo hoo!" the Winston Cup driver howled through the night. "Ohhh yeah!"

A Dodge Ram shot up beside the Ford. "Hey!" DW hollered, squinting into the wind. "Pull over a second, will ya!"

The Ram slipped behind the Ford, and followed it into an elementary school parking lot. Kevin whirled the F150 around the lot, before skidding into a spot by a flag pole. The Ram squealed to a stop beside it, and the driver's side door of each truck swung open.

"That was such a freakin' rush!" Harvick exclaimed, pulling off his cap and flinging it into the truck. He ran both hands through his hair. "Oh, man! I thought Burton'd see us!"

"Shh!" DW hissed, raising and lowering palms-down hands at waist level. "Keep it down, young gun! You don't want to get us into trouble!"

Harvick cackled. Slapping the older man's arm, he exclaimed, "We are knee deep, old timer!"

"Yeah, well let's race before we get hauled off anywhere, shall we?"

Harvick nodded. Silence between the two slipped in long enough for chirping crickets to take over the conversation. DW glanced about the vast expanse of parking lot, and toward the flag pole and surrounding trees, over which a red brick school peaked out. Pursing his lips, Darrell turned to Harvick.

"We need to agree on some rules," he informed the other. Harvick nodded. Looking around, he scratched his head.

"I'm assuming this is the track," Harvick voiced, pointing to the ground.

DW shrugged. "Where else are we gonna race? We can't go shooting around the streets; someone could get hurt. It just ain't safe."

Harvick nodded. Drawing a hand to his chin, he asked, "So how many laps around would you say?"

"I'd say…," DW looked to his left. "I'd say ten should do it." Turning back to Harvick, he added, "We don't want to be out here too long, or we might get some unwanted attention."

Tossing a thumb to the F150 behind him, Harvick grinned. "And we don't want to kill Ward's trucks."

"Aw, we'll make it up to the ol' boy somehow."

Crickets chirped. DW rounded the Dodge and flung open the door. "Around the parking lot," he called. "No crossing into white lines…"

"Hey, wait a minute!" Harvick hollered. DW glanced through the truck's cabin and windows at the other. The Goodwrench driver pointed to the Dodge. "Why do you get the Ram?"

"It just happened to be the one I swiped!" DW retorted, raising his eyebrows.

Harvick jabbed a finger into the air. "Oh no! You can't pull this with me! You went right for that truck in Ward's garage!"

Darrell shrugged. "What? I like the new Dodge Ram!"

Crossing his arms over his chest, Harvick wagged his head. "You're trying to cheat me!"

"Nonsense! I want to run this race fair and square! Hey, if you want the Dodge, you can have it! And I'll take the Ford."

Harvick furrowed his brow. Glancing from one truck to the other, his eyes lit up. He stabbed another accusing finger in the other's direction. "Ah, now you're trying to trick me! You planned this! You knew I'd get suspicious, so you took the Dodge, so you could swap it for the Ford later!"

DW folded his arms over his chest. Pacing around the back of the Ford, he shook his head. "Boy, what do you take me for?"

DW stepped up to Harvick. The two stood toe-to-toe and nose-to-nose to one another.

Harvick rubbed his left eye. "I'm taking the Ford!"

Darrell shrugged. "Well fine!"

"Then I'm taking the Dodge!" Hands slapped to Harvick's sides.

"Okay then!"

"But what if I…"

"Boy, just pick a damn truck!"

Harvick stared DW in the eye. Then nodded. "I'll go with the Ford. The flag pole'll be our start/finish line. No warm-up lap. Just take your truck up to the pole beside mine. We count to three together, and we take off. I'll even give you the inside to start, give you a bit of an advantage, old timer."

"I don't need no special treatment!" DW scoffed. "You can have the inside!"

"I don't want the inside!"

Heaving a sigh, DW wagged his head. "I swear, boy, you can be a worse pain than chiggers! Got a quarter? We'll flip for it."

Harvick nodded. "Fair enough. Ward ought to have one in his truck."

Reaching over the seat of the Ford, Harvick opened the change holder. He ran his fingers through it. "He's only got nickels and pennies."

"Just grab a nickel." DW closed his eyes.

Harvick pinched the coin between his index finger and thumb. "Who's calling and who's tossing?"

DW scowled. "Why's it always so difficult with you? You can do both for all I care!"

Exhaling a puff of air, Harvick shrugged. "I'll toss, you call?"

"Fine with me!"

Nodding, Harvick flicked the coin. It shot into the night sky, flipping around itself.

"Call it in the air!" Harvick insisted.

"Tails!"

Harvick held out his hand, and the coin fell into his palm. He flipped it onto the back of his other hand. Narrowing his eyes, he studied the nickel.

"What is it?" DW asked, stepping forward.

Harvick slapped his free hand over the coin. Looking up, he made eye contact with DW. "It's tails. You start from the inside."

"All right!" Darrell clapped his hands together. "Boogity boogity boogity! Let's go racing!" He pivoted on his heels. As DW rounded the Dodge and jumped into the driver's seat, Harvick drew his hand away from the nickel. Smiling, he looked down at Thomas Jefferson.