Crash

Tires screeched and painted a dark line of burned rubber all the way up to the stoplight. The light remained red, even after the disaster, and the car ahead, luckily, had avoided moving up too far. Just back enough to narrowly miss the traffic coming from the left and right sides.

The teen in the car ahead slowly slid his way out of the car, while the twenty-something punk behind him stormed out of the car and up to the high school student and looked down or rather, eye level, with him like an angry cat looks at a dog.

The second he reached the teen's half smashed car he started cursing. The student, on the other hand, gave him an eerily calm, slightly irritated look. "Oh, I'm terribly sorry about that, was my car in the way? Well, I apologize for stopping at the red light and for letting you smash in the back of my parent's car. That's a lot of damage to yours as well I see; would you like me to fix it?" Apparently, the older kid didn't seem to catch the cynicism in his voice because he replied with an almost relieved air, "Yeah, it looks to be about five thousand worth in damages." He circled the front end of his car thoughtfully, happy at the assumption of the price he just made.

The student surveyed the car and replied, "Well, you may want to save your money for the ten thousand you'll owe me in car repairs." The punk, who in the meantime had grabbed a drink from inside his car, spit it up all over the street, "ten thousand? Why would I owe you that?"

"Because, you hit the back of my car, therefore, you caused the accident, which means you pay." The punk began to argue, "Yeah, but you stopped-"

"More than ten feet in front of you at a red light," he finished.