Nace Appreciation Week | Day Five: Childhood/High School
Title: The Memory of the Hidden Photograph (AKA - Florence’s origin story)
Ace is in love with his new car. From the worn-in green upholstery to the classic wood panelling, she's a masterpiece in his eyes. Unfortunately, most of his peers at Horseshoe Bay High don't see her that way. All except one -- a certain redheaded teen sleuth with an antique car of her own.
Author Note: I love how Nancy and Ace's cars are an extension to their personalities, and I've often wondered what their origins stories might be like. How did they come to own these cars? And where did the name Florence come from? I thought it would be fun to explore some of these questions through the lens of Ace's first drive to school in his new car. I hope you enjoy (:
She was perfect in every way. There wasn’t a single part of Ace’s new car that he didn’t love, from the forest green upholstery to the shiny wood paneling that ran down her sides. Sure, maybe she was technically older than he was, but that only made her more classy in his eyes.
When his parents had taken him to the used car dealership over the weekend, the station wagon seemed to glow from across the lot, charming him with her unique personality. His dad had certainly liked the low price tag too, so it was a match made in heaven.
For as long as he could remember, Ace had dreamed of having his own car and the freedom to drive anywhere and never look back. It wasn’t that he actually wanted to leave Horseshoe Bay, but there was something about knowing it was now an option that was comforting to him.
Another perk of owning a car was not having to take the bus to school anymore. Ace hated taking the bus, and had since the second grade when he’d been pantsed by Tony Morano while trying to find a seat. Not only had his crush at the time seen the whole thing, but Tony and his terrible friends had also called him “tighty whitey” until middle school. Thankfully, once he hit 7th grade, they had moved on to torment another poor unfortunate soul.
The driver side door creaked open and Ace tossed his backpack over to the passenger seat as he slid in. It was a beautiful sunny morning, so he flipped down the visor to keep the sun from blinding him. Apparently, he had yet to do so since acquiring the car, because something tumbled from behind the visor and landed on his lap.
It was an old black and white polaroid. In the picture, a middle-aged woman sat atop the hood of what appeared to be the same station wagon Ace sat in, smiling brightly at the camera. Ace flipped the picture over to see if there was a date for when it had been taken, but all that he found was the name “Florence” etched in pencil.
Ace was excited to discover the little piece of the car’s history, and decided to tuck it in the glove box for safe keeping. Then he stuck the keys in the ignition and the wagon came to life with a thunderous roar.
It took less than 10 minutes to drive to Horseshoe Bay High School, and Ace went straight to the back of the parking lot when he got there, easing into the second-to-last spot in the row. It wasn’t that he was embarrassed of his car and wanted to hide in the back — it was the opposite in fact. Ace had seen how horrible some of his peers were at driving, and he was already so attached to his car that he didn’t want to risk her getting dinged on their first real outing together.
When Ace got out of his car however, it became pretty clear that he was just about the only one who thought his car was actually cool. The other students who drove to school in their Civics and Corollas snickered as they walked by.
He placed a hand affectionately on the hood, and spoke quietly to the car, “Don’t you listen to them, you hear me? They’ve got no taste.”
A pleasant, low rumble filled the parking lot as a little blue Sunbeam drove past Ace to pull into the spot next to him. He had been drooling over the car since the first day Nancy Drew had rolled up to school in it. The sky-blue paint seemed to jump off the car’s rounded edges, making it look cartoonish. The car was in pristine condition too, like it had come straight out of a time machine, and Ace suspected it was likely thanks to Nancy’s proclivity for also parking far away from their peers.
Ace was admiring the Sunbeam when Nancy stepped out. Next to the vibrant blue car, Nancy’s red hair looked like it was on fire. Ace didn’t know her very well, but they shared a class in first semester and she had been nice to him. Not to mention she was a certified genius. What kind of kid solves FBI-caliber mysteries at the age of 13? A kid like Nancy Drew, apparently.
“Hey! Ace, right?” Nancy asked while shouldering her messenger bag.
“Hi, yeah, we had Medieval Lit together last semester.”
“Oh god, right… I hated that class, but only because Mr. Mota’s voice would always make me sleepy” She said with a laugh.
“Yes! The way he read those Canterbury Tales was so soothing.” They both laughed again at the shared memory.
“New car?” Nancy asked, pointing toward the station wagon.
“New to me, at least. Drove her off the lot this weekend.”
Nancy walked over to stroke the wood panelling of the passenger side. “She’s got a lot of personality,” she said.
Ace liked the way she was looking at his car, like she genuinely appreciated her quirkiness. “I thought so too,” He agreed with a smile.
The sound of the bell rang across the lot, signalling students to begin heading to their homerooms. Nancy started walking in the direction of the school, and Ace made himself look busy by checking that all of his doors were locked. Oh the woes of manual locks.
Just as she was walking past him, she turned. “Does she have a name yet?” She asked, facing him as she walked backwards toward the school.
The question caught Ace by surprise, but he didn’t need to think too long before the memory of the polaroid came to mind. “I was thinking Florence.”
Nancy nodded slowly, mulling the name over in her head. “Florence,” She tried it out for herself before meeting his gaze with a warm smile. “It’s perfect.”
Then she turned toward the school and left Ace to watch the silky flames of her hair sway with the beat of her strides. He leaned back against the hood, placing his palms face-down on it to support himself.
With a smile, he looked down at his car. At Florence. “Did you hear that, Florence? Nancy Drew thinks you’re perfect.”
