The parking lot of the strip mall was abandoned at this time of night, the floodlights overhead spilling out oversaturated blue light. He’d put this off for weeks now, trying to find a way to convince Bas that no, drifting wasn’t that cool, it wasn’t even that fun, but he’d had no luck. In truth, it just tore the shit out of components of his car, and Bas’ car would be too hard to learn in. He’d taught himself with YouTube videos in parking lots like this, changing the burned rubber in the rain and sleet for another clean turn around the track. Now, the lot a makeshift track with stolen traffic cones set up in a loop, Maks grit his teeth against the cold as he eyed his friend in the driver’s seat of his car, windows rolled down and nearly bald tires on the rear. He dragged the toe of his boot against the pavement, half slick with melted snow. Sliding into the passenger side, he nodded at the track. “Hit the turn. Brake to shift weight and flick into the corner—hard, but you don’t want to spin. That’ll get the drift going. Come off the brake when you’re in the turn, and slam the throttle. Play with the wheel to keep it clean, and come out of the drift. Rotate back and release the gas. Should grip up again.” He tapped one hand on the dashboard before reaching down to turn up the stereo (a six CD masterpiece, he refused to be embarrassed about burning his music). “Probably won’t get it on your first go. You ready?”