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MidReal Story
Ride or Die
Scenario:this story is in toronto ontario canada a story about bad boy and good girl fiction and fights and rumors and social media and forbidden love and confidence and popularity and lies and cheating and parties and alcohol and drug use and deals and high school and race and street race and drama and sex and adventure and nudity and bad boy and good girl story and my name is mohamed abdi and i am a 16 years old bad boy and my parents abdinur is a business man and he is 39 years old and my mother layla abdi is 37 years old and i have dark skinand muscular body and i wear a leather jacket and i am the popular king of this high school and everyone in this town loves and cares about street race and drag race and i am the best and i want to be a future nascar professional racer and i have many friends and i have been with many girls and i am self-assuredness and charm, making them seem magnetic and captivating and i tend to defy rules and social norms, which can be seen as rebellious and exciting and i exhibit narcissistic tendencies, such as a strong sense of self-importance and a need for attention and then this new girl just started in my highschool as a freshman and her name is monica hoang and she is 17 years old and she is innocent and a virgin and she has a boring boyfriend named brian thompson who studies and never goes to parties and i am a sophomore and this storys name is ride or die
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Mohamed Abdi
He is the 16yearold son of a wealthy businessman in Toronto, Canada. He is rebellious, charismatic, and selfassured. Mohamed is the popular high school king who loves racing and parties. He has a fascination with women and enjoys their attention. Despite his parents' efforts to guide him towards a more conventional path, Mohamed is drawn to the thrill of the fast lane, both on the track and in life, where he seeks to maintain his reputation as a fearless and skilled driver.
Abdinur Abdi
He is Mohamed's 39yearold father and a successful businessman. He is authoritative, disciplined, and expectant. Abdinur struggles to guide Mohamed onto the right path and expresses deep disappointment with his son's choices. He wants Mohamed to focus on his studies and secure a good future, but Mohamed's love for racing and partying creates tension between them. Abdinur's stern approach often leads to conflicts with Mohamed, highlighting the generational and parental expectations that clash with Mohamed's desire for freedom and excitement.
Layla Abdi
She is Mohamed's 37yearold mother and a devoted single parent. She is nurturing, caring, and protective. Layla works hard to balance her career and raise Mohamed alone after her husband abandoned them. She tries to steer Mohamed towards a more stable future but struggles to keep him out of trouble. Despite her efforts, she often finds herself cleaning up after Mohamed's reckless behavior. Her deep bond with Mohamed is evident as she navigates the challenges of being a single parent while maintaining her professional life.
This story is in Toronto, Ontario, Canada.
I am a 16-year-old bad boy.
My name is Mohamed Abdi.
I am the popular king of this high school.
Everyone in this town loves and cares about street racing and drag racing.
I am the best of them all.
I want to be a future NASCAR professional racer.
I have many friends, and I have been with many girls.
I am self-assured, charming, and magnetic, making them seem captivating.
I tend to defy rules and social norms, which can be seen as rebellious and exciting.
I exhibit narcissistic tendencies such as a strong sense of self-importance and a need for attention.
I know my parents want me to be with a good girl who will help me settle down and have a better future, but I don't listen to them.
Instead, I just smile at them and tell them not to worry about me because everything is under control.
But the truth is, I don't want to listen to them because I know what I want and what I need exactly.
I want to live life on my own terms.
At school, I see Monica Hoang and her boyfriend Brian.
They are talking to each other.
My friends and I are watching them from our usual spot in the corner of the hallway.
Brian is a good guy, but he is also very protective of Monica.
He always makes sure she is safe and not talking to any bad guys or boys who have a bad reputation like me.
He keeps her away from our group of friends, which is why I never got a chance to talk to her before.
I decide to go and talk to them.
I want to know if she is as innocent as everyone says she is.
I walk over to them, and Brian sees me coming.
He looks at me with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion.
When I reach them, I smile and say, "Hi, my name is Mohamed Abdi. I am a junior here at school."
Monica blushes and looks down at her feet.
Brian steps in front of her and says, "I'm Brian. Nice to meet you."
I extend my hand for a handshake, but Brian just looks at it and says, "What do you want?"
I smirk and say, "Oh, I just wanted to introduce myself. I've seen you around school before, but we've never talked."
Brian eyes me warily and says, "Well, now you've met us. So what do you want?"
I chuckle and say, "Nothing much. Just thought I'd say hi." Brian nods and says, "Okay. Well, we have class now. See you later."
He grabs Monica's hand and starts walking away.
I call out after him, "Hey, Brian!"
He turns around and says, "What?"
I smile and say, "You should bring your girlfriend to our next street race. It's going to be fun."
Brian narrows his eyes at me and says, "Stay away from my girlfriend."
I laugh and say, "Or what? You'll beat me up?"
Brian takes a step towards me and says, "If I have to."
I hold up my hands in surrender and say, "Okay, okay. I'll leave her alone."
Brian turns around and walks away again.
This time, I don't stop him.
Monica suddenly speaks up, her voice steady, "Actually, Brian, I want to go to the race."
Brian looks at her, surprised, "Monica, are you serious?"
She nods, meeting his gaze with determination, "Yes, I am. I want to see what all the fuss is about."
Brian's eyes dart between her and me, clearly unsure of what to say.
I lean against my locker, watching them with interest.
Monica and Brian start arguing in hushed voices, their conversation becoming more heated by the second.
Monica gestures animatedly with her hands while Brian shakes his head, gripping his textbooks tighter.
Their discussion attracts curious glances from passing students.
Finally, Brian throws up his hands in defeat.
Monica bounces excitedly and hugs him, but he remains stiff.
They walk towards me, Brian's face twisted with obvious distaste.
"Fine, we'll come to your race," he says through gritted teeth, "but I'm not letting her out of my sight."
I arrive at the street race location.
My car is a black sports car with neon green stripes, and it's the envy of all the other racers.
The crowd cheers as I pull up, and I see my friends already there with their cars.
They're revving their engines and doing donuts in the empty parking lot.
I park my car and get out, looking around for Monica and Brian.
I see them walking towards me, looking a bit out of place among the rowdy crowd of high school students from Toronto.
Brian looks like he'd rather be anywhere else, but Monica has a look of curiosity on her face.
As they approach me, I can see that Brian has a tight grip on Monica's arm.
He looks like he's trying to keep her close to him, but she seems more interested in checking out the scene than paying attention to him. "Hey," I say as they reach me.
"Ready for the race?"
Monica nods enthusiastically, while Brian just grunts in response.
I smile at her and say, "Great. Let's go take a look at the competition."
I lead them over to where the other racers are gathered, revving their engines and showing off their cars.
Monica looks impressed by all the fancy vehicles on display, but Brian just rolls his eyes and mutters something under his breath about how stupid street racing is. As we walk around, I point out some of the different cars and tell Monica a little bit about each one.
She listens intently, asking questions whenever she doesn't understand something.
Brian just stands there looking bored, occasionally glancing at his phone or checking his watch.
After a few minutes of walking around, I see someone I recognize across the parking lot.
It's another racer who has been challenging me to a race for weeks now.
He's got a red sports car with black stripes, and he thinks it's faster than mine.
I call out to him and challenge him to a race right then and there.
He agrees eagerly, so we head over to our cars and get ready to go. As we prepare to race, I notice Monica watching us intently from the sidelines.
Her eyes are wide with excitement as she watches us rev our engines and put on our seatbelts.
Monica turns to Brian and says, "I never realized how thrilling this could be."
Brian frowns and replies, "It's dangerous, Monica. This isn't a game."
She looks back at the cars and murmurs, almost to herself, "Maybe that's what makes it so exciting."
I slide into my driver's seat and adjust my leather jacket.
I check my mirrors and buckle my seatbelt, then glance over at the other driver.
He gives me a smug smile and a thumbs up, but I just ignore him.
The crowd forms a tight circle around our cars, their phones held high to record the race.
Monica stands at the front, her eyes wide with excitement.
Brian pulls at her arm, trying to get her to step back, but she resists.
The other driver revs his engine, the sound echoing off the walls of the warehouse.
I grip my steering wheel tightly, feeling the familiar texture of worn leather under my palms.
The organizer steps between our cars, holding up his hands for silence.
The crowd quiets down immediately, waiting for the signal to start. I press my foot against the gas pedal, feeling the tension build in my muscles as I wait for the green light.
The organizer raises his arms higher, then drops them down quickly.
The crowd erupts into cheers as we speed forward, our tires screeching on the pavement.
I feel the rush of adrenaline coursing through my veins as I push my car to its limits.
The warehouse walls blur past me in a colorful haze as I focus on the finish line ahead.
I downshift hard into the final turn, feeling my engine roar as I pull ahead of the red car.
The sound of squealing tires echoes off the walls as I execute a perfect drift, my back end swinging out in a wide arc.
The other driver tries to follow my lead, but his car wobbles precariously before he regains control.
I cross the finish line first, slamming on my brakes and spinning my car around to face the crowd.
The other driver pulls up next to me, his face twisted with frustration.
"Good race," he says gruffly, "but I'll be back."
I just smile and nod, knowing that he won't be able to beat me anytime soon.
I get out of my car and walk over to Monica and Brian.
Monica looks at me with wide eyes, while Brian has a scowl on his face.
"That was amazing," Monica says breathlessly, "you're so talented."
I grin and say, "Thanks. Now it's time to collect my winnings."
I turn to the other driver and hold out my hand expectantly.
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a wad of cash, counting out six hundred dollars into my palm.
"Your money," I say with a smirk.
He glares at me but doesn't say anything else. My friends gather around me, congratulating me on my win.
Monica watches us from the sidelines, still looking a bit awestruck by what she just saw.
Brian grabs her arm and tries to pull her away, but she resists.
"Let's go home," he says firmly, "this isn't our scene."
But Monica shakes her head and says, "No way. I want to stay here and watch some more races."
Brian sighs and says, "Fine. But don't wander off without me."
Monica turns to me, her eyes bright with excitement, "Do you think I could try racing one day?"
Brian's face pales as he interjects, "Monica, that's crazy. It's too dangerous."
She looks at him defiantly and replies, "Maybe, but I want to feel that rush for myself."
I lean against the hood of my car, watching Monica's eyes light up as I dangle my keys in front of her.
She reaches out hesitantly, her fingers brushing against mine as she takes them from me.
Brian grabs her arm, his grip tight with worry.
"Monica, what are you doing? This is stupid."
She yanks her arm free, stepping closer to me.
Her voice is firm as she says, "I'm not going to let you talk me out of this."
I watch as she slides into the driver's seat, her hands trembling slightly as she starts the engine.
She pulls away slowly, leaving Brian and me standing alone in the parking lot.
The race lasts 20 minutes, and I see Monica's car cross the finish line last.
My heart sinks as I realize she just lost my favorite black sports car with neon stripes.
I walk over to her, my fists clenched tightly at my sides.
Monica gets out of the car, her eyes filled with tears as she sees me approaching.
"Mohamed, I'm so sorry for losing your car," she says, her voice shaking with regret.
I stare at her for a moment before turning away, unable to bear the sight of her anymore.
I lean against the brick wall outside the school, explaining to Jace how Monica lost my car.
He listens intently, the keys to his '69 Mustang dangling from his finger.
"You sure about this?" he asks, studying my face.
I nod, describing the upcoming race at Port Lands.
Winner takes the loser's car.
The entry fee is $600, exactly what I won last week.
Jace hesitates for a moment before tossing me his keys.
"Don't scratch it," he warns.
I catch them one-handed and slide into the driver's seat.
As I start the engine, I glance through the school windows and see Monica watching us.
I grip the steering wheel tightly, my knuckles turning white as I pull out of the parking lot.
The V8 engine rumbles beneath me, its power familiar yet different from my lost car.
I glance back through the window and see Monica's face pressed against the glass, still watching.
I force myself to look away, focusing on the road ahead.
The late afternoon sun glints off the hood of Jace's Mustang as I weave through Toronto traffic.
At each red light, I rev the engine, testing its response and memorizing how it handles.
The $600 entry fee weighs heavy in my jacket pocket.
As I pull up to the starting line, Monica suddenly appears beside me, breathless.
"Please, Mohamed, let me make it right," she pleads, her voice barely audible over the roar of engines.
I shake my head, keeping my eyes forward. "This one's on me now, Monica. Just stay safe."
I settle into the driver's seat, my car lined up with five others at the starting line.
The cars surrounding me are all sleek and powerful, their paint jobs gleaming under the streetlights.
The air is thick with the smell of burning rubber and gasoline.
To my left is a red Dodge Charger, its engine roaring loudly as the driver revs it in a show of power.
On my right is a black Nissan GT-R, its exhaust notes deep and menacing.
In front of me, a blue Honda Civic Type R sits low to the ground, its spoiler glinting in the light.
Behind me is a silver BMW M4, its engine purring smoothly as it waits for the green light.
And beside me, in her black sports car with neon stripes, is Monica.
I glance in my side mirror and see Brian pulling her away from the track, her face twisted with worry.
The race organizer steps forward, holding up a flashlight to get our attention.
He shouts something over the roar of engines, but I can't make out what he's saying. I grip the leather steering wheel tightly, testing the clutch on Jace's Mustang.
It feels different from my own car, but I'm determined to win back what's mine.
The first driver revs his engine loudly, challenging the others to do the same.
My foot hits the clutch as the flashlight falls, and I feel the Mustang lurch forward with raw power.
The GT-R takes an early lead, its tires screeching as it speeds away from the starting line.
I fight to keep the Mustang straight, feeling the weight of its engine pulling me to one side.
The steering is heavier than I'm used to, and I struggle to turn smoothly.
As we reach the first stretch, I feel the car begin to settle into a rhythm.
The speedometer climbs higher and higher until we're hurtling down the road at over 100 km/h.
The GT-R is still in the lead, but I can see it out of my windshield now.
I shift into third gear, feeling the car surge forward as I push it harder.
We approach the first turn, a sharp right-hand corner that will test my skills behind the wheel.
I take a deep breath and focus on the road ahead, feeling the Mustang's tires grip the pavement as we turn. The steering wheel vibrates in my hands, and I fight to keep us on course.
The car feels heavy and unwieldy, but I know it has the power to make up for it.
As we exit the turn, I glance in my rearview mirror and see the Honda Civic closing in behind me.
Its engine is revving loudly, and I can tell it's faster than me on this stretch.
I push down hard on the accelerator, feeling the Mustang surge forward once again.
The speedometer climbs higher and higher until we're racing along at over 120 km/h.
The Honda is still behind me, but it's not gaining ground anymore.
I shift into fourth gear and feel the car settle into a steady pace.
We're flying down the road now, passing slower cars as we go.
I keep my eyes fixed on the GT-R ahead of me, determined to catch up. The Honda Civic darts past me on my inside as I clip the curb going into the first corner.
I wrestle with Jace's Mustang, struggling to keep its heavier steering under control as we thunder down the first stretch of asphalt.
The GT-R takes an early lead with its superior all-wheel drive system, while I fight to stay in second place against a field of sleeker cars.
Through trial and error, I gradually find a rhythm with Jace's Mustang as we race down the straightaway, working through its gears more smoothly with each passing second.
The finish line looms ahead, and with one final push, I unleash everything the Mustang has left.
I cross the finish line first, my heart pounding in my chest as Jace's Mustang finally responds perfectly to my control.
The other racers pull up beside me, their engines cooling down in the night air.
The GT-R driver steps out of his car, his face tight with anger as he approaches my window.
Two other racers join him, forming a semi-circle around me.
"Looks like you won," the GT-R driver says, his voice low and menacing.
"But we don't have to let you keep it."
He glances at the others, who nod in agreement.
"You've got a choice," he continues.
"You can either give us your car, or you can give us cash."
I hesitate for a moment, weighing my options.
But then I remember why I'm here in the first place.
"I want my old car back," I say, looking him straight in the eye. The GT-R driver frowns, clearly not expecting that answer.
But he nods slowly and pulls out a set of keys from his pocket.
He hands them to me through the window, and I take them without hesitation.
As soon as I step out of Jace's Mustang, he spots the small dent on the rear quarter panel.
His frown deepens as he examines it more closely.
I quickly pull out the $600 from my pocket and hand it to him without a word.
The GT-R driver looks at the cash, then back at me.
"You really think this is enough for what you pulled tonight?" he asks, his voice laced with disbelief.
Monica steps forward from the shadows, her eyes locked on mine. "It’s not just about the money, it’s about making things right," she says firmly, her gaze unwavering.
I stand in the dimly lit parking lot, the keys to my black sports car finally back in my hand.
The GT-R driver and his crew linger nearby, their hostile stares burning into my back as they confer among themselves.
Monica steps closer, her voice trembling slightly as she speaks.
"I know you're angry, but I want to make things right," she says, her eyes pleading.
"Let's work together to restore your car's reputation."
I look at her for a moment, then turn my attention to my car.
It's still covered in road grime from the race, with fresh scratches and dents marring its once pristine paint job.
The neon stripes that run along its side are dulled by the dirt.
I run my hand over the hood, feeling the rough texture of the grime beneath my fingertips.
"It's not just about the car," I say finally, turning back to Monica.
"It's about trust. And right now, I don't know if I can trust you."
Monica nods slowly, her eyes never leaving mine.
"I understand," she says softly.
"But I want to prove myself to you. Let me help you clean up your car. We can work together to make it shine again." I consider her words for a moment, then nod curtly.
"Fine," I say.
"But if you mess up again, there will be consequences."
Monica smiles tentatively, relief evident on her face.
"Thank you," she says gratefully.
I walk over to my trunk and pop it open, revealing a stash of cleaning supplies inside.
I pull out a microfiber cloth and toss it to Monica before grabbing another one for myself.
We both get to work wiping down the hood of the car, working our way around its sleek curves as we go.
The grime comes off easily under our touch, revealing the glossy paint job beneath.
As we work, Monica talks nervously about her racing experience and how she got involved with the GT-R driver's crew.