I steal a Ferrari, and then remember just how much Simon loves weapons

I glanced at Simon. He was staring straight ahead.  I took one deep breath, looked at the looming, loud object in front of me, turned back, and said flatly, "No." Simon sighed once and looked at me pleadingly. "C'mon, Aspen! Oh, please, oh please, oh please!!!!" I'd never seen a fifteen-year-old boy sound so much like a toddler. I took a deep breath and then said, "No." Again. Simon's head fell backwards as he groaned.  "ASPEN. JUST. LOOK. AT IT." I looked. And looked. "Once again, no.""PLEASE!!!! ASPEN IT'S A FERRARI!!!!! TEENAGERS DON'T GET A CHANCE LIKE THIS!!!!" I stared at him. "Yeah, but then again you don't see teens running around stealing fancy cars left and right. Think about this for a sec, Simon. Think about how much attention it would draw to us." "Oh, c'mon!" he whined. "No." "Look at how shiny it is!" I glanced around. We were wasting time here. "No, Simon. Now, c'mon. We have to get out of here." "Then let's take the ferrari!" he offered. "Simon." I said, raising an eyebrow. "It makes a fast getaway car." he told me. I paused before my answer. "Fine. Get in the car." He punched the air with his fist. "YESS!!!!" "Shut up, Simon. You'll draw attention." He nodded vigorously and hopped in. "But I'm driving." I said. He sighed, caressing the interior. "All right." I slid into the driver's seat, enjoying the leather interior. I pursed my lips. I had to admit; this thing was AWESOME. Being fourteen and a fourteen-year-old "juvenile delinquent"(heavy on the quotation marks) and a runaway from this supposed "School of Enlightenment" where they "turn troubled teens in for the better". Yeah. Right. There was no way in the world that those creeps back at "The School of All that is Holy" were out there to help psychics like Simon and me. Or any other psychic out there. I mean, sure, there were these kinds of places all around the world. But for different... erm, what would you call it? Mutants. Yes, I suppose that would work. Or if we want to call it something different than the usual, you can call us Differences. Don't ask me why we call ourselves that, but we just do. And there's even a little group Differences can join called The Difference. Original, right? Yeah. Sure. ANYWAY. Teens like us are captured and sent to these supposedly "Good" and "Holy" schools. When really it should be more like "Hell On Earth" or "A Little Slice of What We're Gonna Get Since We Put You in These Places". Yeah. That works. Even at being fourteen, Simon and I both have had many driving lessons in the great ways of ESCAPE. Yeah. As we ripped out onto the highway, trying to get as far away from New York, New York before the morning traffic moved in, Simon leaned over and smiled at me. "So what got you first? How shiny it was? Or the purr of that engine?" "Actually, you had me at 'It makes a good get-away car'." He smiled at me, but our little chat was interrupted by the chink! of a bullet glancing off glass. "Damn." I muttered. "Just won't let us get any rest, will they?" Simon grumbled. "You remembered to weaponize this thing after you stole it, right?" I asked as I laid on the gas. Simon rolled his eyes. "You have no faith in me, Aspen. That hurts." "Good." I said through gritted teeth. He pressed a button on the dashboard, and it instantly slid upwards to reveal another dashboard filled with some pretty intense commands to throw around. I purse my lips as I read the options, also reading Simon's mind to see how good my driving skills were doing. Simon saw a car coming up real fast in front of us, so I slid around it, still looking for one of my favorites. "Aw, Simon! You didn't install the dart gun?" I scolded him. "Yes I did! It's right there!" he said, glancing down. Since I was still using his mind as my eyes, I had to look up, and fast. "Simon!" I yelped as I just barely managed to weave around a car.  "What the heck? Keep your eyes on the road!" "You're the one driving." he mumbled, but he had a smirk on his face. "Here it is! Just didn't label it, sorry." he smirked again. He went to press the button, but I smacked his hand away. "Just keep your eyes on the road. You can't aim this thing to save your life." I mumbled, and Simon just kept on smirking. I pressed the button while driving. Instantly, several other appliances slid out from nowhere. A joystick to aim the gun with, a mirror to show me where to aim, and a computer screen with cameras showing every inch of space around us available to shoot at. I took the joystick, saw the sight on the gun, aimed at the car chasing us, and pressed fire. I watched as the dart insert itself into a front tire. It instantly popped---I mean, balloon popped. I smiled as I shot another at the opposite back tire. The car began rolling awkwardly. They took out a gun. I cursed. Simon tried his hardest not to look away from the road. "Simon, can you take the wheel, please?" I asked. Simon nodded, and didn't move his gaze. The wheel began moving as if by itself, but I knew I was safe in the hands----erm, mind?----of Simon. I aimed the dart gun----which I forgot to mention: the darts on these things are about a half a foot long----and shot at the windshield. The dart imbedded itself in the windshield, close to the driver's face, I could imagine. Pleased, I turned around, grabbing the wheel again. But there's always good news and bad news. The good news was that we destroyed one of our enemy cars. The bad news? Well, let's just say that I hate New York traffic.