The Orange Porsche

I knew as soon as I saw it that it was mine. There were no delusions for me, not even for a second.

"Don't you love it?" Mother asked.

"Serviceable," Father said.

As for me? My heart dropped out of my chest and rolled across the pavement to settle under the wheels of my brand new car.

"It's... mine?" I hesitated, not ready to claim association with the monstrosity taking over our three car garage. My parent's matching Volvo's cowered beside my machine.

"All yours!" Father boasted. "From the lug nuts to the steering wheel." He guffawed, a great big belly laugh spilling out to fill the stricken silence. He winked in what I guessed was supposed to be a conspiratorial way, "Don't be surprised at girls falling all over this one!"

Yeah, I thought. Falling over with laughter.

"Well," said my beaming Mother, "we'll let you two get accquainted. Hiram, give our son the keys."

I held out my hands for the keys mechanically and felt them drop with a solid thunk. Much like my popularity once I drove to school Monday morning.

"You'll look like a winner in that, son!"

I'll look like a four wheeled billboard for Sunkist.

After a moment I heard my parents retreat and with a great sigh I took a few steps towards my car.

Ugh. My car. Most sixteen year olds would be delighted with a new car. But this... this was social suicide. I surveyed the make carefully. In most ways it was a drool-inducing standard Porsche. But in all the ways that mattered it was horrendous. The paint was not only a neon bright orange, it had a superimposed pattern of an orangel peel from fender to bumper. Even the headlights were made to look like cheerful fruits.
Herbie, eat your heart out.

The next moment I crossed the garage and reached for the door handle. Geez, the car was even pitted like an orange peel! I could just see my girl Megan's face when I stopped by her house to pick her up for school. I'd be lucky if she stopped short of dumping me!

I ran my hand over the driver's seat. The interior was baby soft leather that helped me momentarily forget the color. I slid behind the wheel to take a closer look. The sound system was fully equipped, and even I, who knew very little about electronics, could tell that this car was made to cruise. I started to grin, just a little.

Suddenly I squared my shoulders and hit the button for the garage door opener. What the hell. If I was going down, I was going down with confidence. I fished my cell phone out of my jeans as I turned the ignition.

Ring. Ring. Ri-

"Hello? Hey Megan. Meet me outside... have I got a surprise for you..."

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First off, this is probably the first story since Gunshot Harmony that has a male protaganist.
And secondly, this post is part of a writing exercise my friend Emily recommended to me. You pick a picture (I entered 'orange' on deviantart and chose the 43rd photo) and write a quick short story about it. I have to admit a little dismay at the picture I was dealt but then this tale seemed to spill out of me... so I suppose I'm pretty happy with it. :-) I challenge all my writer-readers to try something similar!
I know it's a little rough but I have presented it to you unedited. :p Critique or comment away!

'Quel