487 Jade Lane

Chapter One: Against Better Judgment, We Pick Up a Questionable Hitchhiker.

Author's Note: Hi guys! I hope that everyone is having a good end to their school year. I will be posting at least three times a week (Tues/Thurs/Friday). Thank you for taking the time to read, and if you see anything you like, or have constructive criticism, please let me know. Thank you so much. XOXO

First P.O.V -Jesse

Salutations. My name is Jesse Holmes. I'm here to share about the horror story that is my life. It all began how it would when you're an unlucky seventeen year old guy on a date with his girlfriend. A guy, well, like me...

    A standard Friday night composed of a late rendition of a drive in movie with ragged flannel shirts. I had had my license for almost over a year, and my dad was finally granting me the grand "privilege" to drive his beat up, black, '67 Chevy Impala. No standard radio of this century, just cassette tapes with sharpie detailing the artists and albums on the side. But the beauty residing shotgun never minded, so it didn't take much to determine that it didn't matter.

    With straight caramel colored hair, violent and stunning green eyes, and an intoxicating mind, Victoria Ann Roberts was the envy of many. I'm not usually one to be cliché, but she's the love of my life. She's the Minnie to my Mickey, the Piglet to my Pooh, the Veronica to my JD, the Jennifer to my Marty McFly. There's no girl I'd rather have to call the shots with me. Or to argue with about stupid things which happens time to time.

    At the moment where my life took a turn for (well for lack of terms, just plain bad), we were sharing an argument about trivial things. Like how many movies are in the Jurassic Park series.  She swears on her future as a director that there are only two. How ignorant. Everyone knows that there's the original trilogy, plus the awesome reboot with Chris Pratt.  I was putting my input that we should wager five dollars for it, while expertly pulling a left turn down Sunset Avenue. I felt a glimmer of disappointment as we neared her house down the street, the seventh one down from the hill.

    We'd both cut work early, me from the local gym, she from the department store in the Glenfield Mall, a city over. We'd made sandwiches at her house (mine was turkey and Swiss with mayo, she had American cheese, ham, and tomato) and had paid a fare of ten dollars for front parking to see the 1985 adaptation of Clue. Yeah, a movie based off a board game. True, it was cheesier than cheese pizza, but there were quotable lines ("Are you trying to make me look like an idiot in front of the other guests?" "Don't need any help from me sir," "That's right!"). And being the movie nerd I was, I greatly appreciated every movement Tim Curry executed on the screen as the ruthless *spoiler* Mr. Boddy.  And yes, I did say I was a movie nerd. It is true. Ever since my eyes first laid eyes on the cinematic masterpiece you know as Star Wars, I fell in love with movies.

    "My curfew isn't for another three hours," Victoria remarked, taking me from my thoughts. She had a finger tracing the console between us, and she mussed her hair with her other hand. When I took a little longer to respond, she reached and turned down the dial, silencing the voices of my favorite band, The White Stripes playing their Seven Nation Army anthem.

    I blinked hard, as if trying to bludgeon something in my eye. I pulled into her driveway, and put the car in park. Then I turned to look at her. "But-"

    "Jesse, my parents won't be home until late tomorrow morning. You know I hate being alone at night. Besides, I'm hungry again,"

    "Again?" I asked incredulous. Hadn't popcorn and soda and candy been enough? She'd eaten more than half of my sour patch kids, which are my favorite. How could she still be hungry?

    "Yes again, I am a swimmer after all!"

"Uh I'm a swimmer too dummy and I'm not hungry, explain that,"