Transmission Z

Chapter One

I pulled the laces on my now-clean Chuck Taylors tight, checked my reflection to make sure that my hair hadn't gone flat, and jogged downstairs.

"Why are you all dressed up?" my younger sister, Hayley greeted me at the base of the stairs, hands on her hips.

"I'm not all that dressed up," I shrugged, glancing down at my various chain necklaces, my loose sweater, and black skirt.

"You traded your battered jeans for a skirt, and your Chucks have been cleaned up," Hayley narrowed her eyes at me, "Josie, who's the boy?"

"For the record, I'm not dressed up for the boy. Brandon's taking me to a Band Z concert, so all the bling and the clean Chucks are for the concert, not him."

"Brandon? The-dweeb-across-the-street-Brandon?"

"Yeah, the one and only."

"I thought that you 'didn't even like looking at him'?"

"That was before he bought me a ticket for a Band Z concert," I tapped Hayley's nose before sliding past her and trotting towards the door.

"Josie, you're awful!"

"How else was I going to get to go to a Band Z concert?"

"I wasn't talking about that," Hayley smirked, "I meant that you should have asked him to buy me a ticket too."

"I tried oh-so-hard, but he didn't like the idea of my little sister playing chaperone," I gripped the door knob, smiling, "I'll see you after the concert, Hayley."

"Bye Josie."

I jumped down the front steps, skipping the last one, which was a bad move on my part. I nearly faceplanted as Brandon pulled into the driveway, and I was just grateful that it was him picking me up rather than one of the attractive boys from school, like Lance Lemon or Patrick Pepper.

I stood up straight, swaying my hips a little as I walked towards the old green Pinto that had just started leaking oil in our driveway, telling myself that it was worth it just to make it to a Band Z concert.

"Hey-ya, Josie," Brandon's nose wrinkled as he smiled at me, causing his overly large-framed glasses to slide down his nose. He pushed them back up with his forefinger between the lenses, displaying all of the grace of a cow picking its nose with its tongue.

"Hi," I attemped a smile as I yanked open the passenger side door. I grimaced as I noticed something sticky on the left side of the seat. I carefully got in, making sure that my legs weren't even close to the sticky spot on the seat as I slammed the door shut.

"Excited for the concert?" Brandon asked, gripping the steering wheel at the bottom with his right hand. He slowly backed out, and it became obvious that the grip he had on the wheel was not sufficient for keeping the car in line. It kept swerving ever-so-slightly, which made me increasingly nervous as he pulled into the road. He momentarily held the wheel with his left hand as he shifted into drive, placing his right hand back in its place after the car started moving forward.

"Um, sure," I said, holding onto the handle on the door with a white-knuckle grip. His Pinto had begun swaying left and right in the lane, crossing the middle line on multiple occasions, as soon as it picked up speed. As we approached a stopped bus, I reallly started to second guess my decision to attend the concert with Brandon. It took him way to long to finally decided to press on the brakes, narrowly stopping before rear-ending the bus.

"Do you need someone else to drive?" I blurted out as he popped his fingers on his free hand.

"No, I'm fine," he shrugged my question off as if it were perfectly normal for him to be swerving all over the road and barely stopping before smashing into a bus. I decided that after that, I was either finding someone else to give me a ride, or walking the sixteen miles home.