Status: I wrote this when I was in seventh grade. Look away.
Far From Home
WWIII Over Chocolate Milk.
“Aye! She’s awake! She isn’t dead!” A deep, accented voice shouted from the bottom of the stairs onto the bus. A large, tattoo covered, dark skinned guy in a jacket, jeans and a beanie hat pushed his way past the man in the grey jacket, dropping the grocery bags he was holding onto a table, and embraced me in a hug, lifting me off the ground.
“Let go!” I shouted, flailing my limbs around in panic. “Dylan, you’re going to injure the poor girl. Not that she isn’t injured already…,” Matt said. “Sorry about that,” Dylan said, setting me down again, “I’m just glad you’re okay. When we found you, we thought you were already dead, but we let you sleep it off. Speaking of which, what were you doing on the side of the road?”
“Woah, woah, woah!” the grey jacket man shouted, still standing at the top of the small set of stairs, “can someone please tell me who the hell this girl is, and why she looks like she just got punched in the face.”
I had forgotten about the bruise on my cheek.
Matt spoke up, “Oh yeah, you and George were asleep when we found her. I was sitting up front with the driver, and I saw her lying in the ditch beside the road. She looked pretty beat up, and she wasn’t half bad looking, so I told the driver to stop and Dylan, Jorel, Jordon, and I went out and fetched her.” He turned to me. “That’s Danny, by the way.”
“I see…,” Danny whispered in a tone so low, I barely heard it. He looked me up and down with a blank expression and I began to blush, suddenly feeling awkward being the only girl in a room full of guys. “Well, bringing a girl onto the bus wasn’t the smartest thing you guys have ever done, but it’s a pleasure meeting you,” Danny said, making his way over and shaking my hand. “Likewise,” I said, slightly baffled as to what was going on.
We were silent for a few moments, unsure of what to say. Finally Danny broke the silence. “So um… what’s your name?” I looked into his brown eyes, gleaming with a smile, and instantly felt that same connection that I had felt with Shaggy, like a brother I had just met. Like Damon.
“Jesslynn LaBelle, but my friends call me Jessie,” I said, trying not to grin. “That’s a very gorgeous name you have,” Dylan said, taking a seat on the couch next to Matt. Danny leaned against a wall dividing the living room space from the kitchen area.
“Where are George, Jordon, and Jorel?” Matt asked, fidgeting with his cell phone. Danny put a hand to his chin in thought. “Well, Jordon took off after some girls in town, Jorel wanted to look inside some music store, and I’m not quite sure where George went, but knowing him he probably went to get more booze. Meanwhile, Funny and I went to the store and restocked our normal food and drink supply.”
Matt stood and wandered in curiosity to where Dylan had dropped the grocery bags and peered around in the bags. As fast as lightning, he shoved his hand into a bag and produced a small bottle of chocolate milk. “Oh hell yes!” He shouted as if he had just struck gold. “Now,Matt, I KNOW you didn’t just steal one of my chocolate milks,” Dylan growled. “Well then you know nothing, because this milk is MINE, bitch,” Matt hissed back. Dylan rose, and within minutes they were yelling and hitting. Danny rested his face in one hand in a look of disappointment.
“Can’t we leave you three alone for an hour without World War III breaking out?!” a deep voice shouted. Everyone stopped what they were doing and looked at the doorway. Three men stood there, and I assumed they were the “George, Jorel, and Jordon,” Matt had mentioned earlier.
“This punk tried to steal my milk, everyone knows you don’t touch Funny Man’s milk,” Dylan said, one arm around Matt’s neck. “So you nearly kill the poor bastard?” the largest man asked. “Ya gotta do what ya gotta do,” Dylan muttered, releasing Matt from his necklock.
“I swear, sometimes I wonder why I continue to hang around you guys. Anyway, how’s that girl?” a man with gauges and a slight five o’ clock shadow asked. “She’s over here,” Danny said, reaching over and stroking my hair. I tensed, and bit my tongue to keep from freaking out.
The man walked over and held out his hand. “My names Jorel, or you can call me J-Dog. Whichever you prefer. Those guys over there are George and Jordon.” Jordon grunted and looked away, a cross expression on his face. Something about Jordon reminded me of a chipmunk, definitely his adorable soft cheeks and small lips. George was a rather large guy, with a voice to match, and nothing on but a jacket and jeans, and a sailor’s hat to top it all off.
“Who’s is she?” George asked, glancing around the room. Jorel gave him the “are you stupid?” look. “What do you mean ‘who’s is she?’ She isn’t a one night stand, George, we found this chick last night, curled up in a ditch looking half dead.”
“That would explain the bruise on her cheek. I kinda figured one of our guys had become abusive,” George shrugged. I couldn’t help but to laugh out loud, and everyone smiled at my laughter. Jorel's smile slowly faded and he sighed, pulling up a chair. “Everyone, have a seat, we have some discussing to do. We all know this girl can’t stay with us forever.”
“Let go!” I shouted, flailing my limbs around in panic. “Dylan, you’re going to injure the poor girl. Not that she isn’t injured already…,” Matt said. “Sorry about that,” Dylan said, setting me down again, “I’m just glad you’re okay. When we found you, we thought you were already dead, but we let you sleep it off. Speaking of which, what were you doing on the side of the road?”
“Woah, woah, woah!” the grey jacket man shouted, still standing at the top of the small set of stairs, “can someone please tell me who the hell this girl is, and why she looks like she just got punched in the face.”
I had forgotten about the bruise on my cheek.
Matt spoke up, “Oh yeah, you and George were asleep when we found her. I was sitting up front with the driver, and I saw her lying in the ditch beside the road. She looked pretty beat up, and she wasn’t half bad looking, so I told the driver to stop and Dylan, Jorel, Jordon, and I went out and fetched her.” He turned to me. “That’s Danny, by the way.”
“I see…,” Danny whispered in a tone so low, I barely heard it. He looked me up and down with a blank expression and I began to blush, suddenly feeling awkward being the only girl in a room full of guys. “Well, bringing a girl onto the bus wasn’t the smartest thing you guys have ever done, but it’s a pleasure meeting you,” Danny said, making his way over and shaking my hand. “Likewise,” I said, slightly baffled as to what was going on.
We were silent for a few moments, unsure of what to say. Finally Danny broke the silence. “So um… what’s your name?” I looked into his brown eyes, gleaming with a smile, and instantly felt that same connection that I had felt with Shaggy, like a brother I had just met. Like Damon.
“Jesslynn LaBelle, but my friends call me Jessie,” I said, trying not to grin. “That’s a very gorgeous name you have,” Dylan said, taking a seat on the couch next to Matt. Danny leaned against a wall dividing the living room space from the kitchen area.
“Where are George, Jordon, and Jorel?” Matt asked, fidgeting with his cell phone. Danny put a hand to his chin in thought. “Well, Jordon took off after some girls in town, Jorel wanted to look inside some music store, and I’m not quite sure where George went, but knowing him he probably went to get more booze. Meanwhile, Funny and I went to the store and restocked our normal food and drink supply.”
Matt stood and wandered in curiosity to where Dylan had dropped the grocery bags and peered around in the bags. As fast as lightning, he shoved his hand into a bag and produced a small bottle of chocolate milk. “Oh hell yes!” He shouted as if he had just struck gold. “Now,Matt, I KNOW you didn’t just steal one of my chocolate milks,” Dylan growled. “Well then you know nothing, because this milk is MINE, bitch,” Matt hissed back. Dylan rose, and within minutes they were yelling and hitting. Danny rested his face in one hand in a look of disappointment.
“Can’t we leave you three alone for an hour without World War III breaking out?!” a deep voice shouted. Everyone stopped what they were doing and looked at the doorway. Three men stood there, and I assumed they were the “George, Jorel, and Jordon,” Matt had mentioned earlier.
“This punk tried to steal my milk, everyone knows you don’t touch Funny Man’s milk,” Dylan said, one arm around Matt’s neck. “So you nearly kill the poor bastard?” the largest man asked. “Ya gotta do what ya gotta do,” Dylan muttered, releasing Matt from his necklock.
“I swear, sometimes I wonder why I continue to hang around you guys. Anyway, how’s that girl?” a man with gauges and a slight five o’ clock shadow asked. “She’s over here,” Danny said, reaching over and stroking my hair. I tensed, and bit my tongue to keep from freaking out.
The man walked over and held out his hand. “My names Jorel, or you can call me J-Dog. Whichever you prefer. Those guys over there are George and Jordon.” Jordon grunted and looked away, a cross expression on his face. Something about Jordon reminded me of a chipmunk, definitely his adorable soft cheeks and small lips. George was a rather large guy, with a voice to match, and nothing on but a jacket and jeans, and a sailor’s hat to top it all off.
“Who’s is she?” George asked, glancing around the room. Jorel gave him the “are you stupid?” look. “What do you mean ‘who’s is she?’ She isn’t a one night stand, George, we found this chick last night, curled up in a ditch looking half dead.”
“That would explain the bruise on her cheek. I kinda figured one of our guys had become abusive,” George shrugged. I couldn’t help but to laugh out loud, and everyone smiled at my laughter. Jorel's smile slowly faded and he sighed, pulling up a chair. “Everyone, have a seat, we have some discussing to do. We all know this girl can’t stay with us forever.”