This story's for one of my bestest newsie friends out there. Jamie! Love you darling:D I own...Jorja...but Rylet, Blake, and Mack all belong to her. Yes, this is a newsie story...it's just...OC/OC...don't like it? Does it look like I care:P Don't forget to review y'all!

Here In Hicktown

Rylet stood staring in disbelief as the bus pulled away, leaving a trail of dust in its wake. As the dust cleared, his jaw dropped even further. Greenville, Alabama was exactly as his friends had warned him it would be. Main Street, the only street, was made of cracked and faded asphalt, and you could barely see the painted lines supposed to separate the lanes. The weathered store fronts all needed fresh coats of paint and a good dusting. Dogs raced by after a cat with cans tied to its tail followed by several red headed kids. In front of the local barber shop, two gruff old men leaned back on the back legs of their chairs, feet propped on the railing. White beards flowing over their impressive beer bellies, they took careful aim at a bronze spittoon sitting between them and spat long steams of chewing tobacco towards the opening. Brown spittle splattered the smooth sides and the floor around the container, giving away that most of the shots never made their target. Across the road at the beauty salon, gossiping old crones pointed long thin fingers at him and whispered their reasons for why the strange city boy was in their town.

It was clear to him now. God truly hated him. Why else would his dad send him to visit cousins he barely knew? Well, yes, granted his father wanted him out of the house, but that's beside the point. He was still standing in the middle of a dusty patch of ground watching his only escape from hickville hell roll away. The summer after graduation was supposed to be fun and exciting! But, here he was, stuck working for his uncle all summer. According to his city friends, his cousins were probably dumb as stones and hill billies to boot. They probably were rough and tough, bucktoothed, dirty, and always smoking a corn cob pipe or chewing tobacco. Yeah, he really wanted to get to know some dumb back woods relatives.

The rumble and backfire of an old radiator broke into Rylet's grumblings, announcing the arrival of a rusty black Ford pick up. Behind the wheel sat a broad shouldered young man with short dark blonde hair and intense blue-gray eyes. On the passenger side sat a younger boy who could easily be placed as the other boy's brother. He had short blonde hair that stood up wildly in places because of several rebellious cowlicks. His hazel eyes sparkled with mischief, matching the smirk on his lips as he waved to a friend on the street. Between them proudly sat a gray and white mutt. His pink tongue hung happily out the side of his mouth, looking extremely pleased about getting to sit in the cab of the truck.

"Hicks enter stage left." Ry's lips curved up in a sarcastic smirk before reaching down to grab his duffle bags. He'd only met his cousins twice, and they hadn't really hung out long enough to hit it off. Basically, all he knew about these two were they both worked on their father's dairy farm and they both loved girls.

"Hey city slicker," Blake Johnson, the oldest, hopped out of the truck and walked over smirking at his cousin, "welcome to the country."

Rylet laughed and took Blake's offered hand. "Thanks, country hick, but I can't really say I'm glad to be here."

"That's okay, cousin." The younger brother walked around to them. "Even those who live here want to get out." Mack Johnson shrugged his shoulders and grinned. He was tall enough to almost look Ry in the eye, and he made every inch count.
"I wonder why…" Rylet glanced around the broken down town, letting his sarcasm hang in the air.
The boys just laughed and tossed his bags in the bed of the truck. "It ain't that bad. We got some of the prettiest girls in the state right here in this dumpy ole town." Mack chased the mutt to the back of the truck and scrambled in to take his spot in the middle seat.
"Really? Hickville has pretty girls?" Ry teased as he and Blake climbed into the cab and slammed their doors.

"Course there are! Why else would we hang around here longer then we have to? But, we'll have to teach you the rules about our country gals..." Blake turned the clunker truck around and headed out of town.

"Rules about girls? That's a good one, Blake…" Rylet gave a sharp laugh but it quickly died on his lips when the other two didn't join in. "You're really serious?"
"Yeah, it's a big deal how you treat a girl round here. One wrong move or word and most of them will put you in the hospital without a second thought."

"Dang…" Ry sighed. Why did everything in life always have to be so complicated?

Jorja threw the bale of hay onto the back of her grandfather's pick up truck. Straightening, she braced her hands against her lower back and leaned backwards, a groan escaping her lips. Sweat glistened on her forehead and soaked through the back of her green tank top. She'd been out in the fields since five this morning with only a short break at noon for the lunch her grandmother packed for her. Glancing at the slowly moving sun, she wiped her brow and sighed. She had at least two more hours till quitting time. Canteen in hand, Jo plopped down on a finished bale and drank deeply.

This job just wasn't any fun without him. Taking a swig from her canteen, her eyes fluttered closed as a cool breeze caressed her skin. She missed their conversations, his stupid jokes that always made her laugh, their loud off key singing to the radio, his attempts to stuff hay down her shirt. She missed sitting on the hood of the truck after their work was done and watching the sun go down behind the skyline. She missed afternoons of sitting in the loft just talking or reading together. She missed his warm arms around her when she was upset or needed his strength. Tears stung her eyes as the memories raced through her mind. But, Frankie wasn't here anymore.

Last year, he'd enlisted in the US Marines to fight for his home and country in Iraq. Though he called every other night and a letter arrived in the mail every few days, it didn't take away the pain. Her heart missed him more with every passing day he was gone. She just wanted her brother back home. She wanted to have her best friend with her again. She wanted to go cow tipping and mudding. She wanted to go to a honky tonk and dance till they were tired and could barely move. She wanted him back. Every night, she fell asleep praying that God would bring him back to her in one piece. Every minute of every day, she thought of him. No one knew her better then he did. Everyone knew she loved her brother, but it was more then that. She adored him.

The echo of a gunshot broke through her thoughts, reminding her that hay still waited to be baled and loaded. With a tired groan, she stood and tossed her canteen into the cab of the truck and pulled her gloves back on. Grunting with effort, Jo hefted another bale into the truck bed. Two more hours then she'd be done for the day. She could make it that long. Frankie always could, and she wouldn't make him sorry for leaving her in charge. She would make him proud of her.