Disclaimer: I don't own Super 8, nor do I own anything related to it, except perhaps a ticket I bought to go see it.
This takes place in the Super 8 universe as it pertains to setting, people and events, but it is set along a timeline and storyline that I choose, and details are changed to fit and complement my story. Also, I only saw the movie once, so some characters may seem slightly OOC.
This is my first ever story, so bare with me…
It could be said that Joe Lamb was, most of the time, a happy, thriving boy. True, he still was dealing with the death of his mother (not that he'd ever stop dealing with it), but he still managed to live a mostly normal life, complete with school, the remains of a family and quirky friends. There was Preston, Cary, Charles and Martin, always ready to cheer him up when things got sober and depressing. They had uproariously fun times, even when Cary would accidentally blow up their lunch.
Thus, when Joe woke up to the excited voice of Charles, who was hovering over him, he wasn't angry but rather bemused and quite drowsy. Glancing over to his alarm clock and noticing that it was 7:30 in the morning, he tiredly rubbed his eyes and sat up. Charles continued to rant on.
"Dude, we have to get going on the film. The film festival is in a month, and we have a lot to do! We need to start filming, but first we have to find a wife for Martin, and then…" Charles urged, his voice becoming slightly louder and louder with each word.
Joe threw up his open hand in a 'stop everything' gesture, to which Charles surprisingly obeyed. He was about to attempt to placate Charles when he realized that he was clad only in boxers, and pulled the covers higher up his body self-consciously. "Charles, it's 7:30 in the morning on Saturday. This couldn't wait until like 10?" he asked, irritation evident in his voice.
Charles stood there for a moment, mulling over his thoughts, and then replied confidently, "Nope. We need to get started early."
Joe sighed heavily. Charles could be a real ball-buster, but he was a good friend and put up with Joe's antics, so he might as well return the favor. "Alright, alright, I'll do it. Just let me put clothes on, unless you want to see my willy," he conceded, motioning for Charles to give him some much-needed privacy.
Charles smirked and replied, "Well maybe I do." He lunged at Joe's sole protection from prying eyes, and might've succeeded in stripping him if it weren't for Charles' lack of physical fitness and overall poor athletic ability. Joe slapped his hand away, scowling.
"Stop being so gay, Charles," Joe warned him, sternly pointing towards the door. Charles strolled out, a satisfied grin on his face. He dressed quickly for fear of another attack from Charles, in a blue t-shirt with a red collar and black athletic shorts, and met up with Charles in the living room.
"Hey, I'm going to call the guys, and we're going to meet up at Mel's Diner for breakfast," he informed Joe. Joe shrugged, and after Charles completed all of his calls, they headed over to Mel's, a 10-minute walk. Everyone showed up, and they seated themselves in a booth in the corner.
"Hey, Charles, I have good news. I know you were looking for someone to play Martin's wife, but I already found someone. Alice Dainard said she'd do the part!" Preston said, eliciting a rather weak "Good job" from Charles. The waiter came around, and they placed their orders for breakfast.
"Listen, Preston, I need you to get Alice to drive us to the train-yard so we can start shooting. A train will be good production value," Charles told Preston, who nodded. "Alright, so everyone meet at Preston's house at 8:00. Bring all of the equipment you're in charge of." Everybody nodded to this, and after eating their breakfast, they separated, carrying on with their individual Saturday experiences. Joe walked out of the diner and headed home. His usual Saturday schedule involved sitting around doing almost nothing, which he followed to the period. After arriving home, he went back into his room, turned on the TV, and lie down on his bed watching cartoons for several hours. This would have continued if it weren't for a certain father hell-bent on ensuring his son wasn't a fat, lazy couch-turd
"Yo, Joe, you remember you have swim try-outs today right?" Jack Lamb asked, peering into the room.
"Yeah, Dad, I didn't forget. You got my swim trunks?" Joe fired back, not even bothering to glance up from the wacky program he was watching.
"Yeah, I have them buddy. You better hurry up and get dressed. It's…" he urged, glancing over to the clock, "one-thirty and try-outs are at 2:15. You don't want to be late, do you?"
Joe sighed heavily. It was his first time trying out for a swim team of any kind; the only reason he went was because the swim coach for his school's competitive swim team had noticed him swimming at the local public pool, and thought him a natural. She suggested he try out. "Nah, Dad, it's fine. Just give me the swim trunks already," he said. His dad disappeared for a few short moments, re-appeared and threw him a black bathing suit, then disappeared from view again. Joe was not the type to hurriedly do anything, but he figured he might as well get ready, so he lazily shucked off all his clothes, slipped on the bathing suit and threw on a tight, black shirt. His end of the deal completed, he lounged on the bed until his dad came in at 2:00 and they got in his old, battered truck.
The ride to school was a silent one, with neither party seeming to want to discuss anything whatsoever. Joe arrived at school and promised his dad to call immediately after try-outs were over. He located the pool quickly and found the locker room, where all of the candidates were undressing. It took a few moments, but then Joe realized that he forgot to come with extra clothes to change into after practice. Oh well, he figured, it's not too bad. Unbeknownst to him, his day was going to get a lot worse.
"Alright, kiddos, get dressed and get going. Warm-ups are in 5," Amanda Lyle, the swim coach, instructed. Then, in a softer voice, she muttered, "And get that kid the proper swimming attire," gesturing in Joe's direction, then departed from the locker room, presumably heading out to the pool.
"Hey, Joe, what's up?" Joe heard, and swiveled around to see Cary heading towards him, his chaotic mess of hair bound by a band.
Joe smiled. "Nothing much, man. Listen, what it that Ms. Lyle meant by that…?" he queried, looking embarrassed and confused.
"Oh, yeah, proper swim attire. We don't wear swim trunks for competition swimming. We wear Speedos," Cary said, pointing at his. Joe blinked, not having noticed everyone was in the tight swimwear. "It's okay, though, I think have another pair you can use," Cary said, rummaging through his bag. "Aha!" he shouted, holding up a rather small pair of black Speedos. He handed them to Joe.
"These are awfully revealing…you sure we have to wear them?" Joe asked, suddenly self-conscious.
"Yeah, don't worry, you get used to it. Besides, it's not like we all don't have one of them if you know what I mean," Cary said, smiling and elbowing Joe playfully. With all pretenses of caring gone and just wanting to get this over with, Joe took the offered pair of swim briefs and headed to a corner, where he quickly changed out. Before he went out, he checked himself in a mirror, and felt extremely nude in them. His full legs were on display, and the bulge of his manly parts could easily be seen. He sighed yet again and walked reluctantly over to Cary.
"How do I look?" he asked, fearing the worst.
"Fine, dude, nobody cares or is going to be staring at your package. Remember, we're all men here," Cary said, his tone soothing and placating. Joe grumbled and headed outside, to swim practice.