AN:
This first chapter might be a little slow, but the good part's coming, I promise. I require reviews to continue the story, because if I don't know that someone is actively reading it, I'll get bored and the story will DIE, and none of you want that, right?
I don't own the WWE or anything affiliated with it. I do own Jessie, though. Many of the people you read about in here are based off of real people, so they own themselves.
I sat on the couch in my youth minister's office staring at the floor. I knew interrogation time was coming, but I'd been mentally preparing myself for the past few days. Actually, I felt dead inside and that helped a whole lot, but that'll be explained later in my rather unusual story.
"Well, now that we've got you back where you belong," Andrew, the youth minister said after we had been sitting in silence for what seemed like hours. "Do you mind telling me EXACTLY what's been going on the past few months?" I shrugged.
"Guess there's no harm in it now," I said. "Do you want the story from the beginning, or the concise version?"
"The beginning, please." I let out a sigh.
"I'd really rather the concise."
"What you'd rather really doesn't matter, considering everything right now. From the beginning." I let out another long sigh.
"Fine, I guess it all started with the accident…"
4 months earlier…
"Can we have Jessica Long up to the front office?" I was sitting in band class with my trumpet on my lap. I looked up at Mr. Naquin (pronounced NA-kan), the band director, excitedly. We were rehearsing for the spring concert, which is possibly the most boring undertaking I have ever undertook. He cocked an eyebrow at me and gave his trademark glare.
"Make it snappy, we're rehearsing," he said.
"You got it, Doc Naq (pronounced knock)," I said before grabbing the hall pass and rushing off to the front office. There were police cars parked outside the office, but they didn't bother me. I was a good kid; I never did ANYTHING that would get me in ANY kind of trouble. I opened one of the double doors and walked up to the front desk. "You wanted to see me?" I asked.
"Are you Jessica Long?" one of the policemen asked. I didn't notice them before, but there were two of them standing behind me, with my principal, Mrs. McCollum. I gulped.
"Yessir, I am." Mrs. McCollum put a hand on my shoulder. I didn't like her much so it freaked me out on major levels.
"We have some bad news, dear," she said. Now, to completely understand how terrified I was, you have to understand Mrs. McCollum. She's one of those strange people who literally goes out of her way to act happy all the time. She's the only person I know who can make our football team's 7 game losing streak sound like the best thing since sliced bread, and STILL come off as someone who is completely unhappy with their lot in life. So for her to call ANYTHING bad is a cause for concern.
"It can't be THAT bad," I said, being my normal, positive self. "I'm a good kid, whatever it is, I didn't do it."
"It's nothing YOU did, dear," she said. I remember getting a little annoyed with all the dear's she was giving me.
"Your parents were driving together today when a drunk driver hit them," one of the policemen said. I was still confused.
"Well, gosh, are they alright? What hospital are they in? Can I go see them?"
"They didn't survive the crash, dear," Mrs. McCollum said gently.
Present
"That's how you found out?" Andrew asked in unbelief. "They just took you out of class and straight up told you your parents were…" he hesitated, trying to find the right words
"Dead?" I asked. "See, this is exactly why I left, I couldn't take everyone's pity." He shot me a look.
"Finish the story."
"Fine," I grumbled. "The next few weeks were really a blur. Mr. Donald and Mrs. Donna took me in, as I'm sure you know."
"I DO go to the same church as them," he agreed.
"Well, one day, I just kinda woke up and realized what had exactly happened. I didn't talk for a while, as I'm sure you know."
"I AM your youth minister," he agreed.
"And not 4 days after I had realized the… enormity of the situation at hand, summer vacation was upon me. I couldn't do summer vacation. School was keeping my mind busy. Just laying around all summer with nothing to distract me woulda killed me. So, I decided one day to pack up my stuff and go on a road trip. I'd be back before summer ended, I left a note telling everyone that. Apparently, promises from an obviously depressed 16 year old don't mean much anymore. Everyone hunted for me, but I spent a week walking to Mississippi and hopped on a train to New York City. Not the brightest idea I'd had in a while, but it seemed like a good place to get lost in. My parents had left almost 100 grand to my name, so I was good in the cash department. What I DIDN'T count on was literally getting lost in New York City. I wandered around for days, not feeling like eating or doing anything but wander. About the fourth night, it was raining really hard, and it was a cold night. I remember stumbling into an alley and collapsing. I was exhausted from lack of food and sleep, and I decided that THIS was as good a place as any to just take a quick nap. I couldn't have been more right."
(3rd Person)
Randy Orton sat in the passenger seat of John Cena's Mustang. He stared absently out the window, lost in thought.
"It's gonna be weird without her," John mused.
"I thought we agreed to not talk about it," Randy growled without looking away from the passing scenery.
"I lied," John said bluntly. "I didn't think it would be this hard."
"You've got her phone number. I know you two will text or whatever."
"It's not the same, and you know it."
"You'll see her again." John looked over at his friend and cocked an eyebrow.
"Don't you care? At all?" Randy shrugged, and John sighed. "You really piss me off sometimes, you know that? She loved you. Her parents just died, and you were like her father all summer. And everyone in the whole world could see that somewhere in that cold heart of yours, you loved her, too."
"Shut up," Randy said dangerously. "I don't wanna talk about it."
"One day you're gonna realize how much she meant to you." Randy slammed his hand down on the dashboard.
"Dammit John, I KNOW how much she meant to me!" A smug grin spread across John's face. He let Randy simmer down for a few minutes before he continued.
"Remember when we found her?" he mused. "That was a funny night."
"Yeah I remember," Randy growled. "It was the night I won the title."
(3 months earlier)
"What a night," Randy Orton said as he hoisted his newly won WWE Championship onto his shoulder.
"THAT was a match NOBODY will forget any time soon," John Cena, his best friend, agreed. "I couldn't think of anyone I'd want to lose my title to more."
"You mean MY title," Randy said with a smile.
"That's what I said, MY title," John joked. They opened the double doors of the arena exit and got pounded by the pouring rain.
"You'd think a couple of multi time world champs could get parking space IN the arena," Randy said as he fought to shut door. John thought for a moment and then snapped his fingers.
"I know a shortcut to the parking garage," he said with a hint of pride in his voice.
"No," Randy replied immediately. "Every time we use one of your shortcuts, something bad happens to me."
"Aww, you're just afraid of the dark or something."
"Oh yeah? What about last time when that crazy fan jumped me and started trying to get you to beat me up with him?" John waved a hand.
"Pure coincidence."
"And the time before that when I dropped my bag and that giant Spam can on wheels hit it and crushed my laptop."
"A freak accident."
"And the time before that when-"
"Oh, would you stop complaining?" John asked. "We could take the long way around, but then you'd have a better chance of catching pneumonia and then they'd have to strip the title while you were recuperating. I was only looking out for your health." Randy considered this for a moment.
"Fine, but just this ONCE."
"YES!" John said with a fist pump. "Alright, follow me, we're just gonna run through this alley and we'll be right by the parking garage."
"Whatever." They opened the door, and Randy followed John as he made a dash for an alley.
As they ran down it, John jumped over something that was lying in the middle of the shortcut, but Randy didn't see it and tripped. He landed on top of it with a thud. John turned and started laughing hysterically.
"I eat my words," he laughed. "I gotta start suggesting shortcuts more often!" Randy mumbled some profanity as he got up. He picked up his bags and was about to kick the soggy bundle he tripped over when it moved.
"John, that thing just twitched," Randy said.
"Oh, that makes sense. It reached up and grabbed your leg, and THAT'S why you fell. I understand now!" He started laughing harder, but stopped when Randy flipped over the thing and revealed a very thin and frail looking girl who looked soaked to the bone.
"Oh dang…" John muttered. He squatted down and examined her. "She doesn't have a fever…" he said as he felt her head.
"Let's take her to the hospital and go home."
"No!" John exclaimed. Randy raised an eyebrow.
"Why not? I don't want to get involved, John!"
"She's gotta have a good reason to NOT be at the hospital! Maybe she can't pay for it, or she has a phobia or something."
"It's not really our problem…"
"So? What's your point?" RKO gave an angry sigh.
"Fine. Just for tonight. And nobody finds out that we have her in our room. I can just see the headlines now." He lifted the girl into his arms. "'John Cena and Randy Orton bring an unconscious girl into their room. What happened on the inside?'" John laughed as he grabbed Randy's dropped bags.
"You're such a girl."
AN:
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