"Incident"
It wasn't a good day to be out driving, I knew that before I even got in the car. But, I had left my backpack at Brooke's house and my mom had demanded that I go get it so I could do my homework. It was completely ridiculous to go out in a blizzard just to get a backpack. It'd be one thing if the bag was full of million dollar bills. . .but all it had was my chemistry homework. And that's hardly worth all this peril. But, my mom has always thought that I slack off to much, so it didn't surprise me that she insisted I risk my life for a passing grade.
I grumbled as I made my way to the car. The driveway was already coated with at least an inch of snow. It was coming down in humongous, fluffy flakes. The wind blew the snowflakes slanted, and made my short hair whip into my face. I unlocked the car and climbed in. It was just as cold inside the car as it was outside. I started the car, and immediately cranked up the heat. I didn't wait for the car to warm up before I backed out. Once out of my driveway, I began down the road to Brooke's. There were barely any cars out, due to the insane weather conditions. The snow was coming down on my windshield, blurring the road in front of me. I had the wipers going, but it wasn't doing much good. My hands gripped the steering wheel for dear life, and I had my foot ever so slightly pressing the gas pedal. I was ready to slam on the brakes at a moments notice.
Brooke's house was on the other side of town, so I would have to go through the village to get there. I made my way to the village without much of a problem. It was pretty deserted, albeit a few stragglers. I had to stop when gates came down in front of me, signaling the train's approach. Seizing the opportunity, I pulled out my cellphone and called Brooke's house. She answered on the second ring.
"Hey J." Brooke said, recognizing my phone number.
"Hey, Brooke," I told her, "I left my bookbag at your house. . .I'm comin' to get it, can you have it ready for me?"
"Yeah, sure," Brooke said easily, "Where is it?"
"Check your basement," I suggested.
"Kay," Brooke said, I could hear her clambering down the stairs.
I was gonna respond, but the train came rumbling through the town.
Once it was gone, I began driving again. "I gotta go," I told her, "I'm on the road again."
"So?" she asked.
"So it's dangerous. Not to mention, illegal," I said matter-of-factly.
"Oh whatever," she said, and I could just imagine her rolling her eyes or making a dismissive gesture.
I drove down the road, half blind. I could barely see anything at this point. I could see outlines of houses, and cars. And I could even make out a cross walk up ahead. But, other then that, everything was just a jumbled mess of grey and white. I was pretty sure that I was nearing Brooke's house though. I had just passed a house with a huge boulder in front; which was a landmark that indicated I was near Brooke's.
"Seriously, Brooke," I said, "I gotta go. It's God awful out here. Besides I'm almost to your house-"
I stopped short when a dark blur skidded in front of the car. Then, there was a thump and a startled yelp. I slammed on the brakes.
"Oh my God!" I exclaimed in shock, tearing at the restraints of my seat belt.
She picked up on the panic in my voice, "What happened!" she demanded.
"I think I just hit a dog!" I shouted, struggling with the locks to open the door. Once my nervous fingers finally did, I threw the door open.
"Oh my God you murderer!" she exclaimed passionatly. Brooke, like most people, had a soft spot for dogs.
"I don't know if I killed it," I told her hastily, stepping out into the snow. Cautiously, I moved towards the front of the car, afraid of what I might see. The poor thing could be mutilated and bloody. That depressing theory was proved wrong when I heard a pained whimper. I released a sigh of relief but my breath caught in my throat. The dog might have been alive now, but it was probably in imense pain. Poor thing. For all I knew, it could die anyway of internal bleeding or something.
But, when I reached the front of the car, there was no maimed and dying animal under my car. There was a person, laying on their stomach in the snow.
"Oh my God, oh my God!" I shouted into the phone. I'd thought I'd considered the worse possible outcome; that I'd killed the dog. But I was wrong. Killing a person was defiently worse.
"It's dead, oh my God, it's dead isn't it? You killed a dog. You dog murderer," she accused miserably.
"It's not a dog, oh my God, I hit a person," I cried.
"You hit a person!" she screeched "Oh my God, now you really are a murderer! Wait - are you? Are they okay?"
"I don't know!" I said frantically, and then the person moaned.
"Oh thank God," I sighed in relief, "They're alive."
"Well, who it is?" she asked urgently "Do we know them?"
"I don't know-" I stopped when the person rolled onto their back.
I almost fainted when I saw who it was. I hadn't just run over anybody.
I had run over Seth Youngblood.
Seth Youngblood was the most gorgeous guy in the entire world, I swore to it. He was also a notorious bad boy, and is rumor were correct, he'd been arrested several times.
And, I had hit him with my car.
He had jet black emo hair, with bangs that always fell into his eyes. His face was that kind of movie star beautiful, the kind you only saw on tv. He had creamy skin, without any discoloration. His features were all perfectly straight and angular. His lips were full, and his teeth were perfectly straight and impossibly white. He was wearing a black shirt with skulls all over it, the sleeves were pushed back a little to reveal his muscular arms. A silver choke chain glittered around his throat. And a spiked leather band was wrapped around his wrist. His eyelashes were dark and long, the kind any girl would kill for. His ironically innocent looking wide eyes were a dark, dark brown. But, I couldn't see his pretty eyes, because they were closed, his lashes brushing against his high cheekbones.
"Well!" she demanded, "Who is it?"
"It's Seth Youngblood," I chocked.
"Oh. My. God." she said slowly. I looked down at Seth, and he opened his dark brown eyes.
He looked up at me curiously, as if wondering what had happened.
"I can't talk!" I snapped into the phone "He's waking up!"
"Don't you hang up on-" I cut off her threat when I closed the phone and shoved it in my pocket. I immediately dropped to my knees in the snow next to him.
"Oh God, are you okay?" I said frantically.
"Yeah, yeah," he mumbled, pushing himself up into a sitting position. God, he had the nicest voice. It was so smooth . . . so musical.
"I'm so sorry!" I exclaimed "I didn't see you! Are you alright? Should I call-" He cut me off and put up a hand.
"I'm fine," he insisted, waving his hand
"Are you kidding?" I demanded, "I ran you over!"
"Not really," he said, shrugging, "You didn't run over me, you ran into me."
"Still," I insisted.
"Really, I'm fine," he said, getting agilely to his feet, "Don't beat yourself up over it. It's my own fault. I should've known better then to use a crosswalk"
He smirked at me, and I bit my lip to keep from scowling. After all, he did have a right to be snarky . . . I had hit him with my was just annoying because he was sarcastic and rude all the time. Not that he really ever talked to me . . . But his voice kind of projected.
He smiled, amused by my grimace. "Well. . . I gotta go. . .you know, things to do, people to see."
"Want me to take you home?" I offered, feeling a little awkward.
"No, no, it's alright," he shot me down. I wasn't surprised.
"Really, I insist. I almost killed you, that means it's my responsibility to make sure you get home safely," I explained.
"Really, it's okay. I'm not going home, anyway,," he said "I was on my way out when you hit me"
"Oh, well, you really shouldn't be going out in this storm," I said matter-of-factly. "Especially without a coat," I thought but didn't say. Seth never wore a coat.
"I could say the same thing about you," he said with a smirk.
"Well, I-I have stuff to do," I defended myself, flustered.
"Well, so do I," he said, striding arrogantly away from me, "Well. . .thanks. . .Guess I'll see you later. . .ugh Jill?"
"Jane," I corrected, semi-sighing. I wasn't surprised that he didn't know my name.
"Right . . . Jane," he said, smiling, "I gotta remember that"
Then, he disappeared into the snowy landscape.
Mouth hanging wide open, I stood motionlessly in the middle of the road. It took me a minute to think straight. Seth Youngblood was ridiculously hot. . .and I wasn't sure, but it seemed like he was mildly flirting with me. . .me! I shook my head to clear it, and made my way back to the car. I climbed into the warm vehicle and started the car again. I numbly made my way to Brooke's house. My hands gripped the steering wheel even harder, and I was extra-alert. I kept my eyes directly in front of me the whole time, not wanting to run 'into' anyone else. When I arrived at Brooke's house, I parked in front of the curb. Braving the storm, I slipped out of the car and cut across the snow covered lawn to the front yard. I clambered up the porch steps and rung the doorbell.
Brooke opened the door a minute later. Brooke was a stunning blonde emo. She had white-blonde hair with the hair underneath dyed a dark brown. The roots were also dark brown, but it was more intentional then a flaw. She had traded her previous outfit for navy sweatpants and a black tank top. It amazed me how she could wear a tank top in this freezing weather, but I guess she is inside. In one hand, she clutched my checkered, black and white, backpack. She was looking down at me, even though she was slouching.
"I'm assuming that you being here means that you didn't kill Seth?" she asked nervously.
"Nope, he's fine. I just kinda. . . knocked into him," I reassured, "He said he was fine"
"You talked to him!" she demanded, "Oh my God, what'd he say? Was he mad? Oh my God, I bet he was pissed."
"No, actually, he was really cool about it," I told her.
"Too bad," she said, "He's really hot when he's mad. . .kinda scary. . .but seriously hot"
"Yeah, I know," I agreed. He'd once gotten into a shouting match with out Spanish teacher before getting sent to the office. I couldn't even remember what they were fighting about.
"So . . . What did he say?" she asked again.
"I should really get going," I said, "Before it gets dark."
"Oh c'mon, just a few more minutes," she begged, "I wanna know what happened."
I sighed. Why I expected Brooke to be reasonable, I did not know. "Goodbye Brooke," I sai firmly.
"Fine. Text me," she commanded.
"Yeah, yeah," I said, waving a hand dismissively over my shoulder. I quickly made my way to the car as snow poured down on me. I scrambled into the car and began driving.
The drive back home passed without incident. I backed up into the driveway, and shut off the car. I climbed out of the car and slammed the door behind me. I locked the car, and stomped my way to the porch, and unlocked the door. It was warm inside, and I smiled contently. My older brother, Jack was lounging across the old brown couch. He had his head propped up on a maroon pillow and was surfing the internet on his laptop. He had his headphones in, and was wearing sweatpants and a ratty grey t-shirt. His shaggy dark brown hair was wet and was sticking to his forehead. He didn't look up when I came in. But, he did pull out his headphones, probably expecting me to say something to him.
My sister Molly did, though. Little eight year old Molly had her dark brown hair twisted into two braids that were starting to fray at the edges. She wore a pink night gown with blue pajama pants. She was sprawled across the floor, playing with her dolls. She wasn't paying any attention to the tv that was on in front of her. She looked up when I came in. Her little glasses were slipping off her nose, and she pushed them back up.
"Hi Jane," she chirped happily.
"Hey Molly," I said dully, shrugging out of my coat.
My mom has absolutely no imagination. The only names she could come up with for her three kids were Jack, Jane, and Molly. The most classic and cliché names ever. But, from my mother, it wasn't a surprise. Normality was what she strived for.
"Mommy's been worried" Molly told me, "She said you were taking too long"
"Oh, yeah. That's because I ran over someone," I said casually.
"You hit somebody with your car?" Jack demanded in shock.
"Yeah, they're okay though," I told him dismissively.
"Yeah, they say that now. But, when they sue us they're gonna claim that you damaged them for life," he told me.
"Oh relax. It was Seth Youngblood. I highly doubt he's gonna sue us," I told him with an eye roll.
"Oh," Jack said, visibly relaxing, "That little creep?"
"Yeah, that little creep," I said, mimicking his tone of revulsion.
"Are you mocking me?" he demanded.
"Yes," I said simply. He made a sound of disgust in the back of his throat.
"You just like him because he's 'so hot,'" he said, making air quotes with his fingers.
"Not true. I like him because he's so sexy," I corrected him.
He made another sound of revolousion, and put his headphones back in. Glad to have won, I made my way towards the stairs. I paused at the foot of the stairs.
"'Ey Molly, tell Mom I'm back," I told her.
"Okey-dokey," she chirped. I nodded and disappeared upstairs. I made my way into the room I shared with Molly. It was decorated to show the separation between teen and child. One half of the room was painted a light pink with pictures of puppies decorating the wall. A princess bed was as situated in the center, surrounded by dollhouses and stuffed animals. A mini bookshelf painted a soft teal was in one corner, full of childish books. A light violet desk was placed against the wall, paper and crayons scattered around.
The other side was painted a dark purple. The walls were decorated with posters of hot guys. The bed in the middle was a double, and a black bed set covered it. The pillows were combinations of purple and black, in all different sizes. Against the wall was a pretty black vanity, hair products and makeup were scattered on it. A wooden bookshelf, painted purple, leaned against a wall. The closet was on this side, and the doors had been painted black. A laptop was sitting on the purple desk near the window. Black lace curtains had been pulled over the two small windows.
Separating the two sections, was a humongous white sheet thrown over a cord that ran down the center of the room. Dividing our areas and creating an illusion that we had our own rooms. The room itself was definitely big enough for two people, but it'd be nice to have my own. But, this house only has three bedrooms. My mom of course had her own. And so did Jack. It only made sense for the two girls to share. But, that didn't mean I had to like it.
Sighing, I went over to my side of the room. I threw my bookbag down on my bed, and grabbed pajamas out of my closet. I stripped off my outfit and put on my pajamas. A black sweatshirt and green pajama pants with flowers all over them. They didn't have to match, or even look good. Just be comfortable. Feeling more comfy, I went over to my vanity. I looked in the mirror.
I was genuinely pretty, but not the kind of girl guys really liked. I didn't have sexy curves or ten feet of legs. I was small and had a slim, curve less body. My skin was a soft cream, and I didn't really get acne. I had generally soft feminine facial features. My jaw and chin were well defined. My cheekbones were pretty invisible. My lips were plump, and naturally a light plum color. My eyes were childlike and wide, and green specked with grey. My dark brown hair was cropped in a short pixie cut. It almost reached my chin. I had dyed streaks of it a dark red. I kept it in a messy style, letting it cover my forehead.
So, I was pretty. But, not sexy. Not the kind of girl guy's usually panted over. I was the kind of girl who looked like a goth pixie. So, there was no way that Seth Youngblood, emo sex god, would ever be interested in me.