I.
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George and Laureen Zexel drove down the rainy streets of Forks, Washington with their son Samson in the back. He watched as the buildings passed by with water streaming down in rivets on his glass, the Ipod he had plugged in his ears played the song from his favorite band Nickelback. Most people thought that their songs all sounded the same, but Sam thought they were unique; a true reflection of what the singers and songwriters felt or yearned for. He bumped his feet absently on the back of his father's worn out car seat.
"Sammy," His mother turned to him teasingly. "You're going to push him right into the airbag. The teenager slid his cap around and smiled sideways at his mother's affectionate yet babying comments.
"Listen to your mother," He heard his father laugh. "Samson, you need to take those noisy excuses for ear plugs out of your head and get in on your studies for once." His tone took on a grave note. "That's one of our reasons for being here son."
I thought it was to get me away from my 'gang' member friends. Samson thought as he shifted his attention lazily out at the storm-thrashing houses. His parents assumed that anyone who dressed in any form of rebellious-looking clothing was asking for trouble.
"There's this one program after school that was recommended by our friends back in Olympia." Laureen informed him, turned her small face and focusing her green eyes onto his face. "There's a girl who goes to this school who positively runs the whole system. I have heard that she could have gone on to college, but prefers to stay with those her age."
"Cool," Samson said idly, sending Carroll a text message. 'No. Nothing much. I haven't gotten 2 rit anymore lyrics 4 our song.' A few moments passed and she asked. 'Send me a picture of this place.' Shrugging to himself, he set his Samsung to it's picture options.
As they came to a stop on that Saturday morning, Samson rolled down his window and poised the black slider up at a two-story brown-bricked townhouse with red shutters, door and roof. Laureen looked his way and he rolled it up with exasperation at her nitpicking.
The waft of fresh rain sprayed into the Toyota as he finished winding up the window, when Samson looked down at the camera he saw something that immediately raised him out of his rainy day stupor. A young woman appeared on the screen, half turned at the top of the hall with a pretentious look down at him from a fuzzed image. There appeared to be a big cat of dark brown markings snuggled up in her arms. Samson couldn't believe his green-blue eyes that he had captured the girl's picture even as it was a bit blurred by the muggy rain sheets.
He took the plugs out of his ears as he rolled the window back down and peered out at the mail box before the car pulled away. The red letters B.L.A.C.K. were on the rectangular, brick-laden landmark. "Mom, who did you say was that girl's name? The one your friend mentioned."
"I believe its Nessie Black." Her mother said casually. "You'll meet her Monday."
An off-feeling settled in Samson's stomach. "Oh, boy."
To be continued…