A/N; Holla! I'm back, sorry fro taking like, a month off =) hope this
chapter will be good =) you know, I just realized that this story has A LOT
of kissing scenes, like at least, every chapter that has Jess and Rob,
there'll be a sexy and sweet kissing scenes... so, if you feel I should write
more or less of it, let me know =) Okay, you may go read now =)
CHAPTER 5
On Friday morning, as I was about to go next door to Ruth's house, we're neighbors and best friends, my cell phone rang. It was from Special Agent Smith. Apparently, there was not even a fingerprint of the bad guy, except of course, mine. Even the note, which had been neatly typed, did not have any fingerprints. Even Rebecca's still unconscious. The day was off to a bad start.
Great. Just what I needed. A crappy day.
To top it all off, it seemed that this one morning, Ruth had decided to catch an early ride, around 6:45 a.m. since she had forgotten to return a library book, and the book was due was yesterday. She thought that if she came early and dropped the book before the library opened, she won't have to pay a quarter for returning it late. Come on, Ruth. Get real. It's just a quarter. How much does your best friend here costs anyway, that you just left her? How am I going to get a ride to school? No choice, the bus. But it seemed that I didn't even have to ride the bus that morning, since Skip Abramowitz, Ruth's twin, offered to give me a ride on his Trams Am. Even though, Skip is like a nerd, beggars can't be choosers, can they? When I entered the car, this guy, short black hair, trimmed neatly, kind of cute, but still, Rob is cuter, was already seated on the passenger seat, next to Skip.
"Hey there." He said to me. "I'm Eric. Eric Bonnet. You must've been Jessica Mastriani. Lightning Girl, right? Heard a lot about you from the Abramowitz," when he said that, Skip turned red. Skip must've been the Abramowitz that talked about me the most," I'm new at Ernest Pyle High School. Transferred from Paoli High School." Paoli is the town next to our town.
"Yeah, I'm Lightning Girl. But I lost my "gift" already. Haven't you heard or read from the media?" That was so untrue. I still had my psychic stuff with me, stronger even. But I'd said to the media that I'd lost it. Only the usual people know, my family, Rob, Ruth and the FBI. Skip is so not the usual people who knows about this. I did this so that people wouldn't go to me, in crazy ways, may I say, calling my house phone non-stop asking me to find family members, or even mailing me information about the missing people they want to find. Even if the pictures were there and I'd accidentally look at it, and dreamt of the missing person, I would say it to the FBI so they could tell that whoever wants to find that missing person, the person's found, but by the police.
Neat cover up, huh?
Anyway, I hopped in the car and asked Skip to make a turn at the turnoff of Pike's Creek Road, the road that leads to a Dunkin' Donuts and also where Rob's uncle's garage is located. Not to mention that this was where Rob worked. When Skip parked his Trans Am nearby to Dunkin' Donuts and went away with Eric to get a cruller, I, went to see Rob. He was fixing a motorcycle, his back to me. I lowered my head to his and kissed him lightly on the cheek. He must have been surprised of this way of greeting him, I mean, come on, you're at work fixing cars and suddenly some girl just come to you and kiss you? Not an everyday thing.
"Mastriani? You shocked the hell out of me. What are you doing here anyway?"
"Just a way of greeting," I flashed an innocent smile, " Skip's driving me to school today since Ruth can't. He and Eric, his friend wanted to get a cruller so I thought I would just drop by here to check on you while they go get themselves crullers." The part about Skip and his friend wanting to get a cruller was so totally untrue since it had been me who asked them to drop by this road. But anyway, Rob didn't seem to care that Skip and Eric wanted to get a cruller, no, he cared about the part of WHY I had gone with Skip to school instead of Ruth and also the fact that I'm riding in a car with two boys. If my intuition hadn't been wrong, I would say that Rob is, after all, j-e-a-l-o-u-s.
"You mean Skip, Ruth's twin? He gave you a ride to school today with his guy friend in the car with him?" I nodded. " Where are they right now? Tell them I'll drop you off at school." He then told this guy, Jeremy, his colleague, that he'd be out for five minutes to drop off his girlfriend (me!). I realized that he didn't mention drop me off to where, I take it that he's still thinking that having a girlfriend in high school is a major embarrassment for a guy.
Just then as Rob took his bike's key and washed his hands from all the black oil, Skip and Eric stepped out of the Dunkin' Donuts, eating a cruller each, and waved to me to come over there so we could get moving. Casually, Rob said to them that he's going to take me to school and took my hand, lead me to his bike, gave me his spare helmet, and zoom off.
Way cool. Especially when it was done in front of Skip Abramowitz, who claimed that him and me go way back. As if.
Rob dropped me off at the student's parking lot, gave me a quick kiss, asked me to go home with Ruth and NOT Skip, and drove off.
Just my luck at that moment Karen Sue Hanky saw Rob giving me that quick kiss and went all "You're dating a Grit, am I right? Let a Grit kiss you all the time, why don't you?"
Let me just point out here that I'm not exactly so patience and tolerant. I mean, my patience has its limits. And well, disgracing Rob, though it is true that he is a Grit, was just too much. And that was why I punched her straight at her nose like the last time I did this, breaking her nasal cartilage and oozing out blood and was hauled straight to Mr. Goodhart's office, the counselor's office.
Now, let me explain. Being a Grit is not a bad thing. It's just not very accepted. I mean, here, in Ernest Pyle High School, there are two kinds of people: Townies and Grits. Townies, like me, are people who live in town and have parents who have decent jobs like doctors or lawyers or something like that while Grits, like Rob, are people who live on the other side of town and have parents working as factory workers or farmers or some unprofessional jobs. Also, Townies are more proper and richer than Grits. In other words, Townies and Grits don't mix. Period.
There are subsets within this groups, like the JD-juvenile delinquent- and the Jocks-your usual popular kids, athletes and cheerleaders, but mostly, the school is divided into Grits and Townies.
I know that me, Jessica Mastriani, a Townie, dating Robert Wilkins, a Grit, is NOT accepted in this school, especially among people who really care about the school being in two groups, such as Karen Sue Hanky, even though the guy had already graduated last year and had nothing to do with Ernest Pyle High School anymore.
Mr. Goodhart, the school's counselor, was my counselor since I was a freshman. I mean, I was always sent there whenever I kicked or punched somebody, but normally, I had good reasons. I did all that because people were always calling Douglas retarded or spaz or something equal to it just because he was always acting weird that I felt like it was my duty as Douglas' younger sister to go to them and just gave a fist to teach them a lesson worth learning. But more often than not, I got myself lessons worth accomplishing from Mr. Goodhart. You know, the kind of speech that goes, "Deal Your Problems Mentally, NOT Physically".
After I was done explaining to him about what just happened and what Karen Sue, my mortal enemy said, he launched into one of his "Jessica, how many times must I told you to control your anger?" lecture. So as he was lecturing, me nodding several times just to show him I was listening when I really wasn't even paying attention to what he was saying, I sank back onto this orange vinyl chair, the one by the window and looked out the window. There wasn't a lot to see from Mr. Goodhart's counselor office window actually, just the teacher's parking lot, mostly, and the sky. This town that I live in is actually pretty flat, so you can always see a lot of sky. There was also this car wash across the street where next to it was a McDonald's and across the street from the McDonald's was a Pizza Hut. During lunchtimes, seniors, who are the ones who could go out during this period, will all stuff themselves with pepperoni pizzas and Quarter Pounder.
While I was doing so, looking out the window, it was amazing how my thoughts didn't even wonder whether there could just be somebody watching me from somewhere, planning yet another plan to kill me, when and where to attack, too.
In fact, it was right here at Ernest Pyle High School where Mr. Anonymous strike again
A/N: Just another quickie... a cliffhanger?? Hope it puts much suspense in you =D
CHAPTER 5
On Friday morning, as I was about to go next door to Ruth's house, we're neighbors and best friends, my cell phone rang. It was from Special Agent Smith. Apparently, there was not even a fingerprint of the bad guy, except of course, mine. Even the note, which had been neatly typed, did not have any fingerprints. Even Rebecca's still unconscious. The day was off to a bad start.
Great. Just what I needed. A crappy day.
To top it all off, it seemed that this one morning, Ruth had decided to catch an early ride, around 6:45 a.m. since she had forgotten to return a library book, and the book was due was yesterday. She thought that if she came early and dropped the book before the library opened, she won't have to pay a quarter for returning it late. Come on, Ruth. Get real. It's just a quarter. How much does your best friend here costs anyway, that you just left her? How am I going to get a ride to school? No choice, the bus. But it seemed that I didn't even have to ride the bus that morning, since Skip Abramowitz, Ruth's twin, offered to give me a ride on his Trams Am. Even though, Skip is like a nerd, beggars can't be choosers, can they? When I entered the car, this guy, short black hair, trimmed neatly, kind of cute, but still, Rob is cuter, was already seated on the passenger seat, next to Skip.
"Hey there." He said to me. "I'm Eric. Eric Bonnet. You must've been Jessica Mastriani. Lightning Girl, right? Heard a lot about you from the Abramowitz," when he said that, Skip turned red. Skip must've been the Abramowitz that talked about me the most," I'm new at Ernest Pyle High School. Transferred from Paoli High School." Paoli is the town next to our town.
"Yeah, I'm Lightning Girl. But I lost my "gift" already. Haven't you heard or read from the media?" That was so untrue. I still had my psychic stuff with me, stronger even. But I'd said to the media that I'd lost it. Only the usual people know, my family, Rob, Ruth and the FBI. Skip is so not the usual people who knows about this. I did this so that people wouldn't go to me, in crazy ways, may I say, calling my house phone non-stop asking me to find family members, or even mailing me information about the missing people they want to find. Even if the pictures were there and I'd accidentally look at it, and dreamt of the missing person, I would say it to the FBI so they could tell that whoever wants to find that missing person, the person's found, but by the police.
Neat cover up, huh?
Anyway, I hopped in the car and asked Skip to make a turn at the turnoff of Pike's Creek Road, the road that leads to a Dunkin' Donuts and also where Rob's uncle's garage is located. Not to mention that this was where Rob worked. When Skip parked his Trans Am nearby to Dunkin' Donuts and went away with Eric to get a cruller, I, went to see Rob. He was fixing a motorcycle, his back to me. I lowered my head to his and kissed him lightly on the cheek. He must have been surprised of this way of greeting him, I mean, come on, you're at work fixing cars and suddenly some girl just come to you and kiss you? Not an everyday thing.
"Mastriani? You shocked the hell out of me. What are you doing here anyway?"
"Just a way of greeting," I flashed an innocent smile, " Skip's driving me to school today since Ruth can't. He and Eric, his friend wanted to get a cruller so I thought I would just drop by here to check on you while they go get themselves crullers." The part about Skip and his friend wanting to get a cruller was so totally untrue since it had been me who asked them to drop by this road. But anyway, Rob didn't seem to care that Skip and Eric wanted to get a cruller, no, he cared about the part of WHY I had gone with Skip to school instead of Ruth and also the fact that I'm riding in a car with two boys. If my intuition hadn't been wrong, I would say that Rob is, after all, j-e-a-l-o-u-s.
"You mean Skip, Ruth's twin? He gave you a ride to school today with his guy friend in the car with him?" I nodded. " Where are they right now? Tell them I'll drop you off at school." He then told this guy, Jeremy, his colleague, that he'd be out for five minutes to drop off his girlfriend (me!). I realized that he didn't mention drop me off to where, I take it that he's still thinking that having a girlfriend in high school is a major embarrassment for a guy.
Just then as Rob took his bike's key and washed his hands from all the black oil, Skip and Eric stepped out of the Dunkin' Donuts, eating a cruller each, and waved to me to come over there so we could get moving. Casually, Rob said to them that he's going to take me to school and took my hand, lead me to his bike, gave me his spare helmet, and zoom off.
Way cool. Especially when it was done in front of Skip Abramowitz, who claimed that him and me go way back. As if.
Rob dropped me off at the student's parking lot, gave me a quick kiss, asked me to go home with Ruth and NOT Skip, and drove off.
Just my luck at that moment Karen Sue Hanky saw Rob giving me that quick kiss and went all "You're dating a Grit, am I right? Let a Grit kiss you all the time, why don't you?"
Let me just point out here that I'm not exactly so patience and tolerant. I mean, my patience has its limits. And well, disgracing Rob, though it is true that he is a Grit, was just too much. And that was why I punched her straight at her nose like the last time I did this, breaking her nasal cartilage and oozing out blood and was hauled straight to Mr. Goodhart's office, the counselor's office.
Now, let me explain. Being a Grit is not a bad thing. It's just not very accepted. I mean, here, in Ernest Pyle High School, there are two kinds of people: Townies and Grits. Townies, like me, are people who live in town and have parents who have decent jobs like doctors or lawyers or something like that while Grits, like Rob, are people who live on the other side of town and have parents working as factory workers or farmers or some unprofessional jobs. Also, Townies are more proper and richer than Grits. In other words, Townies and Grits don't mix. Period.
There are subsets within this groups, like the JD-juvenile delinquent- and the Jocks-your usual popular kids, athletes and cheerleaders, but mostly, the school is divided into Grits and Townies.
I know that me, Jessica Mastriani, a Townie, dating Robert Wilkins, a Grit, is NOT accepted in this school, especially among people who really care about the school being in two groups, such as Karen Sue Hanky, even though the guy had already graduated last year and had nothing to do with Ernest Pyle High School anymore.
Mr. Goodhart, the school's counselor, was my counselor since I was a freshman. I mean, I was always sent there whenever I kicked or punched somebody, but normally, I had good reasons. I did all that because people were always calling Douglas retarded or spaz or something equal to it just because he was always acting weird that I felt like it was my duty as Douglas' younger sister to go to them and just gave a fist to teach them a lesson worth learning. But more often than not, I got myself lessons worth accomplishing from Mr. Goodhart. You know, the kind of speech that goes, "Deal Your Problems Mentally, NOT Physically".
After I was done explaining to him about what just happened and what Karen Sue, my mortal enemy said, he launched into one of his "Jessica, how many times must I told you to control your anger?" lecture. So as he was lecturing, me nodding several times just to show him I was listening when I really wasn't even paying attention to what he was saying, I sank back onto this orange vinyl chair, the one by the window and looked out the window. There wasn't a lot to see from Mr. Goodhart's counselor office window actually, just the teacher's parking lot, mostly, and the sky. This town that I live in is actually pretty flat, so you can always see a lot of sky. There was also this car wash across the street where next to it was a McDonald's and across the street from the McDonald's was a Pizza Hut. During lunchtimes, seniors, who are the ones who could go out during this period, will all stuff themselves with pepperoni pizzas and Quarter Pounder.
While I was doing so, looking out the window, it was amazing how my thoughts didn't even wonder whether there could just be somebody watching me from somewhere, planning yet another plan to kill me, when and where to attack, too.
In fact, it was right here at Ernest Pyle High School where Mr. Anonymous strike again
A/N: Just another quickie... a cliffhanger?? Hope it puts much suspense in you =D