Howdy folks! It’s been nearly 6 months since I’ve done much writing. Life has had other plans for me, but I’ve had a little inspiration and thought I would share it with those few faithful folks who check in here now and then to see if I’ve finally started posting a new story.
A few words of caution before I reveal all… this is only a beginning. And it’s NOT JAFF. I’ve been wanting to work on original stuff and I have a few things running in the background of my mind. Because I am working on original stuff, if and when I post, I will do so with a password protected page. That password will be different than the one I use now. I may even put things in a different part of this website than the WordPress blog. Like many would-be writers, I have dreams of someday being paid for my work. While I have no plans to ever sell any of my JAFF for personal profit, I do have a desire to do so for an original novel or three.
The following is the opening of a story that has a small basis in my personal life, if only for the inspiration for the lead characters. My “best” friend as a teen was the guy across the street. He stood at my side through some very difficult times and he was one of the few constants in my life. He will always have a special place in my memory. Our friendship got me to thinking about an idea of a boy and a girl who where best friends into their adulthood and the things they might to to help each other. Crazy things. This story has no working title. I’ll know it when it comes to me. For now, I’ll call it Original Novel Idea 3.0. Here it is, totally unedited by anyone other than me. You should be able to tell that right away. lol
I still remember the very first time I saw Darren Carter. He was wearing jeans and a green and gold long sleeved Green Bay Packers t-shirt. Why would I remember something so specific when I was only eight years old? Very simple; it was the middle of August in Phoenix and no one in their right mind would wear something that heavy. Did I mention that it was over 100 degrees outside? We are talking Phoenix in the summer.
I decided then and there that this intruder was insane. Plus, he was sleeping in my best buddy Ben’s old bedroom. I mean, if that wasn’t reason enough to distrust him, then I didn’t know anything.
Looking back on it, I was never so wrong about anyone in my life.
I suppose had better explain.
Two months prior to that fateful day, my mom had come into my room. When she shut the door and looked at me, I wondered who had died. She sat me down on my bed and told me that she had just come back from visiting Ben’s mom, Mrs. Robinski. For my entire life, the Robinski’s had lived two doors down across the street from us. Our families knew each other well. Mom explained that for the past year Mr. Robinski had been driving across town to his new job and he had grown tired of the long commute. They had decided it was time to move closer to his work. Mrs. Robinski told mom that they were close to finalizing the purchase of their new home and that in the next few days the “for sale” sign would go up in front of their house. I was devastated.
Ben Robinski and I had grown up together. In one of my photo albums there is a picture of us as toddlers playing together in one of those small plastic pools that most families buy when they don’t have a real swimming pool. The ones with the bright colored fish on the sides from Finding Nemo. The giant wanna-be aquariums also make great water dishes if you have a really big dog and tend to be forgetful about the water thing. When were in first grade, when Emily Parkinson teased Ben about his last name, I found her during recess and pulled on her pigtail until she promised not to do it again. Ben returned the favor in second grade; he heard Tyler Shirley call me a stupid girl and made Tyler take it back. Only Ben was allowed to call me names. We were pretty tight that way. We might have bickered between us, but no one was allowed to mess with our best friend. We even spit-shook on a pact to be best friends forever. You don’t go back on a spit shake. Every kid knows that, hygiene issues aside.
That’s why it hurt so much when he his family locked up their house one last time and then waived goodbye to the neighborhood two weeks after our third grade school year ended.
A month later, after the carpet layers and the painters had done their thing, a new family moved in to Ben’s old house. And so I got my first glimpse of the boy who was destined to become my new best friend.
He looked like a total dork.