What? Who? Where? Why? When?

Five questions that can define a situation with utmost clarity, when answered properly. Enough to make everything seem so simple that a monkey should be able to figure it out; that’s a lie, either that or I’m not fit for the zoo.

What, is an indefinable statement. If you knew what, whatever it was, then you wouldn’t need to follow up with the other four. Sometimes you can know the other four, and not know what. It’s a mysterious thing that seems to avoid discovery until the last minute, dropping an anvil on you when you’ve left your tiny umbrella at home. The definition of pain, confusion, and stupidity rolled into one and strong enough to make even the hardest soul cry.

It gives me a headache just thinking about it.

Who; that one is easy enough. For myself there have been a lot of “whos” in my life. They spread from the most childish, rudest, cheapest, and sleaziest to the stupidest, blindest, and most frustrating. Now be it men or women, depending which team you bat for, they’re all the same.

I, Sandra Jamieson, hereby declare that the team I bat for is the loosing one. I have more strikeouts than a second string first baseman for the worst team in the league; did I mention I’m a tomboy? I think this is my biggest problem, why? Ha, there’s one of those questions again; see how they pop up like that?

Growing up in a small town, surrounded by a handful of male relatives around the same age it’s needless to say that I was raised as a boy. My hair was short for most of my life and I had more fun playing in the mud than with my Barbies. Yes, I had Barbies but they didn’t hold as much joy for me as a juicy mud pie in the appropriate person’s face. Cruel? Perhaps, but fun none the less.

So now you see my problem? I’m way too familiar with the male psyche. I didn’t slumber party or get boy crazy when that cute new guy moved into town. I was the one going over and asking him for a game of one on one in the gym after school. First problem, answered. Second problem; I get way too tongue tied when a guy finally catches my fancy.

The familiarity that I have goes completely out the window and I turn into the drooling, slobbering mess that can’t form a coherent sentence if my life depended on it. It’s sad, upsetting, and the cause of all my problems.

Now you’re probably all wondering where this is going and looking back, I have to admit it’s getting rather long winded. But fear not, those of you still with me on this cataclysmic journey, this was merely the prologue; the introduction to the way I think so that none of you are scarred for life later on.

Warning: I’m dirty, uncensored, and have the attention span of a gnat. Was that an airplane? Oh, what? Right, getting on with it, I’ll answer those questions above.

What: Unknown due to idiocy on my part.

Who: Myself! Sandra Jamieson, otherwise known as simply James; boy’s name, go figure.

Where: The little town I grew up in, during my summer vacation before college.

Why: Because fate chose to slap me over the head with a hammer; bastard.

When: Last year.

And the show goes on. Cue the rooster and the morning sun peeking over the horizon; buckle up for safety people, this could get bumpy...

-- -- -- -- --

Pain prickled over the bare skin on my arm, distorting Ryan Reynolds from view. It would truly be too much to ask that it wasn’t a dream and the pain wasn’t my cat deciding he needed to visit the great outdoors. I cracked an eye just to find two yellow ones staring down at me from an elevated position.

Just the cat; karma hates me.

“Morning, handsome.” My voice came out garbled from sleep, a lot like I’d spent all night screaming at an AC/DC concert. Running a hand over his soft head, I pushed the covers aside and sat up; long brown hair sticking up erratically from the pony tail it had escaped. I’d decided to grow it out for graduation, although the pain it was proving to be wasn’t worth the effort; it was unruly, thick, and never did what it was told.

He meowed at me, the high pitched sound betraying the twenty or some odd pounds that hung on his little frame. My cat is large and fat, but he has extra toes which carry extra claws so no one tells him that.

“Do you need to go outside buddy?”

He raced for the door, his hurried footsteps sounding like a horse was running through the house. If that cat wasn’t careful, we’ll be replacing the floor after he goes through it.

Groaning heavily, I started after him. He was impatient as hell, didn’t like to be kept waiting when there were birds he could be chasing or dogs to annoy. It just occurred to me that knowing the personality of your cat, is a sad affair. Memo to self: Get a life.

My mother was up already, same with my father. Both sitting at the kitchen table of our three bedroom home, sipping coffee and talking about work. My brother was absent, not odd, he always slept in till at least noon.

“Morning people.” I sighed, yawning heavily as I padded to the front door to let the cat out. He was jumping up to wiggle the doorknob; obviously he missed the patience line when they’d handed out virtues.

Cracking the door, he slipped out like a lightening bolt and vanished across our front lawn. He’d be back shortly, he couldn’t go far without snacks and he hadn’t been fed yet this morning.

“Little dork.” I grumbled, sitting at the table and grabbing myself a coffee cup to fill. “I was planning to sleep in till at least tomorrow and he ruined it for me.”

My dad glanced up from the paper, murky green eyes settled under bushy black brows. I had the same eyebrows, although kept neatly plucked. If I ever allowed them to run unchecked, they’d take over my face like the Germans did to France during world war two.

“Better you than me.”

Touché, the old man had a point there.

My mom grabbed the coffee pot without prompting, bless her soul, and filled me up. Must have been instinct from working at the diner in town.

“What are you planning to do today? First day of summer vacation.”

I shrugged. What was I going to do? The thought of freedom hadn’t occurred to me until she’d asked. For an escaped convict, I was being very unorganized.

“I don’t know. I might just kick around here, eat like a pig, watch some TV, and plan total world domination.” I already had a plan of transplanting one of my eyebrow hairs onto each world leader. Then it was merely a question of sitting back and waiting until they were completely overran.

My mom set the pot back on the coffee maker.

“That’s nice.”

I snorted and sipped the dangerously black brew. It was strong, perfect for the morning, but you had to keep an eye on it or it would reach out and slap you after dissolving your spoon. Setting it aside and letting the caffeine kick in, I gave them a once over.

“Aren’t you guys late for work or something?”

My dad gave me a suspicious look, eyes narrowing beneath those brows.

“In a hurry to get us out of the house? Who’s coming over?”

Leave it to dad to assume there’s an ulterior motive.

“Nope, nobody; if you don’t count that sexy man who works over at the Mission Gas Plant.”

He folded the paper and set it aside as he stood. All I had to do was mention the possibility of being late and he’d jump into action; he hated being late. Who didn’t really?

My mom grabbed her purse and tucked a strand of amber hair behind her ear as she kissed me on the cheek.

“Bishop phoned early this morning, told me to tell you to call him back.”

Good to know. Bishop, or rather Franky T. Bishop, was my best friend. We’d met during the third grade, even though the school was small and it was hard to miss each other. We never really started hanging out until a bully in our class was picking on him at the playground; making him eat sand.

The thought really makes you shiver; cats poop in sand. Gross.

Anyway, I already mentioned growing up with a handful of male cousins older than myself so fending off a snot-nosed bully was nothing I couldn’t handle. It did earn me two days of detention, my cousins were proud, but it also earned me a friendship I’d never trade for anything.

He was also a morning person; sick, something I didn’t need right now.

“I’ll call him later.” I offered with a tight smile. And just like that, I was the lone sailor on an empty ship; house all to myself, what’s a girl to do?

Sitting up to look out the picture window, I watched the truck roll from the driveway and beyond sight. The possibilities were endless. I could juggle eggs, make my patented ‘not so healthy for you’ breakfast, blast music, or dance around like I was being attacked by crazed wasps.

I stood up, trying to decide which one of my options to explore when a familiar feeling hit me like a tone of bricks.

“Gotta pee.”

Karma bites me again…or is that nature?

-- -- -- -- --

After using the facility, juggling eggs was out of the question as was the crazed dancing. So I had to settle for a ‘not so healthy breakfast’. Dressing was quick, simply throwing on a pair of rumpled jeans and hoodie; they had called for rain today, didn’t they?

I didn’t do makeup, there was no reason to. Now contrary to most tomboy types, I actually enjoyed doing my makeup if I had a reason to. But I could count the number of hot dates I had in the future using no fingers and zero toes, so it wasn’t an issue.

Hot dates in the future; try no dates in the past, present, or future. I was too busy being friends with the guys to consider dating them. Usually by the time it got around to that, I was safely tucked away in the friend’s zone; so the idea of dating any friend was out of the question.

I much rather preferred to hear them complain about the bitches they were dating; fun with a capital, ‘F’.

Grabbing the phone as I hurried to the kitchen, I dialled Bishop’s cell phone. He was a morning person, like I said already, so the odds he was at home were zero to none. Probably out terrorizing the locals already with his constant teasing and charm; everybody saw through it to the little geek who was forced to eat sand in grade three.

Bishop had been a geek when he was younger. I repeat, had, been a geek; he wasn’t anymore. His gangly frame had filled out with muscle when he joined the high school hockey team in grade ten. It wasn’t really a school team, but everyone called it that. He started lifting weights and was now quite muscular. I knew a bunch of local girls that drove by on Saturday to catch him without a shirt on; he washed his truck on Saturdays.

Anyways, his curly orange hair had tamed itself and was now more of a coppery colour. I can’t count on my fingers how many times he’s been asked who dyed his hair for him; it’s a unique colour. But it was thick and luscious on the top of his head and always flying away in a sexy way that I’m sure models spend hours with a stylist getting perfected.

The teeth that used to rival a horse and could probably chew corn through a picket fence had been fixed by two years of braces and now he had the most gorgeous smile for miles. Yep, the gangly geek I’d rescued had turned into a hot piece of man meat, according to everyone else. I still didn’t see it, I still saw the little boy spitting sand for ten minutes with big tears rolling from bright blue eyes.

Maybe I was an idiot, or maybe I knew that he was terrified of spiders and hated bananas. Spending most of your time with someone for ten years gives you insight that sometimes you overlook and take for granted. I actually had to have someone in our class point out the fact that Bishop was hot; silly me, I must’ve overlooked it during our numerous food fights, wrestling matches, and outdoor adventures.

“Morning, James!”

His voice erupting in my ear made me jump and almost drop the phone. Nobody called me Sandra. It came from all my male cousins giving me a guy’s nickname; like saying a female one while playing king of the castle was a forbidden thing.

“Morning.” I replied, moving to the fridge to find some bacon. “You called?”

“Yeah, you at home?”

I rolled my eyes. He had call display, that’s how he knew it was me. Where the hell did he think I was calling from?

“No, I woke up in some foreign place and just happened to have the inkling that you called me, twerp.”

His deep laughter filled the phone, irritating me. He was way too happy for being nine o’clock in the morning. Someone should cut him down to size.

“Good.” He finally said. I heard the front door open and peeked around the wall to see him stride in, cell phone to his ear. “Then I’m not wasting my time.”

Hanging up, I threw the phone at him.

“Dickweed.”

He caught the phone easily and set it down, making himself at home.

“Brat.”

I proceeded to ignore him as I moved around the kitchen readying my breakfast. Not that it would matter; he’d been over here so much that it was like his home away from home. He simply sat at the kitchen table and helped himself to my mom’s coffee.

The frying pan began to spit as I heated it up and pulled out some bacon, cheese, and eggs. Where were the bagels? Looking through the cupboards, I felt his gaze on the back of my head and stiffened.

“What are you staring at?”

I hadn’t meant to bark at him, but he was used to it by now.

“Are you going to make me something to eat too?”

I should have known; the man was a bottomless pit. No matter how much he ate, he never gained a pound. Whereas, myself, at a hundred and thirty pounds I had to work like a dog to keep it that way. If I ate a little healthier, I probably wouldn’t have to, but I liked food too much to ignore its call.

“It’s not healthy, will be greasy, and taste damn good. Are you sure you want any?” I asked dryly, pulling down the bagels from a cupboard.

He chuckled softly.

“Most definitely.”

The bacon hit the pan and the sound filled the kitchen for several seconds, drowning out any attempt at conversation. When it quieted down, I cracked four eggs and threw them in the pan as well; no sense wasting half a pan.

“So?” I finally asked, spinning to lean against the counter. Crossing my arms over my chest, I ignored the fact that doing so pushed my boobs up like Miss Piggy’s; I was wearing a hoodie, it wouldn’t matter.

He shrugged and looked over the front page of the newspaper.

“I was driving by and thought we’d hang out today. I have nothing better to do and I know you have no life.”

I sputtered. How dare he accost my life? So what if I knew a cat better than any of the people my age, aside from Bishop, and had no social life whatsoever. Who was he to judge?

“I’m spitting in your sandwich for that.”

A pained expression etched across his face, right into those pale blue eyes.

“I knew there’d be consequences, but I was willing to overlook them just to get the shot in.”

“Pooh on you then, you had it coming.”

I kicked myself the moment I said it. What a childish thing to say? Pooh on you, what the hell was I thinking? His cell phone rang, distracting me from berating myself. Besides, the bacon was burning.

The soft drone of his voice filled the kitchen as I flipped the bacon and eggs. The smell was making my mouth water and I finally realized how hungry I was. The secret of being satisfied this morning would be to eat faster than the bottomless pit sitting at my kitchen table; I was prepared.

He hung up as I finished and my curiosity got the best of me.

“Who was that?”

“Nicky.”

One of my older cousins. He was four years our senior and hated using the phone, so it must have been important.

“What did he want? Did you mention that I want my movie back? He’s had it for over a month.”

“He’s on his way over. Said something about hitting the jackpot.”

I stiffened; this wasn’t good. Nick liked to tinker, was always trying to rebuild something or make it better; more power was definitely his motto. He was always elbow deep in some kind of grease and looking for bargains.

It had to be, The Yard.

“I’m not going out there; you two can do this on your own.” I grumbled, rescuing the bacon before it was burnt to a crisp. “That place gives me the creeps.”

He instantly knew what I was talking about and chuckled as he stood. Without asking, he went to the cupboard and pulled down two plates for breakfast.

“How do you know it has anything to do with the yard?”

The look I gave him would have killed lesser people, people who weren’t immune to it. Bishop had been receiving it for years, his immunity was impenetrable.

“Could it be anything else?”

-- -- -- -- --

Nick showed up just after we ate, voicing his disgust that there were no leftovers for him, and hauled us both into his truck. I didn’t miss the assortment of tools that he had strewn in the back; it made me nervous that our destination was one I didn’t want to go to.

“Nick, where are we going?”

His grin was cheeky, but he didn’t reply as he threw the truck in reverse and pulled out of our driveway. Only once we were moving, did he reply.

“The Yard.”

“No! Please.” I begged, loosing all sanity. “Not the yard, anywhere but there.”

He shook his head.

“Sorry, the yard it is.”

He wouldn’t be swayed, I knew that by the tone he had used. Huffing loudly, I crossed my arms over my chest and leant back against the seat. His truck was only a standard cab, so the three of us had to crowd on the bench seat in the front. Bishop put his arm around the back to give me more room, but his grin was irritating.

“Come on, James. Don’t be such a pussy.”

Now the yard is exactly that. It’s an abandoned bone yard. A bone yard, for people who are unfamiliar with the term, is a collection of old and abandoned vehicles. There used to be a car wrecker, who lived just outside our little community, but he’d died and left his property to a son that never came around.

Nobody had every seen him, but people kept dropping their old vehicles there. It was spooky, and just a scary place to be, but obviously that fact had escaped the notice of the two males with me.

“I’d just like to point out that what we’re about to do is trespassing and very illegal.” I stated flatly, still not amused. “If we get caught, we’ll go to prison where they’ll sell me for cigarettes and you two will become bitches to a big bearded man named Bubba.”

Nick gave me a grin.

“Do I look worried? I run way faster than you do.”

Bishop joined in his egging.

“We brought you for bait.”

My green eyes widened, not liking their teasing when this particular place was involved.

“I’m staying in the truck.”

My cousin chuckled softly and turned onto the back road. It was heavily rutted and not used often, making the ride bumpy. I kept bouncing into Bishop, but he didn’t seem to mind overly much and didn’t say a word about it.

Fear started to build up as the first skeletal vehicle appeared on the edge of the road, followed by another. Soon there was a sea of them, filling a space that had once been a large field. Nick pulled the truck to a stop in the middle, next to what appeared to be a new arrival in the bone yard.

All the newer vehicles had been dumped in the center, the space having gotten smaller and smaller over the years. It appeared to be a newer model Ford that had my cousin’s attention, the same make as his truck. I scowled at him as he opened his door and began crawling out.

“We’re here for that stupid truck you’re fixing up, aren’t we?” I demanded, slithering out behind him while Bishop went out his door.

“I happen to know for a fact that the starter on this baby is in pristine condition.” Agreed my cousin, pulling out his tools. “Whereas the one in my truck is shoddy at best.”

I cast a glance around all the skeletal remains, feeling the hair on my arms stand up as a cool wind broke free of the trees. Creepy, was an understatement. It felt like thousands of eyes were glaring down on me going, Sandra Jamieson this is against the law and we know what you’re doing.

“How long will it take?” my voice barely came out a squeak, alerting Bishop and Nick to my nervousness.

Bishop’s eyes actually filled with concern.

“You’re really scared of this place, huh?”

Concern was nice; maybe he’d talk Nick into leaving.

“She’s just a baby, come on and help me.”

Nope, there was no talking him out of it. Why he couldn’t just get his brother to come out here, my other cousin Blair, and help him was beyond me. Dragging me and Bishop into his illegal affairs seemed to get him off somehow.

“If I get arrested, I’m rolling over on you.” I hissed, following them to the mangled Ford truck. “I’ll tell them everything, right down to that distiller you’ve got down at Mason’s creek.”

He snorted and slithered underneath the truck, only his legs sticking out. Bishop shrugged and went under with him, leaving me alone to face the accusing eyes of nothingness.

“Keep an eye out for anyone.”

The order had me stiffening, suddenly I was an accessory. If the cops showed up and found me, I couldn’t roll over on anybody, I was going to jail. What if the son showed up? His father was known to be crazy, that’s why his mother had taken the boy and left, what if he was like that too?

Taking a deep breath, I let it out slowly. Calm down, this is stupid. Nobody is going to care if we come and take a starter from a vehicle that has no front end. Quit overreacting.

A hand landed on my shoulder.

“Danger, Will Robinson, Danger.”

“James, if you’re not going to quit being stupid just go sit in the truck.” Grunted my cousin, obviously working on a bolt or something. He couldn’t say I didn’t try to warn him.

Turning my head slightly and looking up, I nearly fainted. The man standing behind me had to have been close to Nick’s age. His black hair was short and his tie blew in the wind. Grey eyes like icicles and a frown tugging at his lips, he definitely wasn’t happy we were there.

“Hi.” I offered weakly. “Take a wrong turn?”

He didn’t say anything as he flipped open a cell phone and started dialling. Obviously he wasn’t from around here or he’d know that the cell reception was non-existent.

“Nick, we’re in trouble.”

My cousin poked his head out from under the truck and looked, grimacing. He disappeared underneath once more and I could hear them whispering; God, this wasn’t emergency plan number two, was it?

“James, number two.”

Shit burgers.

“Now?” I asked, swallowing heavily. I’d never had to use the emergency plans before, they were a joke. How were we supposed to know what would work?

“Now.”

The man must’ve gotten cell reception because his eyes narrowed on me and he began to speak.

“I’d like to report some trespassers…”

Double shit burgers with cheese. Oh well, if I was going to jail I might as well go with style.

Screaming, I startled him.

“I don’t know you! Quit touching me there!” Kicking him in the shins, he grunted and fell away as Nick and Bishop burst from the far side of the ruined tuck and broke for ours. Nick grabbed me as Bishop tossed the stolen starter in the box of his truck and started it.

“We’re going to jail.” I groaned as I was tossed inside the truck roughly. Bishop’s door shut and we hit the gas, spinning the tires and doing a sharp swinging circle. Shooting like a bullet from, the yard, we left the stunned man behind.

My cousin thought it was hilarious, laughing softly as he sped down the winding trail to escape any pursuit that might have came. There was nothing amusing about what had happened and I began hitting him as he drove.

“Stupid bastard! Now we’re going to jail! Or worse, community service.” I shivered at the thought of scrubbing the grill down at the community center. The last time it had been cleaned, Mary and Joseph were curling there.

“We’re not going to jail.” He snorted. “That had to have been the son and he won’t stay here. Besides, my license plate was covered and he never really saw our faces.” He paused to give me a sheepish look. “Just yours.”

I groaned.

“Alright, I’ll move to Mexico and change my name to Consuella Machos Grandees Bosom.”

Bishop snorted.

“You’d have to have big—”

I punched him in the arm, silencing anything else that came. There was nothing wrong with the size of my, ladies, I just didn’t choose to flaunt them.

Growling, I put my hands over my face.

“We’re in such trouble.” Then a thought occurred to me. Eyes shooting open and hands dropping, I looked at Nick in a stunned fashion; much akin to a goldfish. “You used my name.”

He frowned.

“What?”

“You, used, my name!” I shouted. “You said, James if you’re going to keep acting stupid, go sit in the truck!”

He snorted.

“So I did.”

That’s it; I was definitely going to jail. All that man had to do was ask around town who a girl named James could be and he’d find me. They’d break down the door and haul me off to prison, and I couldn’t even plead insanity or blackmail. I’d kicked the man, for crying out loud.

“Please, take me home. I’d like to write up a will and go over my defence case before they come. Are they lenient on people who represent themselves?”

Memo to self: find a good lawyer.

--

Author Babble:

Hello again, been a while since I've posted anything new and this is definitely new. A little different for me but I decided to dabble into the world of the unknown. It's written in a different point of view than I normally deal with, was quite tricky for me but I think I got over it pretty good. This is just kinda a writing doodle, so if I don't get too many reviews and people don't tell me if they really like it, I'm just gonna scrape the idea. Anyways, I hope you like it because I find it quite humorous and enjoy writing it. Thanks again!!