Who: Jake Sobieski, OPEN to any high school student/teacher/whoever. When: Thursday afternoon, right after school. Where: High school parking lot. What: Jake is heading home and his car won't start. HIS BABY! What to do? Rating: PG-13 for language, for now. Notes: Please come and laugh at Jake, the mechanically-gifted kid, for having a dead car. Or, you know, offer to help him, but the first one would be funnier. :D
Next week started off the baseball season for real. Not that "for real" meant anything on this island -- the school was too small to even get into a conference, and they never had any real games. The competitive side of Jake didn't even know why he bothered sticking around the sports teams sometimes, when the only thing at stake was a few games against his own teammates. Still, that was something to look forward to now that spring was here. He had a date (oh, man, bad choice of words -- an appointment, then) with one of his teammates to get together at four and toss a ball around, get limbered up for the season, but first he had to get home.
The minute the bell rang he was out of there, dumping all his textbooks from his locker into his backpack in one fell swoop, so his mom wouldn't nag him about not bringing his books home. As long as he looked like he was doing his homework, that was all that really mattered. Jake loped out to his car, his pride and joy, an '03 Chevy he'd bought and fixed up and painted a crazy shade of medium electric blue all on his own. Sure, there were some minor quirks, but when she was running at her best, his darling had the sort of horsepower that should be illegal on a tiny little island like this one. Plus, the little problems meant that he had plenty to tinker with when he was bored, and that was great. He hopped in, tossing his books into the backseat, turned the key in the ignition, and... nothing. Seriously, nothing, not even the heartbreaking rrr-rrr-rrr sound that was his baby's engine trying and failing to turn over, like she did sometimes on cold winter mornings. He blinked and tried again, getting nothing but the click of his key in the ignition. There was no sign of life from the engine at all.
"Motherfucker," Jake swore, and banged his palms against the wheel in frustration. "C'mon, stupid, work." Third time was not the charm, apparently, as his baby still sat dead in the water when he turned the key again. "Shit," he muttered, and got out, going around to throw open the hood and see what the trouble was. Bracing the hood up, he leaned inside. The guts of his car looked like a total mess to anyone but Jake -- this was the first car he'd ever put together on his own, and he knew his baby like the back of his hand. At least, he thought he did, but with her not starting up... well, whatever the problem was, it wasn't obvious on first glance. It was probably somewhere between the ignition and the battery, but where exactly, he didn't know quite yet. He wiped his hands on his jeans and leaned into the car to inspect the terminal connections, swearing under his breath all the while.