Who: Elodie and Jasper When: Late Evening, Sunday, October 15th Where: Respective yards Status: Complete
Elodie was not impressed with Point Pleasant. It was cold and claustrophobic and she didn’t like the smell of the salt in the air. Her grandma’s house was even smaller, a two bedroom split level which put Elodie in the downstairs den on a sofa bed. Her mom swore that they would get a place of their own once she was ‘up on her feet again’, but Elodie knew better. Tamara Hunt would cling to this free ride as long as she could and Elodie’s bed would probably remain in storage until G-ma Monroe kicked them out or kicked the bucket.
She also felt like she had moved to the far corner of the world, even though it was just the far corner of Maine, which was like, the far corner of the country, which might as well have been the world. She was farther away from her dad, which she didn’t really mind since he was a dick, but it also meant she was father away from Wes, and that sucked. Elodie had texted him a few times already that day with no response, but that wasn’t unusual. Wes was picky about which of her texts he’d actually respond to.
Her “room” was partially unpacked, which essentially meant that the boxes were open and she had more or less shoved her clothes into the tiny dresser her grandma was letting her use. Elodie hadn’t brought a ton from New York, only because she hadn’t had a ton to bring. Clothes, some books and pictures. Three boxes, tops. Pretty pathetic, but it was always beneficial to pack light. Who knew when she’d have to up and bail.
Her mom had gone to bed already, and her grandma was inside at the kitchen table in her nightgown, drinking some clear liquor and working on a crossword puzzle in the newspaper. Elodie had slipped out the back door to sit down on the stairs leading out into the backyard where she lit a cigarette. No smoking in the house had been rule number one. Rule number two had been no fucking boys anywhere but Elodie’s own room. Rule number three? Nobody was to touch the Gazette’s crossword puzzle but her grandma. Easy enough rules to follow. Elodie couldn’t even remember the last time she touched an actual newspaper, let alone felt any desire to complete a crossword puzzle.
The air still smelled like rain from earlier, and Elodie could see where the top of her grandma’s rickety patio table was flooded and slowly dripping down the sides to the wet concrete that passed for a patio below. Was it raining back in New York? She supposed she could check, but she’d left her phone downstairs on her “bed”. Fuck. Smoking was boring when she was left alone with her thoughts. She could talk herself into just about anything when she didn’t have something to distract her. Like… the mild squeaky sound of another door opening. Bringing the cigarette up to her lips, Elodie watched the next door neighbor push open the screen door into the back and two dogs came running out. She could tell the guy wasn’t the older one she’d seen a couple days ago after she and her mom arrived. That guy had looked permanently constipated and decidedly unchatty. Not that perpetual unfriendliness had ever deterred her, but Elodie had been trying to get used to the idea that this was her home now. Ugh, god, it sucked. She stared at the guy across the lawn, trying to get a better look at him. Brother? Son? Grumpy Neighbor hadn’t looked old enough to have a kid that old but, like, Teen Mom was a real thing even before MTV made it popular, so it was possible. Since she couldn’t see terribly well, Elodie stood up from the stair she had been sitting on and walked across the small lawn to the fence separating their yards, her shoes squelching in the wet grass.
Unaware that he had a waiting audience next door, Jasper had let the dogs out since Gavin wasn’t home when he’d gotten back from work. Max and Rude didn’t seem in bathroom distress, they just wanted to romp around in the wet yard. Jasper didn’t care much, that was what the mud room and the dog towels were for. He leaned in the back doorway, watching them and lighting up a cigarette. It was kind of chilly out, but the house needed the fresh air. He’d worked most of the day, and when he’d left the Shack, he’d been intensely grateful that he’d had an early shift. There was a fog settling in, and that made Jasper paranoid. It probably made lots of people paranoid. But so far it was still light, and it didn’t make him feel weird or anything, so he was dealing with it.
Jasper didn’t realize someone was in the yard next door until a person stood up and started toward the fence. It looked like a girl-person, though he couldn’t make out much about her with the back porch light on and in his eyes. There was an old lady who lived there and sometimes complained to Gavin about the dogs barking in the back yard, but that was it as far as Jasper knew. Maybe just a visiting relative or something. He kept smoking and squinting at the girl, not one to talk first in neighborly situations. Maybe she just wanted to look at the dogs ... who were running up to that side of the fence, tails wagging, to investigate the stranger. Rude barked once or twice. “Hey,” Jasper said to him sharply. “Hush.”
Elodie grinned at the dogs and wondered if they were the kind to snap at strangers, or if they just wanted to be loved on and petted. Kind of like people. The fence wasn't super tall, but she was short, so Elodie slipped her cigarette between her lips and gripped the top of the fence, hoisting herself up and shoving the toes of her sneakers against the wood to keep herself in place. She let one hand dangle down so the dogs could smell her and see she wasn't possessed by anything evil. "Hello puppies," Elodie murmured around the cigarette in her mouth. Their tails were going bananas, so she took that as a good sign. "I know he's an American bulldog," Elodie said before carefully pulling the cigarette from her lips to talk properly. She was balanced rather precariously against the fence, but didn't think she'd fall yet. "What's the other one?"
The girl wasn’t shying away from the dogs, so that was one point in her favor. Jasper straightened up from against the door frame and walked to the edge of the porch, several feet away from the fence, to call them back or grab them if they started going nuts or something. They were all right around strangers out around town, but the yard was their territory. Max and Rude were nothing but friendly though, Max waiting until Rude had sniffed the girl’s hand first before he had a more tentative go at it. “He’s a pitbull,” Jasper answered with a touch of amusement. “Good eye though. That one’s Max, and that’s Rude.” He pointed them out for her, just in case she was curious.
Elodie wasn't afraid of dogs unless they were growling and had their teeth bared. Then it was time to back up. Again... kind of like people. She figured if they were going to bite her they would have by now, but she kept her hand low for the other dog, Max, not minding his interest. Elodie raised a brow at the guy but then realized 'Rude' was the name of the dog, not him commenting on what she was doing. A laugh escaped her and she rubbed Max behind the ear before jumping back down onto the ground, her shoes squishing again in the wet grass. "I don't know who I feel more sorry for, Rude, for being called Rude, or Max, for not having a name as badass as Rude. It's like when your parents give you a super normal name like Susan and then name your brother Battle Axe Hammer." Elodie brought her cigarette back to her lips and studied Jasper over the fence. "You live there?" she asked then, motioning to the house before exhaling the smoke.
Jasper was so used to Rude’s name that he sometimes forgot it meant something else too, and he chuckled over what the girl said. She obviously wanted to make some conversation, and he didn’t like to be loud unless he was mad, so he ambled forward off the porch and into the grass to approach the fence himself. The dogs thought that was a great idea, going back to romping around him. They usually knew better than to jump, but Jasper felt paws bounce off of his legs a few times. “Pretty sure they came with those names from the shelter, Dad just didn’t change ‘em,” he explained to the girl, taking a drag off of his own cigarette as he got a better look at her. “But yeah. Kinda recently. You live there?” He nodded over at the house on her side of the fence, cocking an eyebrow. He was pretty sure he’d never seen her before, and in this small of a town, that meant something.
"Oh, that's disappointing," Elodie said with a sigh, watching the dogs try to pounce at the guy when he stepped off the back porch. "I would've given your dad some bonus points for coming up with a name like Rude." She rested her arms over the top of the fence and glanced back briefly at her grandma's house. "Yeah, kinda recently too. Like... three days ago recently. I think. What the fuck day is it now?" Elodie squinted into the night for a second before nodding. "Yeah, three days. Thursday. Four days if you count today, but I never count the day that's actually happening, since it's not over yet, right? Ask me tomorrow and it'll be four days. My grandma lives there. Jacqueline Fucking Monroe. Crossword puzzle extraordinaire and human vodka bottle. I saw your dad the other day, walking them." She motioned to the dogs with her cigarette. "I think it was your dad, unless you've got an older brother. When'd you guys move in?"
One of Jasper’s brows crept upward a bit as she rambled about her day-counting system. But hell, who was he to judge? People rambled about weird minutiae all the time. Jacqueline Fucking Monroe, he had to assume that was the old lady he’d seen here and there in the house. It wasn’t like Gavin ever talked to or about his neighbors, so Jasper had never known her name. Didn’t sound like she was too sociable either though. He chuckled over the idea that Gavin could be his older brother, and shook his head as he took another drag off his cigarette. “Yeah, that’s my dad,” he said, shrugging a shoulder. “Had me when he was young and stupid, so he still looks pretty young I guess. He’s lived here for a few years, I just moved in with him like ... a couple weeks ago. I’m not gonna count days for you though, you’re gonna have to deal with vagueness.” He tilted her a little grin.
"Vagueness is fine. Vagueness is good, even. Let's me use my imagination, and that's always more interesting than the truth," Elodie said, taking another quick pull from her cigarette as she studied him. "Broken home, though, huh? That sucks, unless your parents were shit together, in which case, it's probably good. Or your mom died, which sucks again, unless she was a terrible, horrible person and you're better off. Either way. But yeah, your dad scowls a lot, I noticed. Like..." She furrowed her brows, like she was deep in thought and deepening her sudden frown. Then her expression smoothed out and she motioned at her face with her dwindling cigarette. "Like that. I've only seen him a few times, walking the dogs or coming home late or whatever, but his expression like, never changes ever." Grinning, Elodie tilted her head. "What's your name? He had to give you that, right? Didn't just pick you up from the shelter."
Jasper had to laugh at her mimicry of his dad. Yeah, that looked like Gavin, all right. “See, there’s subtle changes in the lines up here that mean different things,” he said, furrowing his own brows and gesturing to the lines in his forehead. “It’s like reading Braille, you just gotta learn it. It’s cool, you’re still an amateur, you’ll get there.” She probably wouldn’t, because no way Gavin would talk to a girl this young for any length of time, but it was still funny that somebody had his dad pegged so well just watching him go in and out of the house. Jasper switched his cigarette fingers and offered his right hand over the fence for her to shake. “Jasper Lucas,” he said. “Yes, broken home, and yes, they were super shit together, so ... it’s ultimately a good thing. Not from a shelter as far as I know, but if so they picked well ‘cause people say I look like him. So who are you and what’s your deal?”
Elodie snorted with laughter as Jasper described his dad's expressive forehead, and she nodded, finishing off her cigarette. She had no idea if she would ever utter two words to Jasper's dad, but who really knew? Still, she liked watching him come and go from his place, so maybe if she paid more attention, she would start to notice those subtle facial differences. What else did she have to do around here? "Yeah, I see the similarities. You both have the same forehead, for sure." Elodie reached over and took Jasper's hand to give it a hearty shake. "Fuck, I can't remember the last time someone shook my hand. You're fucking polite. I'm Elodie. " She drew her hand back and flicked her cigarette away with the other. "My deal would be that my parents were shit together too. My dad tried to mutilate my mom, and my mom tried to poison him with bleach, so we kind of ended up here with my grandma. My mom and I. My dad is still back in New York, probably alive." She crossed her fingers on both hands with a broad, hopeful grin. "Are you still in high school? I start tomorrow, I guess and I need to know what I'm getting myself into."
Jasper barked a laugh at the accusation of him being polite, and a bit of ‘ugh stupid’ followed that, because offering Elodie his hand had been more of an impulse than anything. It was probably weird and awkward of him, but whatever. They could shake hands like grown men. He repeated ‘Elodie’ in his head because it was a strange sort of name, and if they were gonna be neighbors and classmates, he might as well learn it. Jasper could already feel Jules not liking him making friends with a new girl, but she would have to learn to deal. Not that he was assuming he and Elodie would be friends just from half a conversation, but whatever. He cocked a brow at her story, because that was a lot to take in, but focused on the questions instead. Fucked up families were fucked up families. “Yeah, I’m a senior,” he answered, taking another drag from his own smoke. “It’s a pretty standard small town high school, I guess. Football is life, everybody knows everybody else’s business, everybody wants to leave town as soon as possible, about a third of them actually will.” He shrugged a shoulder.
"I hate football," Elodie lamented with a sigh. "Shit. Now how am I going to fit in?" And yes, she was being sarcastic, but Jasper seemed like he probably had enough brains to figure that out. She didn't mind it so much that everyone knew everyone's business, because that sounded kind of fun. There had to be something more entertaining than football going on, after all. "Only a third leave?" She wrinkled her nose and brought her hand up toward her mouth only to remember she had finished her cigarette and tossed the butt away already. Fuckity fuck. "That's pretty damn depressing. You'd think if only a third left town after high school this small town wouldn't be so small anymore. Do you plan on leaving when you're done?"
It had been a rough estimate that Jasper pulled out of his ass, but it sounded close enough. He knew so many kids who had plans to escape Point Pleasant once they graduated, but he’d heard enough from his uncles about people their age who had those same plans and were still here. And if people did escape? They tended to come back, it seemed like. Jasper shrugged again over whether it was depressing or not; he just didn’t bother to have those kinds of dreams for himself. Less disappointment that way. He wasn’t getting out of this town, he was pretty sure. College definitely wasn’t in the picture. “Nah, probably not,” he said, not really comfortable elaborating for some stranger over a fence. “What are you into? Besides dogs and not-football.” Jasper finished off his cigarette and flicked the butt further into the yard. Maybe he could point her in the direction of some people to be friends with.
Elodie wasn't really in the market for friends. She had never really figured out how to be a friend, or treat the ones she'd had. People seemed to get sick of her shit real fast, and she couldn't exactly blame them. The upside was it never really bothered her much. Wes once said she couldn't help the way she was, so Elodie kind of clung to that as an excuse not to try and change. "What am I into?" She arched a brow and leaned against the fence casually. "That's kind of a loaded question. Or, I guess it could be, depending on how you mean it, 'cause I have to be honest, the only time a dude's ever asked me that is when he wants to fuck me, and you don't look like the type. So do you mean, like, in general? Hobbies and all that shiny stuff? Because I don't really have any. Except I guess getting high and watching people when they don't know I'm watching to see what kind of shit they get up to. Like your dad... or you," she said with a grin. "Or I could be all, normal society shit and say movies and books and hanging with friends, but that's probably less interesting."
“I don’t look like the type to want to fuck you?” Jasper asked first, smirking faintly as he cocked an eyebrow again. Granted, he couldn’t see all of her very well, but in his experience pretty much any dude wanted to fuck any girl who looked halfway decent, and Elodie did. Unless she had some club foot or was super fat everywhere but her head, shoulders, and arms, but he doubted that. Hell, some guys were into that. Or maybe she’d just meant he didn’t look like the type to ask. Which meant he was going soft in his old age or whatever. “But yeah, like in general. You could be a volleyball star or some shit for all I know.” Getting high and watching people sounded like his type of thing though, so maybe they would get along. “Cool though, I’m one of the burnouts too, so I can like, introduce you around and shit.” Not that Jasper had a lot of close friends, but there was a crowd he could hang with in school, and that was all that mattered right now in his life. “And hook you up with weed if you need any.”
"It's dark," Elodie explained with a shrug. "But you don't look super skeevy, so like, I didn't figure you for the type who ask me what kind of sex stuff I was into after talking to me for only twenty minutes or whatever. I could be wrong, though! Maybe when the sun is up and I get a better look at you, I'll change my mind." Honestly, she could see him just fine and he looked normal to her. But still non-skeevy. It was impossible not to snort at the thought of being a volleyball player. "I am the most unathletic person you'll ever meet. Unathletic. Inathletic? Unathletic. Whatever. No, I do sports. I think I look more like a burned out child actor? It's all in the eyes. Beaten down by life and addiction." Elodie pushed up on her toes again to get a better look at the dogs still romping around in the backyard. "Yeah, but cool, I was kind of dreading having to find someone who could hook me up. Wasn't sure tiny towns like this even knew what weed was. What're you into? Besides smoking." Because if she was going to go out and get into trouble, Jasper was probably the person who would know the best places to go that didn't require school spirit.
Jasper supposed it was a good thing that he didn’t look skeevy. Some people might’ve disagreed with her on that point, but hey, good first impressions and all. He’d been known to say some skeevy shit to some girls, but only when he felt like they deserved the discomfort. He listened to Elodie chatter on, thinking vaguely about lighting up another cigarette since they were just standing there, but he resisted the urge. “You climbed that fence all right for being unathletic,” he pointed out. He wasn’t going to comment on what she looked like, that was always dangerous ground. “And no way, getting high is pretty much the only thing to do in this town.” Besides get laid and get harassed by creepy shit, but he wasn’t about to say that out loud. “Smoking, working on my car, partying, video games, that boring kinda shit,” he answered with a faint chuckle. “I work a lot. Trying to graduate. The usual.”
Elodie grinned and tapped the top of the fence her hands. "You've got to know how to climb fences when you're running from Satan." She was craving another cigarette too - she usually liked to have them when she was talking to people - but her cigarettes were in the house. She hadn't really planned on talking to anyone when she'd come outside, but some surprises were good surprises. Resting her chin on the top of the fence, Elodie raised her brows as Jasper ticked off a list of what he liked to do, and it sort of sounded like stuff she'd do, except for working on her car, since she didn't have one. Her grandma had told her she could probably walk anywhere she wanted do if she wasn't a lazy asshole, but Elodie sort of considered herself a lazy asshole, so she wasn't looking forward to the unnecessary exercise. "What kind of car do you have?" she asked. "What'd you mean working on it? Is it a fixer upper?"
Running from Satan? Jasper was starting to think this girl was a little weird. Not that that was always a bad thing. Weird people could be really entertaining. He smiled reflexively when she asked about his car, because he really did love that thing. Recent trauma aside, it was pretty much his favorite place to be. “It’s a ‘79 Chevy Malibu,” he told her, half-sure she would have no idea what that meant, but he was going to tell her anyway. “It’s got a 305 engine in it, V8. But nah, it wasn’t in really bad shape when I got it, but it needed a little work. My uncle’s a mechanic, me and him and just tinkering, mostly. Upgrading shit.” Jasper gave a little chuckle and shrugged. “It’s somethin’ to do.” He did like mechanics, how everything fit together and had a purpose, and if you had the right tools and parts, you could fix what was broken. It was a small bit of control he didn’t have elsewhere. “You’ll hear it, if you haven’t already,” he couldn’t help but add.
Weird was probably one of the nicer things Elodie had been called, but she would also be the first to admit that maybe she was weird. Maybe. Or maybe she was normal and everyone else was weird. Who really knew the truth? She had seen his car in the driveway, though she had no idea it was a Chevy, or a Malibu. To her, engines were engines. Her dad's expertise was motorcycles, and even then, Elodie didn't know much about them other than the fact that they were usually loud. "I'm going to guess that a 305 engine is a good engine, and V8 is not a vegetable drink. You're one of those guys who gets boners for classic cars, huh? Not that it's a bad thing. My dad says those cars last longer than the pieces of shit they sell today, blah, blah, blah. I've got a pretty kick ass bike myself. It's from like, 1996 and has a bent tire and a basket on the front. I mean... it's not loud. It's like, ninja silent. You'll never see me coming."
Jasper had to laugh at the last bit, picturing a ninja on a bicycle with a little flower basket and a bell and everything. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he said, smirking. “And yeah, I guess I’m one of those guys. Though like, most guys can get a boner over almost anything, just to let you in on a trade secret.” He glanced around at the dogs, who were getting less rambunctious and just doing rounds of sniffing the boundaries of the yard, it seemed like. They were going to be muddy as fuck. Oh well. “A 305 V8 is a pretty big engine, yeah. Lotta horsepower.” Not that she probably really cared, but Jasper liked to brag about his car, he loved it so much. Elodie’s dad was right, but considering what she’d said about him, Jasper wasn’t going to comment. “I can fix that bent tire for you though, if you want. Make you a faster ninja.”
She barked out a laugh. "Yeah, that's true. They get boners when they sneeze." She had no idea if that was true, but it probably was. It was nature, right? The need to spread their seed and all that. "Oh, a big engine... lots of power. That's definitely a symbol of your cock, for sure. But you can get away with it, because you're what, seventeen, eighteen? It's only sad when you're fifty and whipping around town in a sports car." Elodie liked dicks plenty, but she found it endlessly amusing men's obsession with them. She pushed up on her toes to catch sight of the dogs, and she wished they'd come back over for her to give them a bit more attention. She was getting antsy. "You can fix my bent tire anytime. I may have to upgrade the basket too, check the brakes and all that. It'll definitely needs some ponypower. I don't fuckin' know." Elodie arched a dark brow. "You wanna give the new girl a ride to school tomorrow? That way I can judge the badassery-ness of your car myself. And plus, I won't have to walk, which is like, more important than anything else."
Now who was being skeevy? Talking about his cock and car and all that. He knew she wasn’t being serious so he wasn’t going to say anything about it, Jasper was just amused at the double standard. No way could he talk about this girl’s genitals without sounding like a creepy asshole, but girls got away with whatever they wanted. That was just how the world worked, it seemed like. More importantly, he realized he’d kind of talked himself into a corner when Elodie asked for a ride. He wouldn’t have minded in the slightest if Jules wasn’t part of his life, but now she was and he had to consider it for a moment. Maybe if he sent her a text first, so she would her it from him first instead of any witnesses who ran their mouth to her about a strange girl getting out of his car. Stupid gossip mill. “Yeah I can probably do that,” he told Elodie. “As long as you’re ready by like, eight.” The first bell rang at eight-thirty, and while Jasper was often late, he didn’t want it to be because of some weird girl.
Elodie knew she was being skeevy, and honestly, it rarely bothered her when guys did the same to her. The difference was, she liked to call guys out for it for fun, but found they never did the same to her, which amused her to no end. Sometimes she liked to see how far she could push people until they pushed back. "I can be ready by eight. Don't worry, I'm not gonna start treating you like a taxi cab. But, you know, first day jitters and all." She felt no jitters whatsoever. In fact, Elodie was kind of looking forward to stepping foot into the high school tomorrow. Not to learn, obviously, but for everything else. She pushed up on the fence again, pressing her toes against the wood. "Bye puppies," she called before looking at Jasper and hopping back down to the grass. She was itchy for another cigarette now, and more so to see if her brother texted her back. "You're going to like being my neighbor, promise. I'll be ready and waiting at eight." Maybe earlier, if she woke up in the middle of the night like she did sometimes.
It seemed like this introduction was wrapping up, so Jasper started to slowly back away from the fence. “Nah, I’m not worried. But cool, just come on over to the driveway,” he told Elodie. Having lived in this town his whole life, Jasper had never experienced first-day jitters, besides the usual ‘ugh, people’ feelings that school filled him with, but he guessed he could understand being nervous. New place, new people, all that shit. Whether he ended up liking being her neighbor or not remained to be seen. “Later,” Jasper said. He turned to head back up onto the porch, whistling for Max and Rude. The dogs came barrelling after him, tails wagging, ready to get rubbed down and completely warm again.