1The Green Hornet just may have been one of the best movies I've ever seen. Wait, no. It was.

I'm hooked.

I'm in love.

I want to marry Britt and Kato.

And I'm on a mission to finish all Green Hornet episodes ever. The theme song is my ringtone. The comic books and DVDs WILL be mine. No spoilers right now, though, as much as I'd want to continue ranting about it. Onto the chapter I will go.

Kyle's POV

The first thing I spotted when entering my average home was Sadie lounging on the couch with a pound of pudding on her lap and The Outsiders playing on TV. Her obsession with that movie was almost enough for me to dislike it and her obsession with Johnny Cade was already enough to me to dislike him. I kicked off my shoes by the door, hung my backpack on the nail, and allowed myself to fall directly on top of Sadie's feet which happened to be lazily lounging on the cushions.. She grimaced at my actions and slid them out from under me, using them as a weapon to kick my shoulder lightly.

"What are you doing here? I thought you were at basketball practice."

"I cancelled it for today. Too much commotion on the damn new kids. Tuesday sent them a freaking surround sound system and I can only assume Reggie is over there right now." My arms folded across my chest as a matter of frustration as my back found it's back to the large red balls of cotton and fabric. "I'll bet you they're not even that great. Like that one Mormon kid that moved here in third grade. What are you watching?" I was very fully aware of what she was watching but I was sure Sadie didn't like my ranting so I twisted it to a subject she would enjoy replying to, instead of the usual, 'Hmm,' sound she made when I spoke about matters she didn't care about.

"I liked Gary," Sadie defended. "He was kind of cute. And you know what I'm watching," Her face turning to smile widely at Johnny Cade's quivering face, "Besides, they're twins. How many twins do we have in South Park? None. Quite a few siblings but no twins. Maybe they're joined at the hip or something."

I was going to reply in a non-tranquil state how they certainly didn't seem fine to me for interrupting my practice but my mind took the a different turn as realization struck me that Sadie was very well aware at the new arrival yet she had made no effort to join the rest and greet them. "Wait, why aren't you going ape shit for them?"

"Like you said, it's no big deal. I'll meet them when I want to. Maybe they're as shy Laura and Lloyd and will crack at all the attention they're getting. Remember when they were new? I brought them roses and Lloyd thought I was crushing on Laura. That was hilarious."

As of now, Sadie was in her own little world of comical memories but I simply tuned her out and lazily rolled my head back toward the television just in time to hear Johnny whisper the worlds, "Stay golden, Ponyboy."

Laura's POV

"I don't see why we have to go say hi," Llody muttered, dragging him feet on the snow as we headed down Tucker street. "I'm missing Hairspay. The original. Not the crappy one with Zac Efron. Do you know how many times they show that one on TV? Not that many." I looked up at my older brother, who stood much higher than I did with a mixture of my small stature and his out-of-control growth spurts. No one would ever believe he was a mere four years older.

I said, "Hey, I'm missing Desperate Housewives, too, but it's only the polite thing to do. I only hope Tuesday didn't give them a private jet like she did with us. Besides, we're going to New York in the Summer. You can see it then."

Lloyd pouted.

"Fine. How do you know where they live?"

"It's the only house with a moving van. Just look for one." He grunted in a forceful tone and sped up the momentum in his steps. I did as well to catch up with him. Once we entered Baywood circle, I looked on the second house to the right and my smile grew twice as large. I pointed at the massive orange moving van. "L-Look. There it is."

"Gre-eat," Lloyd said but before taking off towards the house, he bent down and retrieved a small rock covered in solid ice. My eyes grew twice as large as I watched him cautiously rub down the ice with his gloves until there was nothing but a piece of charcoal lying in the center of his palm.

"Lloyd! Y-You're not going to throw that at them, are you?"

All I needed was his bewildered look to tell me I was mistaken. "What? No! I just wanted a nice rock."

"It looks more like charcoal to me," I muttered, eying the dark shape. Lloyd could be so spontaneous at times. As much alike as we were, he was slightly more charismatic than I could be. If someone messed with my friends, I'd be mad and probably say something I'd later regret but Lloyd doesn't stop and think before performing anything drastic. He slides on the brass knuckles he carries around his jeans (I can see the bulge in his pockets right now) and makes them scamper away. It's sometimes scary to watch, yet flattering to have such a great big brother.

A loud thud chased away my thoughts. "Oh!" someone gasped and our heads snapped in unison towards the unfamiliar voice. It was a girl on the front steps of her home, mouth gaping mournfully at the splattered pile of clothes. I could clearly see why she was so devastated; the original shade of each clothing had switched darker from the contact with the frozen water.

Lloyd tossed his precious little rock over his shoulder and raced to the scene. I watched him take off for a moment but snapped to my senses and followed after him, obviously not as fast, though. "Hey!" Lloyd called as he jogged like a champion with his own theme music to the scene. He bent down and began gathering all the belongings and wringing the cold water out of them.

"Oh, hello," the girl replied. Her eyes were impressed. Perhaps from the hicks outside of town, she didn't expect people to be so hospitable. "Y-You don't have to do that. I've got it."

"Naw, it's okay," Lloyd protested, squeezing the liquid out of a pair of black jeans. I took a good look at the pair. They seemed somewhat expensive, along with the rest of her clothes. She was from Miami, no? I could have sworn Kenny mentioned to me once that Miami was as ghetto as his neighborhood. So the fancy clothes were quite uncanny to my suspicion. Perhaps Butters information was wrong. "I'm Lloyd. This is my sister, Laura. I hear you're the new kid."

"Hello," I quietly greeted but kept my head and voice low.

"So has everyone else. You're not the first to be here. Two boys named Reggie and Chad were here earlier and some man in a tux delivered me a surround sound from a, um, Tuesday Acqua? Isn't that the name of a day in a week?"

"It is," I replied, giggling at her response. "Tuesday can be very straightforward. I'm surprised she hasn't come by yet."

It was now I took a very close look at her. She was a few inches taller then me, which still created much jealousy, and thin, light brown hair that went in waves down to her waist. Her skin was very dark. Not black at all, yet immensely tan. Large brown eyes went with the rest of her thin, noodle-like shape. And when she spoke, I believe it was a Spanish accent I detected?

"We haven't asked you your name yet," Lloyd said, folding the last damp clothing and placing it in the box. "What is it?"

"I'm Christy Clearwater," she responded, beaming once more at my brother. However, her mouth twisted when Lloyd gripped the handle ends of the box and began leading it inside. "No, no, no!" she called out, getting in his way before he could enter. "You've done enough, truly. I'll take it now."

"Are you sure?"

She gave him a light smile in reassurance. "Yes, yes, I'm sure." Sending her one more unsure look, Lloyd bent down from his high frame and handed her the box. Her skinny arms wobbled from the weight and, I assume giving up, she can tossed it to the side. It landed with a loud THUD, kicking up dust and dirt into the atmosphere. "I'll have my brother carry it in later. He's much more, um, stronger. I guess."

"Oh, really?" I inquired. My previous load of sweets gave me a little more perseverance in asking people questions. "What's his name?"

She said, "Nathan. But I'd advice you not to talk to him."

"Why is that?"

"Because look at you. You're adorable." My cheeks became a strawberry red. "He'll want to hit on you, no doubt." She look at Lloyd. "And you look like you don't want your little sister being molested by my retard brother, would you?"

Lloyd's face became disgruntled, as if he was playing out the very scene of him massacring this Nathan character like a movie in his mind. Turning and head and spitting past his lips onto the snow, he gave me a hesitant look. A very familiar hesitant look. It revealed that he wanted to go and he wanted to go now. Not wanting to argue with his questioning, I gave Christy an appreciative smile and said, "Thank you. I think we need to go now but it was nice talking to you. Will we see you in school tomorrow?"

"I believe so. We'll see how settled in I am by then."

"Alright. Take care," Lloyd said. His oversized shoes kicked off a large chunk of snow, sending it scattering in every direction like a miniature white explosion. I followed.

Nathan's POV

The name's Nathan. There's nothing special about it. It doesn't have some special foreign meaning that positively or negatively represents my personality. It's just Nathan Clearwater and nothing else. I personally wouldn't have it any other way because I'd most likely turn out to be gay or emo or some sort of meeting in between of the two. Watch as I shudder at the thought. If you must know anything about me, it's that I hate doing things for people. It urks me to know that something or someone is depending on me and if I can't do it right, well, it's all my fault, aint it?

There's not much wrong you can do with picking up groceries, right? Walk in, gather the things on the list, pay for the, walk out, get on with life but you're wrong. Very fucking wrong. They could not have the thing you're looking for and when you tell your mom that, she doesn't believe you. Or the line could be extremely long and your mom gets ticked off, claiming you stopped to hit on a random chick in the streets (which may or may not be true.) Or the product could have cost more than what your darling mother believed and she accuses you of spending it on condoms or French fries or all of the above.

There's no justice in life, I tell you.

And why she keeps sending me out to do shit for her, I'll never know. In my left hand was a thick leather steering wheel belonging to a run down green chevy pick-up truck and in my right was a crumpled up sticky note that had lost it's stick, holding the grand list of supplies.



Dog food

Hamburger beef

Gorilla glue

Pillow covers

Double A batteries

Can't beat that sexy list, not by a long shot. I identified the small messy handwriting in the corner as mine. It read:

French fries and condoms

I don't blame myself for feeling the urge to add it in. She doesn't want me dying of lack of sodium chloride and getting a girl pregnant, does she? Lord forbid the second one occurred. Using my fingers to crumble up the sticky note, I adjusted my mirror and relaxed the arm I loved most. There was a dark blue Volkswagen riding at a first speed behind me. I was that if there was another alone for her to use, she would have taken it as a chance to pass right by me. Mind you, I'm not a slow person and would kill to move faster but this God forsaken pick-up only goes so fast. I shouldn't complain. It's my first car. It's name is Britt Reives but it didn't take too long for me to address it as, "that lousy piece of shit car."

My entire body jolted up in the air suddenly. The car did, as well, which became the cause of the impact my head had with the car ceiling. A few sputters from the tank was all it took for my eyes to widen. I slammed my oversized foot on the break. It stopped. My blue pupils wandered around the engines from my seats and nothing seemed wrong; a full tank, long mileage, nothing out of place. But the smell of burnt rubber still lingered.

This shit, I can't believe it. I slammed the car door and followed to the engine where I lifted the hood. There was no smoke or anything else wrong, yet this lousy piece of shit car still refused to budge.

"Agh!" was the animalistic noise that escaped my clenched teeth as I slammed the car hood back down. Then it hit me. Not really but I could feet it; one shoulder higher than the other. I looked down. The car is slanted and definitely not as high as it was when I pulled out of the driveway. Upon this realization, my blinded anger died down and I followed the frame of my surrounding. It's snow, trees, and a poorly paved road. Not even a house from a distance.

A car door slammed shut.

"Hey!" a voice called. My eyebrows fly high up. It was obviously feminine, yet low in a sort of way that told myself to be prepared. The upper area of my body shifted to the right, where what I was sure had to be a girl making my way. Maybe I'm exaggerating here. It was clearly a girl, but she looked so...different.

Thick brown hair that fell mere inches past her shoulders. It wasn't that hair or eyes or face that bothered me - tossing away the growling expression she possessed - but the clothes. Never had I seen a girl wear such careless clothing. For a body so thin and easy to show off, she covered it up with a gradually large hoodie and baggy dark blue jeans. Her fists were furled in a way I had them commonly when getting ready to hit someone. Luckily for me, I stood a proud two extra feet taller and even for a girl so, well, unfamiliar could never be able to hurt me.

"What the fuck are you doing in the middle of the road, asshole? School is hell for me and I'd rather be at home and not standing in the middle of the streets with a wannabe jock."

I didn't know this girl so it wasn't a secret I had not grow accustomed on what to answer when she spoke. My fingers found it's way to the top of my shaggy, ear-length black hair and rubbed it back and forth. "Now, I don't believe you have the right to talk to me like that, young lady. Why don't you back our your little blue car and take the other turn instead, hm?" My famous shit-eating grin appeared as with a more evidential anger in her tone.

"I don't have time to go the long way. Move this piece of shit truck. Now."

"Or what?" Teeth showing through my smirk.

"Or I'll get rid of the rest for you." Menacing, probably, but not convincing. On the other hand, I hadn't known her for more than two minutes, which I didn't believe was enough time to understand which was convincing and which was a playful threat. Judging from her looks, I doubt this chick would ever play around. However, I did, and it sure was fun to do it with her.

"Try me, then. I dare you," I said, scooting in closer to her small stature. Her dark eyes narrowed. And she turned on her heels to the car. This moment of victory officially belongs to Nathan Clearwater. Just as I had finished reciting a speech in the back of my noggin, the girl comes back out of her car. With a bat. And my stomach flops.

"Move," she growled, heading directly for the drivers window.

"Wait-wait-wait!" I scrambled in her way and blocked the window just as she was about to hit. "Don't do that! I know it's shitty but I'm the only dude out of my friends who has a car and you see the seats in here? They're leather. Glass cuts leather. I'd rather not have my toes getting stuck in holes when I'm doing a girl in the front seat. Hole covered leather is not attractive!"

The girl reminisced my speech with a disdained expression and eyes burning right through me, digging a hole at the window. I'll bet she was playing out a movie in her mind where the bat made such an impact with the window, Charles Manson's eye twitched ever so slightly in the thousands of miles away he lay in. But her reoccurring daggers followed down to the bottom of the truck. They lifted - just a little bit.

"Your tires," she said and I mentally let out a sigh of relief. Then I reviewed what she spoke.

"My tires?"

"They're flat."

"Oh..." Moments after that. "Wait, what?" I abruptly tore from my position and stood a considerate distance from view of my previous white and black tires. Sure enough, the front one was deflated and dead whilst the others were eagerly wondering when, oh when, would they be running again. "Nooo!" I wailed. My poor three hundred dollar tire - the only decent feature out of the entire poorly imaged truck - was ruined. It would take months to gain the money up for a replacement. I'd have to walk to my new school. Walk.

The girl laughed, "Better call a tow truck, dick." In just a few short moments, she was backing out of the deserted road and taking the last right her, flashing her licence with sharpie written in capital letters: CHARLIE WHITE.

This chapter was weak. Didn't like it. Total filler. But hello there, Laura, Lloyd, and Charlie. You are finally introduced to this story. I couldn't leave Ms. White out of here; she's too badass.

No, I'm not ignoring this story. I actually want to updated, surprisingly. I'm just busy with school, video games, and watching the entire Green Hornet series. Is there a Green Hornet archive on here? Oh, please, God, tell me there is.


P.S. I will be using more OCs in the next chapter so don't worry if I haven't used yours yet. I will. Trust me. -heart-