Young Loves Song

Chapter 1

               It was a Wednesday night. I pulled up to the church in my father's new 2014 Cadillac CTS5 that had a white pearl paint and he conveniently he let use frequently for mid-week hell, *cough* I mean church, I get easily confused. The "white pearl" paint job shone in the full moon's bright radiance. It looked like a silver wind was walking across a angelic cat's back as I swept into the parking spot, spinning the wheel one handed until we fit snuggly in-between the white, city-issued lines. My sister was fidgeting with the door, trying to open it as soon as I stopped the car, so she could fling out at a supernatural speed, filled with lots of tripping and flying to join her fellow prepubescent, Jesus-loving, make up obsessed mob of young junior high friends. I guess you could say she's popular.

Vivian flipped her long, dirty-blonde hair out of her freckled face as she bolted out the door to the huge church entryway. I threw the keys into my pocket as I slowly followed my sister, slothfully and with half the energy.

Vivian was my 13 year old sister who had just started 7th grade at La Biblia' Prep Middle School, a stern Catholic prep-school north of town. With a name like Vivian, you'd expect a black haired, torn clothed teen, with a face riddled with pissed off expressions and angry sighs. But she was quite the contraire, although she was still a little LOT snarky 24/7, she was a blonde hair, blue eyed goddess, who fortunately for her, was blooming each and every day. She would commonly be mistaken for someone in my grade, and would blush when I had to explain to whomever that she was really 13. She was a hassle a load of the time, but I still swore to protect her with my life, even though she can become the biggest task ever.

The church was enormous; as I have said. The enormous stairwell rested in the middle of the hall. I walked inside with my Ralph Lauren t-shirt, and my letterman jacket lying flat on my broad shoulders that still remained from last season on the swim team this winter. My sister, charisma and all, was already up the one of three long, feet killing, stairs, and down the hallway to the multipurpose room, which was our youth group. I trailed behind feeling like an old man, far behind his toy-craving grandchildren.

"Where had all my joy for this crap gone" I asked myself.

I entered the room, feeling the ecstatic, fake air I had come accustomed to. It was oddly satisfyingly familiar, I can't lie. It was around this time I didn't care too much for Christianity. I mean it wasn't like I had too much sin; I didn't feel I couldn't be forgiven or that ultimate mercy bullshit. I just didn't have time for feeling bad about whatever I did and thought. At my sister Viv's request, we arrived super early so she could chat with her corresponding gossip girls about this week's "unbelievable" drama. I walked over to the game room, when I heard his voice for the first time.

"Hey" he started.

I kept walking knowing the voice was unquestionably directed to someone else. I mind my own business, make my parents happy and go home. That was the drill. It was the plan which I had unknowingly followed for the majority of my life.

"Hey man" he repeated.

I slowly turned around and was greeted by a more then generous smile.

"I don't think we have met, I'm Jay. I just started attending here. I don't really know a lot of people."

"Ok" I thought," I have practiced this, what were all the drills for if not for this moment; all I need to do is just recommend a couple of people that you think are semi-decent people and he'll be off."

"Well you can talk to Chris, our youth group leader, and he can show you around. He's pretty cool." I stated idly.

"Well, I actually wanted to play ping pong, you guys have a pretty epic game room, and I need to master my fast swing." He stated lightheartedly.