Jeromey 2015/09/06(Sun)17:29 No. 667897 ID: d44ee5
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Oralee tossed her  hair over her shoulder, the loose scrunchy barely containing it as it rolled over her tank top straps.

The top was printed with the artwork of a new band, produced by the aliens who had lived here before her people had more properly settled the place. This housing development was a shining example of Kentropan engineering practice.

But not as shining an example as the car Clark's dad had just gotten his children. The whole family was meant to share it, but Clark was oldest and pretty responsible (at least, as far as his dad knew) and got first dibs.

Clark wasn't his real name. That was just what the kids at school called him because he looked like 'Clark from Smallville.'

'Guess that makes me Lex,' Oralee had laughed not two weeks ago. No one thought it was funny. Her girlfriends had told her Lex was a Boy. She laughed again.

“You would be Lana Lang,” said one of her friends.

“With the black hair?” Oralee grimaced. “I'd rather be bald!”

Oralee had naturally reddish hair, a trait uncommon to her people. But not as uncommon as being an eighteen year old with a jaw cut like Clark's.

He was waiting outside for her, leaning against the convertible: it was almost as nice as the one Oralee's big sister had gotten when she turned twenty-one and got the internship at the bank. She giggled and jumped over the door even as Clark went to open it for her.

Clark was her friend. He was attractive. He played the school’s patron sport. But sex ed had been adamant that sexual interaction could only be enacted between three or more individuals. Oralee didn't want to wait till college to start finding people to hook up with; she wanted to get married young and start a family, and it took years before a group’s first child might be born. Oralee’s mom told Oralee that her own first born hadn’t come until she had been married five years; she was 28 at the time.

So even if Oralee had her first sexual experience tonight, she couldn't expect to have kids until she was at least twenty-two. And with her mom, there had been at least nine other parents involved, not just three: it could take three times as long for Oralee to have that first kid as it had taken her mother!

Jeromey 2015/09/06(Sun)17:31 No. 667899 ID: d44ee5
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“Lets get started,” she said, her hair flopping out the side of the car as she drove for Clark.

“What?” he shouted. She hadn't been exactly audible. She was pretending to be in a movie, where wind never affected a person's speech.

She threw her head back. “We have to find someone to fuck tonight!”

Clark breathed through his anxiety. He could feel another stupid-adventure coming on. He was unsure of how he felt about her beyond the escapades he was always forcefully invited on. Nothing illegal (yet) but she was was all he could handle most days. He hoped she was kidding about having a three-way with some poor schmuck and prayed she might reconsider one of her old friends from soccer league on prom night, something just to get it out of her system. One of their friends had a hot tub.

Jeromey 2015/09/06(Sun)17:52 No. 667908 ID: d44ee5
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The street lights were turning on, but it was Friday night. If Oralee had a curfew, Clark wasn't aware of it.

“Ora, there's nothing down this way,” he complained over the music she'd just turned on. “Oh.”

She turned a little too hard down a street that, until last Clark had known, was a dead end. The concrete just stopped without any finishing, no curb, no barrier, loose nails posing a hazard to drivers. But now, it was a fully rendered cul-de-sac, large enough for a parade of trikes and bikes and scooters. More impressively, several new houses lined the outer rim of the circle and, now that his brain adjusted, Clark noticed there was a trough-street off towards Hebrose, the main road.

Oralee was driving towards what Clark at first thought was a new mailbox; but then he blinked and saw a person lurking in the blue of dusk. She was headed right towards him and Clark reached out a hand as if to stop her head from hitting the steering wheel when she got whip-lash from the impact of striking the pedestrian.

She stopped just a car length away and veered the wheels so she could look at the boy over the car door.

The three teens observed each other for a full seventy seconds. No one moved, not even the out-of-place looking guy in the road.

“Hey! Your folks move into the new division,” Oralee shouted through a wide grin, movie star voice in action. It wasn't a question. She assumed the boy lived here or he wouldn't be so far from the main road.

Clark saw that he was dressed all in darks, but not blacks. It was night and he couldn't tell what ethnicity the boy was but was certain he was not an alien. Clark smiled at the noob.

“Welcome to the Bushes,” Clark said, calling the development by name, upset with himself for sounding borderline sarcastic. But the slight smirk the dark newcomer returned to him meant he got it; the snark was intended for the burbs and the lifestyle they entailed, not the new customers.

Jeremy had these guys pegged: rich kids with no thrill left in their lives, pushing for harder and harder extremes just to feel- something. Anything. No punishment and no reward left their brains totally paralyzed to empathy. Affluenza, a distancing from natural desire and pleasure, was written all over their faces. He feared them and yet knew they must fear him more, for his differentness. He removed his hands from his pockets, but made no further moves.

The one who looked like Clark Kent from Smallville watched Jeremy as he sat up on window sill of his ride.

“We’re lookin to have a good time tonight,” the red-haired girl called to Jeremy at a distance. “It’s our last year of highschool and I dont want to graduate still a virgin, you know?” She tossed her head back and continued. “Wanna come with us?”

What? Had he heard her right? Jeremy searched the expression of the boy in the car and was denied eye contact as he gazed away at the new pavement in the distance.

Should he run back inside? The driver seemed to want to mow him down only moments before. Call his new step dad?

Or go with the new neighbors.

>you find Jeremy's Journal. Write in it.

Sounds like a bad idea to me. Politely decline with an excuse about stuff you gotta do, or something.
I feel bad for you because nobody's posted. For future reference, it was probably because of the huge wall of text. I took one look at the quest the other day and was like, "uh...maybe later...." Your first post is like, 3-8 times as long as an average tgchan post. My recommendation (mostly just from observing quests for a few years) would be to break things up into much smaller chunks, allowing for interaction and decisions between them. People will usually ask questions, and you can give that part of the info then. Sometimes quest authors do large info dumps, but usually only when necessary, and usually later on in a quest when people are already invested and it won't scare too many away. Now, at this point, honestly, I don't know if it can be fixed, since people walking in will still just see a huge wall of text. One option would be to reboot in a new thread. In any case, good luck.

Stall for time. Pretend someone is calling you (the phone is totally on vibrate), and speed dial your stepdad. Carry a fake conversation until you get him on the phone. This is bad news.