Joe Jonas's life is the same; every day he has rehearsals, concerts, interviews, and Joe tires of his superstar life.
Sensing he needs a rest, his parents send him to the country for the summer; but what happens when he gets lost and comes across an abandones house, with a blue-eyed girl inside? Will he find an enemy or love?
“Honey, I’m gonna miss you so much,” Mom cried, hugging me again.
“I know, mom,” I said. “And I’ll miss you too, but I need some time away from fame, and Tiffany will help me wind down,” I reassured her as best I could. She sighed and lets go of me.
“Well, bye guys,” I waved slightly at my brothers and father. Nick smiled and Kevin waved back. Dad patted my shoulder. I smiled widely at everyone and made my way to the terminal.
Boarding the plane was a little tougher than I thought it would be. A few fans spotted me sitting in my seat on the small plane headed for Little Bedwin, the small town my aunt Tiffany lives in, located in England. She kindly offered to take me in for the summer after my mum told her I seemed to be slowing down and not as enthusiastic as I used to be.
The only thing disrupting my journey is the girls. When we land my fingers are sore from holding a pen and signing slips of paper for everyone they new, my voice hoarse from the requests to sing to them. Being a good role-model, I didn’t fob them off, but did as they asked, laughing with them. I’m just grateful they didn’t think I wanted to keep in contact, and glad they didn’t ask for my number or email.
I looked around the small airport in a town an hours drive away from town. Tiffany saw me and ran towards me, her hair bouncing and a huge grin plastered onto her face. “Joeseph!” I could hear her voice over the babble of the crowd. People turned to stare and I smiled at her.
“Hey, Aunt T,” I said and hugged her when she tackled me in a giant bear hug.
“How many times have I told you, call me Tiffany?” She sighed, exasperated. I smiled back.
“Sorry,” I said again.
“Oh my gosh, Joe, you look a mess!” She held me out at arms length and I rolled my eyes, my arms hanging lifelessly by my side. Tiffany tutted and shook her head. “We’ll get you back and make you a nice cooked meal, then you can relax.” She smiled again and put her arm around me, steering me into the parking lot.
“Uh, do you think I could hire a car and explore a little first?” I ask, seeing the car hiring centre.
“If you want,” Tiffany said carefully. “But be at my house by six. That’s when dinner is.” I smiled at her again and wandered off in the direction of the car rental.
“Um, hey, I wanna rent a car?” I asked the bored-looking salesman behind the counter and he looked up.
“What make?” He asked me right back.
“Cheapest please, and didn’t anyone ever tell you not to answer a question with a question?” I smirked.
“That’s £30 a day. How long will you be neeing it?”
“The whole summer,” I dug around in my wallet for the money I had exchanged before my flight. Finding only £20, I was forced to use my credit card. I handed it to the man, whose name badge read ‘Henry’ and he handed me the keys.
“Space number 13,” he said, returning my card and handing me my receipt. I went back 5th September and I was to return the car 1st September, meaning I had to go 4 days without my own car.
“Thanks,” I said, taking my things and stalking out of the small building. Was it just me or was he really rude? I quickly found the space my car was in and found a dirty Mazda. I scrunched my nose up. Why did they not wash it? Climbing into the driver’s seat, I slotted the keys into the indignation and turned. The engine roared to life and I pulled out of the parking space, making my way to the lane the main parking lot opened up into.
I drove for about half an hour until I came to a house that looked like it had been abandoned years ago. The porch was falling apart, and the door was hanging off its hinges. The wood the house was made of was a dull brown, dotted with moss and dirt. I would have backed up and gone to Tiffany’s house if it wasn’t for a battered red Chevy Truck which sat outside the broken house. So, instead of turning back, I turned off the engine and slid out of the car.
“Hello?” I pushed open the door and it fell off the hinge holding it on with a loud crash. I jumped a little and saw a girl sitting staring at me. She wore a baggy AC/DC shirt, faded blue jeans and some tatty trainers caked in mud. “Um, sorry, I saw your truck and thought I’d see who was here…” My voice trailed off when she laughed. “What?” I demanded.
“You don’t need to apologise, I just come here to do my homework. See?” She held her maths book up, and when I saw it my stomach churned. The symbols and numbers confused me, and maths was never my best subject. This girl must be smart. She shifted around on her jacket and moved her laptop and books onto the space next to her. She looked up at me smiling. Some of her blonde hair had fallen out of its ponytail and was covering her eyes. She brushed it out of the way and I looked at her bright blue eyes, shining in the pale light the screen gave off. I looked away, my face red, peering out of the window at a blue lake.
“So, what’s your name?” she asked. Her voice wasn’t high, but not exactly low. It was perfect, just as her outfit and her looks. She wasn’t like a lot of girls he met, plastered in make-up, because he could see she wasn’t wearing any.
“Joe Jonas,” I said, glad I didn’t fall over my words in my rush to get them out. “And yours?”
“Arabella,” she smiled, showing straight white teeth. “Not seen you around before,” her accent made me shiver in the warm daylight. “Where you from?”
“America,” I replied, leaning against the wall, hoping it wouldn’t hive out beneath my weight. “I’m staying with my aunt Tiffany.”
“I know Tiff,” Arabella smiled again. “Good friend of my mums.” She checked her watch. “She’ll want you back by six, right? Dinner’s at six.”
“Yeah, she did say six,” I said, checking my own watch. Half five. I bit my lip. “Would you mind showing me the way there?” Arabella laughed, a lovely, tinkling sound.
“Sure,” she gathered up her things, slipping into her jacket and grabbing her keys out of the pocket. She walked out of the door and climbed into her truck. As I was making my way back to the Mazda, I noticed a guitar in the bad of the red Chevy. So she was smart and she liked music. I was beginning to like her. She started her truck and the sound that met my ears almost deafened me.
“Sorry! It’s a bit loud!” she shouted to me over the roar of the engine. I laughed.
She stuck her tongue out at me and I started my own car. She started off and I followed faithfully in the dirty blue car. When we came to a turning she stopped and jumped down from the car. I rolled down my window.
“Down there, when you get to the end turn right, then it’s a straight road down.” She told me, pointing down the road that was consumed by trees.
“Thanks,” I said, and before I lost my nerve, I added “Where do you live? I might drop by.” She smiled again.
“Carry on straight down this long road and when you come to a tiny left turn, go down until you come to the farm. That’s me.” She patted the roof of my car. “Have fun. Tiff makes the best Sunday dinners ever.” And with that she was gone. I heard her car stall several times as I was driving down the leafy road, and I promised myself I would go see her soon. Maybe even tomorrow.