Ready to Get Out [open]

[Jason Heathrow]

For the five hundredth time, there was a loud thud against the glass of the shotgun seat window. It was a rather satisfying thud for anyone listening, and it was for the person who occupied the seat as well. It was impressive not for the actual noise itself, but the fact that it could be heard easily over the engine of the truck, and the jabbering of of the small children in the back. The chattering stopped immediately, and the adult driving the truck cracked a small smile, casting a sideways glance at the youth in the seat next to him. All was silent for a moment. Then, "Jason, did you know that you kill brain cells when you do that?" came a childish voice from the back.

Jason Heathrow opened his green eyes, staring out the window. His expression was one far beyond that of mere exasperation, it was murder. It was truly a miracle that he had not already catapulted himself into the back seat and strangled them. Their constant streams of questions, irritable remarks, and singing of ninety-nine bottles of pop on the wall (they didn't know the beer version) for the last three hours was enough to drive anyone crazy. He heaved a sigh. "Thank you, Sebastian, for your wise words of such scientific significance." Jason's voice was so heavy with sarcasm he was surprised it hadn't melted right off of his face. Yet Sebastian did not seem to get it. "Why thank you," he said smugly. Damn tweens.

Yet his father seemed to get the message, and he chuckled softly, reaching over with one hand and ruffling the youth's hair. As much as Jason hated it, it was nice to know that somebody understood his suffering. He had never been more ready to get out. Unfortunately, his mom had had to stay at the house, as one of their mare's, Marked Shot Tina was due to foal any day, and somebody had to be there twenty four seven. Jason was sad she hadn't foaled while he was there, he loved watching the newborns trying to stand, and their first turn outs...they were such free spirits. By the time Jason would see the new foal, he or she would be a yearling. The thought was bizarre.

Yet even so, he was so ready to leave home and live in the dorm. As he thought about this, his face was still pressed up against the glass, his untidy dark hair flopping all over. As he watched fence line after fence line go by, he jolted upright when he realized that they were turning down a long road. His heart rate jumped up, and everything seemed to sink in at once. He was going. He was going to Brass Ring, and he wouldn't be coming back until Christmas. As they pulled into the driveway, he stared out at the distant dorms, stables, and arenas. This was where he belonged. As the truck rumbled to a stop, he threw open the door, and his siblings immediately all scrambled out at once.

"Alright kids, grab a bag out of the truck, and we'll go find Jason's dorm room!" Jason's father said happily. Sebastian, the eleven year old brother made a face, but the other two seemed perfectly happy. Jason, on the other hand was beyond embarrassment. His family had always been loud, but at the moment, they were practically yelling. His father looked at him as he went toward the back of the truck. "Jason, you can go ahead and take Diva to her stall, and take care of your horse gear. We'll get your luggage." Relieved beyond imagination, he raced to the back of the two horse trailer, and lowered the gate. A whicker from the inside told him that Diva wanted out as much as he did. "Hey there," he said. "Ready to move in to your new home?"

"Jason's talking to ponies again!" shrieked his seven year old sister. She was so shrill and loud, that even Diva jumped. And Diva was not afraid of anything. "Shhh!" he hissed at her. For some reason, his siblings thought it was hilarious that he talked to his horse. He undid the gate, and slowly backed her down the ramp. Once out, she looked around, neck arched at her surroundings. After two blasting snorts, she was content, and immediately tried to get back into the trailer to her hay bag. However, Jason didn't give her the chance, as it was pointless - there were a few strands of hay hanging out of the bag, but nothing more. As he walked past the truck, he hauled a second hay bag out of the back, and walked, his horse in one hand, his hay in another. Using a finger, he reached into the breast pocket of his jacket, pulled out his sunglasses and put them on. Now he was content.

Diva's shoes clacked pleasingly against the cement floor of the barn isle, and after counting for a bit, he found her stall, and put her in it with the hay bag. There was already a water bucket filled in a small paddock that was connected to the stall. Nice. He gave the mare a pat, and merely sat there for a moment, listening to her chewing away happily at her hay, and pretending he had no relation what so ever to the screeching, shouting people in the parking lot.

words; 907
muse; fantastic
notes; love this kid