Categories > Original > Drama > The Big Apple
Thorn stepped onto a dirt road in the middle of a countryside that she had never seen before and hoped that she wouldn’t ever have to see again. The place reeked of manure and exhaust from the old rusty trucks that everyone seemed to own in this town. She had her iPod blaring, one headphone dangling down and tangling in her bright red, curly, dyed hair. She sang along to the song that was playing in the one headphone she had in, hoping to leave her mark on the tiny town that she was being forced to live in for the next few months.
“You never call me when you’re sober! You only want it cuz it’s over! It’s over!” she sang, a little off key and a bit weakly due to jet lag. She strode purposefully down the road to the small pizza joint that had an amazing smell of melted cheese coming from it. She pushed the door hard and marched up to the front counter, leaving her earbud in. She looked up at the man behind the counter, who was not much taller than her, and studied him.
The man seemed unfazed and smiled at her warmly. “Howdy, welcome to Angilo’s,” the man said with a thick Texan accent. “How may I help you this fine day?”
Thorn was taken aback by the man’s cheerfulness, but shook it off quickly. “I’m going to be living at the Delhi Orchard for the summer. Where is the place?”
The man smiled at her as if he couldn’t sense her defiance, and pointed out the door. “Iffin you go across the street there and turn left, there’s a sign pointin’ you in the right d’rection. Then it’s down the road a ways, ‘bout a quarter of a mile. Old Man Mulich lives out there with his son, Josh. You can’t miss the place, I promise you.”
Thorn was trying not to laugh at the man’s accent, and just nodded her thanks. She slung her black duffel over her shoulder, then turned and walked out, leaving a restaurant full of shocked people behind. Great. She HAD left a mark on this lazy town.
Thorn followed the man’s instructions, and soon found herself staring at a miserable little run-down farm. There was a horse stable on the east side, which explained the poop smell, and row upon monotonous row of green, leafy trees. She assumed they were apples trees, this being an orchard and all, but she didn’t see a single red apple on the branches. It was a bit unnerving, and Thorn didn’t want to think too hard about it. She had to admit that seeing the sunset was pretty cool, seeing as you didn’t get one in New York, but other than that? This place was a dump. Thorn was positive that the Delhi Orchard could use a dose of Trivolta magic, and she was just the one to give it to them.
“You never call me when you’re sober! You only want it cuz it’s over! It’s over!” she sang, a little off key and a bit weakly due to jet lag. She strode purposefully down the road to the small pizza joint that had an amazing smell of melted cheese coming from it. She pushed the door hard and marched up to the front counter, leaving her earbud in. She looked up at the man behind the counter, who was not much taller than her, and studied him.
The man seemed unfazed and smiled at her warmly. “Howdy, welcome to Angilo’s,” the man said with a thick Texan accent. “How may I help you this fine day?”
Thorn was taken aback by the man’s cheerfulness, but shook it off quickly. “I’m going to be living at the Delhi Orchard for the summer. Where is the place?”
The man smiled at her as if he couldn’t sense her defiance, and pointed out the door. “Iffin you go across the street there and turn left, there’s a sign pointin’ you in the right d’rection. Then it’s down the road a ways, ‘bout a quarter of a mile. Old Man Mulich lives out there with his son, Josh. You can’t miss the place, I promise you.”
Thorn was trying not to laugh at the man’s accent, and just nodded her thanks. She slung her black duffel over her shoulder, then turned and walked out, leaving a restaurant full of shocked people behind. Great. She HAD left a mark on this lazy town.
Thorn followed the man’s instructions, and soon found herself staring at a miserable little run-down farm. There was a horse stable on the east side, which explained the poop smell, and row upon monotonous row of green, leafy trees. She assumed they were apples trees, this being an orchard and all, but she didn’t see a single red apple on the branches. It was a bit unnerving, and Thorn didn’t want to think too hard about it. She had to admit that seeing the sunset was pretty cool, seeing as you didn’t get one in New York, but other than that? This place was a dump. Thorn was positive that the Delhi Orchard could use a dose of Trivolta magic, and she was just the one to give it to them.
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