I don't know why I'm writing this down, I really don't know who I would ever tell about all
of this, and it's not like I'd ever forget.
Still, I feel the need to write it down anyways. My name is Joanna Franklin, but everyone
calls me Jo. Right around the time I had my first period, I started shooting up like a weed,
and by the time I was 14 I was 6' tall. At 19 I'm 6' 2", and I hate it. I'm taller than my
boyfriend, Mark, and even though he says he doesn't mind, I really wish I was shorter.
It doesn't help that my best friend, Naomi, is exactly the kind of girl I wish I was. She's
positively tiny, at an inch under 5', and she's very cute, with a nice figure, where I'm, well,
to be nice, a stick.
It doesn't help that I've been a tomboy since I could walk. Dad was a mechanic, and I
practically grew up in the garage. Still, I guess I never could be a girly-girl like Naomi; I
like fixing things too much. I've always had a talent for it, my Dad used to grin real wide
and say I could fix anything.
When Dad died, I got the house, and I spend a lot of time in his garage; the smell of oil
and metal reminds me of him a lot. I really should get a job, or go back to college, but it's
been hard. Mom died when I was little, so I barely remember her, but it feels like Dad is
still here.
To keep myself busy, I've been fixing things around the house, tuning up Dad's 69'
Camaro, and doing odd jobs around the neighborhood.
It was just such a job that introduced me to Jenny Carter. I had just finished doing an oil
change for a kid across the street, Mike, who'd just got his license, along with a beat-up
Chrysler that I didn't think would last two years.
He didn't know a thing about cars, but I could tell he loved that beater. I smiled, thinking
of my first car, the Charger.
I wasn't feeling very girly at the moment, wearing my old coveralls, covered in oil and
grease, and my brown hair under a hat, and all I was thinking about was a long shower
and the fact that Mark would be by for the weekend, when I realized I wasn't alone.
There was a girl of about six watching me. She had a pink Huffy bike, and the chain was
dragging on the ground. She was, no doubt, the prettiest girl I'd ever seen. Long blonde
hair, so blonde it looked almost white, sapphire blue eyes, and skin the color of cream.
She smiled at me, revealing a full mouth of baby teeth in perfect condition.
By now, she's started losing them, but at that moment, her smile was beautiful.
"Hi!" She beamed at me.
"Um...hi...can I help you?"
"Mom says you fix things, could you fix my bike? I can pay you two dollars for it."
"It shouldn't take long, no need to pay me." I grinned.
She shook her head and replied, her voice all serious. "If you fix it, I have to pay you, it's
the right thing to do."
I have to admit, Jenny is the most mature little girl I ever met. I was pretty impressed so I
nodded. "Ok, no problem. By the way, I'm Jo."
She wrinkled her little nose. "That name doesn't sound pretty enough for you."
Before I could say a word, the smile was back. "I'm Jenny Carter." She held out her hand,
and didn't seem bothered when I shook it, getting engine grease on her hand. I tried to
be careful, she was wearing this adorable pink blouse and a denim skirt.
"Glad to meet you, Jenny." It took about a minute to fix the chain, and she immediately
presented me with two bucks in quarters, with another one of those heart melting smiles.
And then she was gone.
Later that night, my doorbell rang, and I answered it to find a vaguely familiar young
woman outside. She smiled, and I realized at once that this was Jenny's mom, Melissa,
who lived down the street.
"I hear you fixed Jenny's bike, Miss Franklin."
"Ah, call me Jo...did you want the money back? I didn't want to take it, but she insisted..."
I felt myself blush.
"Oh no, nothing like that. I just wanted to thank you, you made quite an impression on
her. She says she wants to fix things when she grows up."
"I hope I didn't get her dress dirty."
Melissa grinned. "Don't worry about it. She's very careful. Not at all like I was at her age, I
was a real tomboy."
I sheepishly raised a hand. "I still am."
We both laughed, and that's how I got to be friends with the Carters.
Ethan Carter had died in an accident a few years back, leaving Melissa to raise a little girl
by herself; I was surprised to find out she was only 24. At their insistence, I started going
over to the Carter house for dinner every night, and Jenny became the little sister I never
had.
I was glad to help Melissa out, babysitting and such, although I hated to take any money
for it; Jenny could take care of herself just fine.
Melissa had quite a bit of insurance money, but with my help, she was able to go back to
school. And I had to admit, she was a better cook than I was; my idea of cuisine was
ordering out for pizza.
Mike seemed amused at my new family, but he seemed to understand how badly I needed
to be with supportive people. Naomi, on the other hand, absolutely adored Jenny, and
would often drag us both out shopping.
So far, I guess my story sounds pretty tame. But my friendship with little Jenny Carter was
about to change my life completely around.