She's Still a Child

Buzzzzzz----

Russell drove down the desolate highway with Big Chest Girl on the back of his bike. The wind kicked up sand because of the speed, and she couldn't help wrapping her arms around his waist, pressing her face against his back.

Gotta hand it to American girls—they had guts!

Out here in the middle of nowhere, with no houses or people in sight, and not a single soul for miles after driving a good while, Big Chest Girl wasn't even worried Russell might try something shady.

To be blunt, if Russell wanted to do something—like take her back to his place... ahem, his living room for tea—there'd be no problem at all.

They say big chests mean no brains, but Russell was a man who valued substance. He wouldn't be shallow enough to judge a woman's IQ by her cup size. He figured the reason Big Chest Girl wasn't on guard was probably because she knew him.

With that thought, Russell decided to fish for some info from her. He twisted the throttle to speed up a little, then briefly tapped the brakes.

Speed up... brake... speed up... brake... speed up...

"..."

Was he being that obvious?

Sensing his bad intentions, Big Chest Girl was pissed. She gritted her teeth and let out a cold snort, then reached up and put her hand on Russell's waist.

Twist!

"Sss!!"

"Russell, what the hell are you playing at?"

So she did know him!

Russell said seriously, "I'm trying to remember where your house is. Honestly, I've kinda lost track."

"Ha, did you lose your memory, or do you think that lame joke is gonna make me laugh?"

"I didn't lose my memory, I really forgot. Listen, I'm serious. Where's your place?"

"Come on, it's just giving a girl a ride home! We live in the same town, not the same class, but we at least see each other on the school bus all the time. Can't you be a little decent? Being this stingy won't get you any girls."

"Okay, you've got a point. So... what town do we live in?"

"Are you kidding me?"

"No! I just think if I really knew a girl as pretty as you, I'd remember it clearly, not be like now, not even able to recall your name."

Women had zero resistance to compliments, and Big Chest Girl was no exception. She laughed and said, "Why say that all of a sudden? You trying to hit on me?"

"Yeah, pretty girl, I'm trying to hit on you. First time meeting—I'm Russell. Do I have the honor of knowing your name?"

"Fine, first time meeting. I'm Ashley. Ashley Parker!"

"Ashley Parker... great name. I bet you've got a brother named Peter."

"I do have a little brother, but his name's Mike, not Peter Parker, even if he does like spiders." Ashley sighed. "Can we not talk about that? I hate Mike, and I hate spiders!"

"Alright, let's switch topics. Beautiful and generous Miss Ashley, where's your house?"

"God! Does your 'first meeting' always have to start like this?"

"Of course. We just met. If I already knew where you lived without asking, wouldn't that make me a creep?"

Ashley was speechless. "You're right. That actually makes sense."

With Ashley's directions, Russell quickly found the way to Prosperity Town and successfully dropped her off at her doorstep. Earlier, Russell hadn't seen Ashley's face, but when she got off the bike, he realized it was extremely familiar—blonde hair, blue eyes, fair skin, and those sexy lips with high recognition value... the stunningly beautiful Black Widow from the Marvel movies.

Russell figured he'd guessed right. The street race was definitely a clue to triggering a world quest. The 'Black Widow' Scarlett Johansson in front of him was proof.

After all, she'd be a top Hollywood star later on. Even if the current seventeen- or eighteen-year-old Widow wasn't the lead, she'd definitely be tied to the plot. Marvel was out of the question—she was too young. It had to be a movie she starred in when she was younger.

This thread was worth following up!

Ashley didn't know what Russell was thinking. His unabashed stare made her heart race a little. She tucked her blonde hair behind her ear and pretended to be calm. "Russell, your riding skills are pretty good. I thought Brett would take first place today."

Russell was still mulling over the current world setting and answered absentmindedly, "That playboy?"

"Yeah. He specifically invited me to watch the race and said his skills were amazing, that he'd definitely get first place."

Russell snapped back to reality and smiled. "Then I guess I ruined someone's plans. He didn't get first, and he didn't get to take you home."

Ashley rolled her eyes at that. "For me, that's a good thing. That guy bolted the second he heard the cops were coming. If you hadn't been there, I wouldn't have known how to handle it."

"You didn't join the race, you were just watching. The cops would've at most given you a lecture, not done anything serious."

Russell felt no guilt about messing up someone's pickup game. He stayed on the bike and kept chatting with Ashley, sensing she had a crush on him. In this world, his identity and Ashley were probably just ordinary classmates—greeting each other when they met, acquaintances but not close. But today, taking first in the race had caught her attention.

No wonder teenagers were into extreme sports. Showing off got you noticed and made you popular with the opposite sex!

"No, don't forget my mom's the town sheriff. If she finds out I snuck off to watch an underground street race, she'll ground me for the whole break. That'd be a disaster." As if recalling some awful memory, Ashley sighed repeatedly. "She's always so controlling. I'm an adult now. She has no right to interfere with my freedom."

Russell didn't catch the rest of what she said. The moment Ashley mentioned her mom was the town sheriff, a movie suddenly popped into his head.

Eight Legged Freaks!

A sci-fi comedy monster movie. The monsters were giant mutated spiders, aggressive, hunting humans as prey, and there were tons of them—everything you'd want in a monster flick.

The Widow was a supporting character in that movie, the sheriff's daughter. As for the male lead... Russell only remembered he had a little mustache.

The general plot was fuzzy in his memory. That wasn't Russell's fault—the movie was old. If it weren't for the '18-year-old Black Widow' gimmick, he wouldn't even know such a goofy film existed.

The special effects in Eight Legged Freaks were pretty good—top-notch for their time, and even now they'd crush domestic monster flicks. But the plot had too many glaring flaws. If Russell managed to sit through the whole film, the credit went to the leading lady's looks.

"Hey! Russell! Are you listening to me?"

Snapping back to reality, Russell saw Ashley's face full of displeasure. The girl had her arms crossed, looking away, clearly pissed off at his zoning out.

Teenagers in their rebellious phase were all like this—seemed troublesome, but were actually easy to soothe. Russell raised an eyebrow. "You've got it wrong. I was spacing out just now because I was thinking about something really important."

"Hmph!"

"I wanted to ask you out for a meal and a movie, but I was afraid you'd say no, and I didn't know how to bring it up."

The coldness on Ashley's face instantly melted. She fought back a surge of joy, a hint of shyness creeping in. "When you said before you wanted to chase me, were you serious?"

"Of course. I'm already putting it into action."

Ashley smoothed her blonde hair, bit her lip, and pulled out a pen and paper from her small bag. She scribbled down a string of numbers and handed it to Russell. "This is my phone number. If you can get through, I might consider watching a movie with you."

Russell took it with a smile. The number was only five digits, but phone numbers in America were supposed to be seven—or ten if you included the area code.

Clearly, this was the girl's test for him.

Watching Ashley head back inside, Russell stuffed the note into his pants pocket, drove over to a phone booth on the roadside.

What else could you say about a girl in love having zero IQ? This test was a freebie. The phone book in the booth listed every household's number in town, easy to find in alphabetical order.

"Should I call her straight away, or play hard to get and let her stew for a night..."

Russell rubbed his chin, finally deciding to let Ashley stew for a night. First, it'd make him look sincere—like he'd tried many times before hitting the right number. Second, after a restless night, she'd be all worked up the next day, and when he called to explain, he could instantly dissolve her negative feelings and boost her fondness for him.

"Is this a bad move on my part? She's still an 18-year-old kid..." Russell felt a twinge of guilt, like he was losing some integrity. But he quickly caught himself: "Wait, I'm only 18 too. I'm also a kid!"

Yeah, 18 was great!

Failure Diary

The world was fair. It was hard for a failure to become a big shot, and it wasn't easy for a big shot to fail either.