Don't Judge a Book by its Cover

Blonde Barbie Doll

Savannah POV

I opened up another box of clothes. "Shalina, get down here!" My mom yelled. I didn't answer. I never answered to Shalina. Especially not to her. She hadn't asked me before picking us up and moving halfway across the country, so she couldn't ask me anything now. I started throwing stuff out onto my bed, acting as if I hadn't heard. Soon enough, she was standing in the doorway.

"Shalina..."

"My name is not Shalina." I scowled at her, and the cell phone in her hand. She was always on that phone of hers these days. Something to do with her job. Everything was about her job, that's what her life revolved around, and she expected mine to do the same. It didn't.

"Look, I'm sorry we had to move right before senior year, but I was transferred. I had no say in it." She apoloised. I looked up at her.

"I wanted to go to prom with the friends I grew up with. I wanted to be student council president. I wanted to go to the concert that was happening next month, and I sure as hell didn't want to break up with my boyfriend." I snapped at her. She opened her mouth to apologise, but then the phone rang.

She answered it.

I turned my attention away from her, back to my stuff. I had nothing more to say to her. In fact, screw unpacking, I wanted to get out of this house. I took off my old t-shirt and my pyjama pants, and instead, put on a pair of basketball shorts and a tank top. I pulled my jet black hair into a ponytail, and pulled on socks high enough to cover quite a bit of my brown legs. I put on my sneakers and I was out.

Jogging down the road, I couldn't help noticing that we actually lived on a very pretty street. The type where all the houses look the same and the grass is always neatly trimmed and a little yellow. It was fairly close to the beach, and I could see the water. So this is California... I almost liked it, but... It wasn't Tennessee.

I slowed to a stop and wondered where I could go from here. I didn't know where anything was around here. After a while, I figured I'd head to the beach. There was bound to be a shop or at least an ice cream place in that direction.

I didn't reach to the beach, though. A couple blocks down, I saw this guy, about my age, sitting on the grass outside his house. He was hunched over a notepad, but I could easily see his curly black hair and his brown eyes. "Hey." I called out to him. He looked up.

"Hey." He responded, and then looked back down at his notepad. Well, that was downright antisocial. I moved closer and realised he was drawing. And drawing well.

"Wow, you're really good." I told him. He mumbled a word of thanks, straightening up. There was something in his expression that seemed... I don't know, disconnected from the world. Was he autistic? I squirmed a little. "So... you draw, huh?" I asked. I wanted to talk to him, but he wasn't giving me much to work with.

"Yeah." he mumbled, as expected, and then chuckled. "It's pretty much the only thing I'm good at." 

He was good-looking, I couldn't deny that. And when he had laughed... the way it lit up his face. Wow.

"Naaw, I'm sure that's not true." I argued, sitting on the grass next to him. "You could be a model, with a face and a body like yours."

He laughed- I'm not sure, he sounded a little nervous.  "I... don't think so."

I slid a little closer. "What do you mean, sure you could!" I said, and winked at him. He laughed again, and I think he blushed a little. He looked back down at his sketch.

"So, how come I've never seen you around here?" He mumbled. Was he always so quiet? I wondered.

"I just moved here with my mom." I sighed. "It sucks."

"Cali isn't that bad." He sat up, added a signature to his sketch and closed his notepad. "I moved here recently too."

"Really?" I asked, glad to find a fellow in my suffering. "From where?"

"The big Apple." He said, smiling.

"New York?" I blurted out, disbelieving. I thought New Yorkers were loud and obnoxious. He did not look like a New Yorker. He shifted a little on the grass, and then so did I.

"Nobody believes me when I say that's where I'm from."  He lamented, apparently to no one. "So, what's your name?"

"Savannah." I told him, without a second thought.

"Mervyn. Nice to meet you." 

"Can I see that notepad of yours?" I asked, already reaching for it. He handed it over, and I took it, brushing my hand against his. If I had one thing to say, that boy could draw. There were at least 20 sketches in that book, and they were amazing. A couple trees, flowers, animals, even a random messy bedroom. Everything looked real. "You should sell these." I told him.

He shrugged. "That was the plan. My mom wants me to get rid of the papers cluttering my room, and I need cash for college, so..." He shrugged again. "The job is just to find someone who'd buy them."

"I'd buy these." I offered. "Who wouldn't buy these? I mean, I'm broke, but if I had money, I'd buy these. They're pretty wicked."

Mervyn smiled and said nothing. A silver car pulled up in front of the yard, and a girl came out. She had really straight blonde hair, purple eyes (I assumed they were contacts) and was wearing a swimsuit top and a pair of shorts so tiny, I was surprised that she hadn't been arrested for public indecency.

Ugh. What a bimbo.

"Mervyn!" she shrieked. She had a shrill, horrible voice. She ran out of the car, and literally threw herself on him. He just laughed, and sort of pushed her off. 

"Meggie, honestly? I saw you yesterday. Go inside, play with Mel or something. I'll be right there."

She laughed, and sent a smile at me. I wasn't sure if it was fake or not, but it was probably fake. People like her never smiled for real.

I waited for her to go inside. "Was... that your girlfriend?"

"Who, Meggie?" He asked, glancing back in the direction she'd gone. "Nah, that's just how she is." He added an amused "Crazy." under his breath. Me? I wasn't so sure. 

"You're too naïve, Mervyn." I said to the grass. He didn't hear. But that's what he was. If you asked me, that girl was just a tramp.

"Listen," he said, gathering up his stuff from the grass around him. "I have to go get ready. We're going to the beach. I'll talk to you again some other time. Unless you want to come?" 

Something in me recoiled at the idea of spending more time than I had to with that blonde barbie doll. "Uh, no thanks. I'll catch up with you later." I picked up one of the pens from the ground, took his hand, and wrote my number on it. He laughed.

"I'll call you, then." 

I ran back home, feeling strangely in a better mood. That Mervyn sure did laugh a lot. I wondered if perhaps some of that had rubbed off onto me. I reckoned he liked me a little, to be honest. Something about him had made me feel better about today. 

I nearly dropped my keys (which darned key opened the front door again?) when I realised what I was saying.

Whoopee. There's a guy in California. That solves all my problems...

Note the sarcasm.

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