Summer Love

Summer Love

I opened my eyes and yawned loudly. Today is a brand new day but I’m still the same old me. I wiped the sleep out of my eyes as I stood to go to the bathroom. On my way there I passed my sister, Delilah’s room. She was still sleep and looked so beautiful doing it. I envy her so much. She has everything. The pretty face, bangin body, smooth caramel skin tone, long luscious hair, pretty hazel eyes, and all that is just how she’s better than me physically. She’s more talented. She can dance better than Ciara and sing better than Beyoncé. She plays almost every instrument known to man and she writes her own music. She’s better than me socially too. She has about a million friends, has dated the sexiest guys to walk the face of the earth and is currently dating the sexiest of them all, Asa Torrence. Asa is the epitome of sexual desire at its finest. The way he walks, the way he talks, the way he looks at you in the mist of having a conversation, it’s as if he’s a majestic creature that fell from heaven to bless us with his presence. He’s very quiet and calm. When he talks, his voice comes out smooth, deep and slowly. He never reacts quickly to anything. He takes his time and thinks about what he wants to say before he says it. His swag is off the meter. His light, milk and honey-colored skin has not one blemish and his straight white teeth are impeccable. His eyes, the color of the sun as it sets, and his hair, black and wavy as it hangs down his back, confirming his Caribbean roots. He always smells like peppermints and Axe cologne and the way he carries himself is that of royalty. He’s just perfect. And he’s all hers. To say that I’m envious of my sister is an understatement. I wish I was her. I want her life, her body, her voice, her boyfriend. I want to be her.

But life is infamous for being unfair. So as it only could be, I’m nothing like her.

I have the face of an African bush woman, brown eyes, dark chocolate skin, bushy, unruly hair that stops at my upper-back, and the body of a child, meaning I’m curve-less. Not very pretty at all. I can sing a little bit but not nearly as good as Delilah. I can play a little piano and I’m pretty good at sports but, boys aren’t checkin for a girl who can throw a football or pitch a baseball. They want the girl who dresses like a super model, has a booty like a stripper, and is the perfect compliments to their swag. Swag……. Something I have absolutely none of. I dress comfortably. If it’s beyond sweat-pants and over-sized, paint-splattered sweat-shirts, I’m clueless. And yes, as you guessed, I’m a lonely virgin. I’ve never had a boyfriend or even gotten close to having one. I’m 16 and haven’t even had my first kiss. Depressing, I know. But as I said before, life is infamous for being unfair. My only ray of sunshine is my best friend, Rain. Rain is closer to me than Delilah is. She’s my back bone, my ace, my own personal motivational speaker, and at times my therapist. She always knows how to make me feel better and she keeps me laughin. She’s very pretty. She’s caramel colored with long, light-brown, curly hair and curves for days. Boys are all over her and are pretty much infatuated with her, even though she could care less. She’s a bit nerdy. She’s heavy into school and her books, like me but unlike me, she has swag. Her style is sort of rocker girl. She wears a lot of leather and studs and her fingernails are usually painted black. All in all, Rain is awesome and the best friend I could ever ask for.

After I was done watching my goddess of a sister sleep, I continued to the bathroom and closed the door. I undressed and showered, and all that good stuff then brushed my teeth and did my hair. It actually felt like cooperating today so I brushed it up into a messy bun with strands hanging down in the front and sides and put my thick glasses on my face. I’m about as blind as a bat which is why my ability to play sports is a miracle. I wrapped myself up in my towel and walked out of the bathroom, flipping the light switch as I passed. Delilah was awake now, walking towards me on her way to the bathroom with her toiletries in her hands and her towel over her shoulder.

“Morning,” she said shortly, not even sparing me a glance. Dee isn’t much of a morning person.

“Morning,” I replied and kept walking. I stepped into my room and turned around just before she closed the door to the bathroom. I closed mine and sighed. Truth is, that would probably be the last time she spoke to me today. In her world, I was unimportant and nonexistent. I won’t say that she doesn’t like me or that she doesn’t care about me, she doesn’t treat me like a sister. I’m more or less an acquaintance to her. I’m used to it by now, though. It’s the same with our parents. They are barely ever home and when they are, they’re stowed away in their private offices. Mama makes a little bit more effort than Dad but still, their presence in this house is almost imaginary. Dee takes full advantage of that too. We’ve had countless parties at our mansion, to which I was not in attendance. Not because I couldn’t come but because I figured, what was the point of going if I didn’t know any of the people? I would just be standing there, awkwardly all night. I don’t think so. So I let my sister get pissy drunk and entertain her friends, then poke my fun by being a totally loud and obnoxious busy body the morning after. Her hangovers are when she talks to me the most and usually it’s to tell me to stop making so much noise or bring her an Aspirin. The maids clean up her mess and never say a word to our parents, which is lucky on Delilah’s part otherwise, she wouldn’t be the perfect princess in their eyes. Yes, Delilah is the favorite. As much as my parents deny it, it’s so obvious. She has two cars but no driver’s license, the biggest room in the house, a bigger allowance, and they never fail to be at one of her recitals. They will stop the world from spinning if it gets in the way of them attending one of her recitals, but if I ask them to come to one soccer game, it’s “Oh, baby, we really want to be there, it’s just that we have a lot riding on this deal. We simply must be there. We’ll come to the next game.”……. But they never do. I don’t think they’ve ever been to any of my games, now that I think about it. But as I’ve said twice already, Life is infamous for being unfair.