Am I Pretty Yet?

Chapter Seven

Someone knocked into me, spilling their drink all over my shoes. I gasped, my eyes opening quickly. In front of me stood Parker. A very drunk looking Parker. His smile seemed a bit lopsided, and his eyes were a dull green, not as bright. He swayed in his step, leaning his hand against the kitchen counter. His eyes honed in on me.

"Nina," he slurred, laughing and swinging an arm around my neck. "Nina, Nina, Nina. You're the only girl I know named Nina, Nina."

I stumbled backwards against his weight, grimacing as I attempted to stand him upright. "I believe you. I also believe that you're so drunk right now, you won't remember saying my name six times in one sitting."

"I'm not sitting. I'm standing," he corrected, moving his palm up and down to point out his stance. I smiled, shaking my head in amusement at him.

"Of course you are. I stand corrected."

"I'm sorry about your shoes," he mumbled, clicking his tongue.

"They're Richel's," I said, causing him to laugh loudly in return.

He tapped my nose with his index finger, then started giggling like a ten year old boy. A drunk Parker sure was an interesting sight.

"Let's go outside," he laughed, already leading the both of us to the back kitchen door. We entered the backyard and walked towards a rusty looking swing set. His palm felt hot against my own. The yard was practically empty, a telltale sign that they had just moved in and that Mrs. DeAngelis was not a green thumb in any shape or form. I always felt a bit hollow inside, seeing a yard without any blooming flowers rooted in the ground. I felt an itch to race back to the flower shop, grab a dozen packets of seeds, and shower them along the soil.

Parker stumbled towards the swing and plopped down onto the seat. The chains groaned against his weight, and I wondered if the family before had left it behind when they moved out.

"Push me!" he exclaimed, his grin goofy and wide, like a child walking through a Disneyland park.

"Alright, alright," I said, quickly moving behind him and hoping he would at least hold onto the steel chains to prevent himself from sailing right off the seat. I pressed my hands into his back, pushing him forward with a huff. He yelled random nonsense, kicking his feet up into the air.

"I'm flying!" he whooped, letting go of the chains and extending his arms outwards, pretending to be an airplane or perhaps a bird. "I'm Peter Pan!"

"Peter Pan, not Peter Parker?" I mused. He chuckled, looking back at me. A sliver of the moon hung right above his head as he came sailing back down to me. I pushed him again.

"Funny," he grumbled. "That should be your talent for the beauty pageant. You could tell jokes."

"Peter Pan versus Peter Parker jokes? Something tells me the audience might not catch onto it as quickly as you did. And you're drunk."

"I'm not that drunk," he argued, frowning back at me. He wagged his finger at me. "I've been drunker."

"That's not a shocker," I sighed, my arms beginning to hurt. Parker was a lot heavier than I'd imagined, but I figured it was all muscle since he didn't have an ounce of additional fat on his body. My phone suddenly vibrated in my back pocket. I scrambled to pull it out and look at the caller ID.

Mom. Shit. My thumb hovered over the Answer icon.

"I only get drunk when they argue. They're so loud when they argue, Nina."

I stopped pushing him, watching him fly upwards as he kicked his feet hard into the air. I blinked, appalled. "When who argues?"

"My parents."