Southern Perceptions

Southern Perceptions - Part 5

Friday afternoons in downtown Surrey tend to bring out the most enthusiastic crowds. All the local businesses were gearing up for game night, vigorously hanging up team banners and hockey decorations with the hopes of luring in additional customers.

Mario's Pizzeria on Seventh and Main already had its double sided chalk-board stand on the walkway by the entrance door, advertising two free toppings on any large pizza for anyone wearing a team jersey and two dollars off pitchers of domestic beer until 6 pm. Some of the modest clothing boutiques pushed hockey memorabilia to the front windows for better viewing, while others set up racks with team shirts outside, along the breezeways.

It probably sounds a bit blasphemous, coming from someone dating an avid hockey player and all, but I've always been amazed by the money and effort that people sink into sports.

Yes, I adored my Canucks hoodie and wore it habitually, but it was a gift from my grandfather and holds sentimental value. And I watched my fair share of sports, but there was no way you would catch me camping out in a four-hour line, in the pouring rain, for one time tickets to a game. That was definitely where I drew the line.

During game-time, there was always a rare hint of excitement wafting in the air, almost the same feeling you get when the holidays are right around the corner. I couldn't help but feel the festive tingles fluttering inside me, but they instantly subsided, overshadowed by my recent impending doom.

A couple of kids with gigantic, orange-foam fingers were running down the breezeway headed to the strategically placed team shirts, while their parents contentedly trailed behind them. As I watched on, I felt a slight air of envy followed by desolation and without warning, my adolescent side took over my internal thoughts with angry ranting.

This just isn't fair! My life sucks! Who does this to their kids? Why me?

I blinked the tears from my eyes as I looked out the passenger side window, trying to focus my attention on anything but my life.

Suddenly, determination peaked. Micah's party was the last social event I would actually be able to attend, so I had to make it count. I wanted this—needed this—if I were going to move, I had to at least leave with a bang.

"You don't by any chance have those awesome suede boots from Couture with you?"

I asked. "You know the ones you got for Christmas last year?"

"As a matter of fact, I do. Why?" Lacey asked, as she veered off the road and up into my brick-paved driveway.

"Can I wear them tonight?"

"Of course," Lacey said with a smiled. "So ... this wouldn't have anything to do with a certain someone named ..." She took a long, exaggerated pause. "Sheila, would it?"

"No!" I shrieked without hesitation. "Okay, maybe a little. But you don't understand. Your boyfriend didn't just spend the last couple of hours with one of the most desirable girls at our school, alone. And, as if that isn't bad enough, I'm moving in less than two weeks, which leaves my boyfriend dateless for the single most important social event of our high school existence. You can only imagine what outrageous scenarios have been playing over and over in my head."

"I knew it! You are jealous," she declared knowingly. "Miss so-extremely-cool-and-confident is actually jealous."

"Okay, now, you're just mocking me."

She smiled playfully as she threw her arm around me. "Come on, let's go get you rocking-hot, girl. Tonight, you're going to be the most desirable girl at the party!"

Okay, so I know it was really shallow, but that small bout of confidence my friend conveyed in me completely lifted my mood. The mere thought of Sheila being envious of me—even once—seemed virtually impossible, given our coarse history. After all, she was Barbie incarnate with ideal blonde hair and legs for days; we were like night and day, Shelia obviously being day.

In the back of my mind, I always wondered why Blake asked me to be his girlfriend during the summer right before senior year instead of Sheila, especially since she had shown explicit interest in him ever since freshman year. Granted, Blake and I were fairly close before we even started dating; he lived down the street, we rode to school together often, our families spent holidays together. It was practically an arranged marriage. But the thought still lingered in the back of my mind.

When questioned, he simply told me that the reason he asked me out, and not Sheila, was because of my "unique beauty." That reason sufficed for the summer months, but when school started back, I couldn't help feel that little intimidation setting back in.

Unique beauty, was that guy code for something?

I never really shared how I felt, my insecurities, with Lacey. Come to think of it, that was the first and only thing I ever kept from her. I had always acted so confident and self-assured, key word being acted. Sure, Lacey and I were best friends, but even best friends had secrets.

"Hello ..." I was jerked out of my thoughts by the snapping of Lacey's fingers in front of my face, "Earth to Reyna."

I grabbed the suede boots from her backseat floorboard and we made our way inside.

Lacey quickly decided on a cute, sweater dress while I continued to search for something to match her boots.

"Reyna, I'm not so sure about this dress. It's great and all, but it's really short. A single gust of wind and 'Lacey's secret' might not be so secret anymore, if ya know what I mean?" She was rising up and down on her tiptoes, inspecting the dress from different angles.

"I have tons of leggings in my top drawer, if you want?" I offered.

"Yep, cause this dress is on point and there is no way I'm putting it back on account of a potential wardrobe malfunction."

Lacey was dressed in no time and sitting on my bed messing with her phone when I emerged from my closet. Finding the perfect outfit proved to be harder than I expected.

"Howdy, partner!" Lacey flashed her cell phone in my face, her screen revealing a Snapchat photo of her in a goofy, hot-pink cowboy hat.

"Ha, ha, very funny," I said sarcastically as I rolled my eyes.

"What?" She lifted her shoulders in a teasing shrug, "Too soon?"

I shook my head.

"You should think about getting one. You don't want to stand out when you get to the boonies, do ya?"

"And hot pink is subtle?" I countered.

"Well, maybe not, but just think of it as country glam," she said.

I reached over and snatched the phone out of her hands, and then tossed it onto my bed.

She giggled.

"You're crazy if you think I would ever be caught dead in any form of western wear," I said, and then I touched the temple of my head in mock pain. "Ouch, I think my IQ just dropped talking about it!"

"Anyways, this is more my speed," I said, picking up a dark pair of studded leggings and holding them to my waist.

"So, what do ya think? Will they go with your boots?"

"Well ain't you purdy!" Lacey clasped her hands together and placed them over her heart imitating another southern accent, totally different from the first one, which actually came out sounding more hillbilly-hick than southern belle.

"Enough with the twang, already, it's so not working for you." I playfully shoved her and we both started laughing.

Lacey retrieved her phone from my bed and checked the time. "OMG, Rey! It's already past six! We gotta go."