I closed my laptop, when I finished my essay, and looked in the mirror in my room. I looked at how much I look like my mother. The resemblance never ceases to amaze me, the fact that we look so much alike, yet we could not be more different. I look at my curly, bleach blonde hair and chocolate brown eyes. All the way down to my blue toe nails, that my mother made me paint. I have never been the girly type. Ever since I was little I always liked playing in the dirt and discovering new bugs. I never liked wearing skirts or dresses, to my mother’s dismay. It always seemed like she forced me to be the shadow of my older sister, Sarah. She was the captain of the cheer squad, dated the varsity football quarterback, and never, ever, played in dirt or wore pants. Sarah graduated high school last year and went to college at UCSB only to study in fashion. Needless to say that was probably the saddest day of my mother’s life.
When I get down stairs I see my mother in the kitchen, not that that was a big surprise. My mother is always in the kitchen. She’s always making breakfast or dinner or just cleaning something. You can always tell, however, that something is wrong. Whenever my mother is sad or angry about anything, she bakes something. When her mom died she made chocolate chip cookies. When Sarah went off to college she made banana nut muffins. She made a whole cake when someone stole her car. She says it’s a way to help her keep her emotions in check.
My father is sitting at the kitchen table reading the paper. My father has always been the quiet type. When he and my mother argue, he never yells. He always keeps his voice steady and level. My father is always preoccupied with something. In the morning it’s the paper. In the afternoon it’s his hand held FreeCell game. At night it’s the paper again. Ever since I can remember he has had this routine.
“Hey sweet pea,” says my mother from the stove.
“Hi," I reply.
“Are you okay? You look a little down.”
“No. I’m okay. I’m just a little late, that’s all.” I walk over and kiss my mother and father on the cheek. “See you guys later,” I call over my shoulder.
“Love you sweetheart,” my mother yells just as I close the door.
I walk to the end of my driveway and across the street where my light blue, convertible VW bug is parked. I unlock the door, get in, and throw my book bag into the passenger seat. I can feel the car start under me as I turned the key in the ignition. As I drive down the street I turn on the radio to my favorite station. “Haven’t Met You Yet” by Michael Bublay fills my car.
“Story of my life,” I mumble to myself.
I believe that love only finds certain people. Those people happen to be everyone except me. It seems that everyone in school is with someone else, other than me. I mean I want a boyfriend but I believe that boys want girly girls who wear skirts and high heels. Not shorts and high tops.
I used to have a boyfriend in my freshman year. His name was Luke and he had short brown hair that lay flat on top of his head from wearing a baseball cap all the time. He was tight end on the JV football team and short stop on the frosh/soph baseball team. He was the best thing that ever happened to me. One day I was sick from school and I felt like total crap. I was congested and my hair looked like I was playing the part of Medusa in a movie. When school was over Luke came into my room with some chicken noodle soup.
“Don’t look at me," said hiding under the covers.
“Why not?” he asked walking toward my bed.
“I look like the bride of Frankenstein."
He came over and took the covers away from my face and said “You look beautiful.” As I was eating my soup Luke told me everything that happened at school. How someone was dancing on the lunch benches, fell down and broke their collar bone. How our English teacher was walking around with her skirt tucked into her panty hoes. “Someone might have told her if she wasn’t so mean," he said.
Everything seemed right with the world. Until two months later when I saw him making out with another girl after one of his football games. I didn’t tell him that I knew but I just broke up with him. A week later he got with that other girl. I later learned that her name is Allyse and she’s on the softball team. I haven’t had a boyfriend since. I guess boys were more into cheerleaders and softball players than girls on the swim team.
Now, I’m picking one of my best friends up for school. Her birthday is in August and she hasn’t gotten her license yet so I drive her to school. I see Tiffany walk out of her house and she is walking toward my car. I move my bag to the back seat and unlock the door. She gets in and puts her purse in the back seat.
“Hey," she says with a huge smile on her face.
I pull away from the curb and do a U-turn in the cul-de-sac, stop at the stop sign, and make a left toward our school.
“Hey," I finally say back.
“Have you talked to Larissa lately?” she asks.
“No. I was wondering if you knew what happened on their date.”
Our other best friend, Larissa, started going out with this guy and she doesn’t like to talk about their relationship. I mean, she will talk about it, but it’s very vague. And us being girls, we want details.
There are four of us in our “best friend group”. Me, Tiffany, Larissa, and Stephanie. Larissa and Tiffany are much closer. They tell each other everything. And it’s the same thing with me and Stephanie. Tiffany is the party girl in the group. She’s always at parties and drinking. At least one of us has to go and make sure she doesn’t over do it. Larissa is the brains. If she gets a B on anything she will ask if she can go to summer school or have extra credit. Stephanie is the girly one. She always wears skirts or dresses, and never wears shoes without heels unless absolutely necessary.
“Well, all she told me was that they went bowling and had pizza after," Tiffany now says, pulling me back to reality.
“That’s it?” I ask.
“Yep. I guess so.”
As we pull in to the school parking lot we are on the subject to cats and how, unless they are in videos on YouTube, I don’t really care for them.
“They don’t do tricks or anything," I say parking the car and getting out. "All they do is eat, sleep, poop, and run away.”
“But they are so cute," Tiffany argues while we are walking to our lockers, “and if you keep them in the house they won’t run away.”
“But then you have cat hair everywhere.” We laugh but it ends when I get to my locker and see a red rose taped to it. We walk up and I take it off and read the card.
You are the most beautiful thing that I have ever seen. I want you to meet me at Stop, Shop, Go.
Love,
Your Secret Admirer
I take the rose and throw it in the trash.
“What are you doing?” Tiffany yells running over and getting it out.
“It’s probably just a trick. Remember what happened last year?”
Last year was my sophomore year and I got a note in my locker from my “secret admirer” telling me to meet them at the park down the street from our school at eight o'clock at night. I was so excited that I actually bought a dress and sandals─ I wasn’t ready to commit to heels─ and straightened my curly blond hair.
When I got to the park I waited. And waited. And waited. By the time it was nine I just left. I was sad but I just kept thinking that maybe he got grounded or his parents locked his windows with bars or something. When I got to school the next day I got a note in my locker.
Did you really think that someone wanted to meet you at the park? We were just having a pool going around seeing if you would really go. Thanks. You won me $50.
Now Tiffany is reading the note over and over. When she is finished she looks up at me with her dark brown Asian eyes behind her thick black glasses. I already know what she is going to say, so I just answer before she can get the thought in my head.
“No!”
“But what if it’s not a trick? What if someone really thinks you're beautiful and wants you to meet them? What if it’s that Zach guy that you like so much?”
“Shhhh. Do you want everyone to hear you? And besides, if he wants to talk to me then he can just come up to me. We are in the same stroke on the swim team. So, see, it can’t be Zach.”
“What can’t be Zach?” Stephanie asks as she walks up.
“Janeen got this rose with this card and she thinks it’s a trick," explains Tiffany.
“I think you should go just to see. I mean, nothing could be worse than what happened last year," Stephanie says.
“Gee thanks that really makes me want to go now," I say sarcastically.
“Where do you really want to go?” Larissa asks, walking up as the bell rings.
“Class," I yell as I walk away.
When I'm walking to class I see Luke and Allyse walking toward me, holding hands.
“Hi Janeen," Allyse says cheerfully.
“Hi Allyse," I say, smiling. As they past by me I finish with "Stupid bitch." And continue my way, through the crowded hallway, to my class.