Chaos In The Wake

The First Splash: Comparing Urinals and Teddy Grams

5 years earlier:

"He's not looking at you, you know."

I glance away from the boy in mention at and feel my sunburnt 13 year old cheeks turn even redder. Bev lets her summer reading book fall into her lap and amusingly smirks the tall boy I was staring at.

"I... don't know what you're talking about," I murmur and sink back into my beach towel and my Wes Anderson screenplay. When Bev realized my obsession with the famous director's movies, she bought me a set of his screenplays for my birthday - even if we had only know each other for 6 months. All I got her in November was a stupid Teddy Bear with an "I Heart New York" t-shirt because she loved the city. Stupid. Even so, she claimed that she liked the inconsiderate present. Stupid, stupid Carrie.

"No, Carrie, I didn't mean... It's just that..." She starts, her eyes slowly trailing over the boy as if she was an art critic looking at a classic Greek sculpture. His gaze is now averted so that doesn't so obviously stare at us. "Wow. I sound so mean, don't I? Too blatant. I really didn't mean for that to sounds so horrible."

"N-no." The lie doesn't fall off my lips so easily. A look of guilt crosses her otherwise caring features.

"I'm really, really sorry Carrie. No, it's just, like... ugh! People always just..." She lets out a frustrated groan and drops The Outsiders fall face first into the sand. "I just think he's... staring at me."

My fingers curl in anger. "Yeah?" I ask, pretending to be engrossed with scene descriptions. In truth, the page is blank. "We don't know for sure, though. I mean... well... he could maybe be looking at...m-" No. The words bury back into my throat. Maybe me. Maybe he's looking at me.

"Well, maybe he is looking at you," Bev says without conviction. "But not always. Do you remember Christian from History? How we thought he was staring at you, and then he was just looking at my boobs for all of the Black Plague unit?" I wince at the memory and try to stuff it under the carpet of my mind again. When I don't respond, she continues. "I just don't like seeing you hurt... you see, my friends back in elementary school got mad when I told them that their crush liked me, but then they got mad if they find out that I didn't tell them the truth earlier." Her words drip with cruel honesty and I can't help but nod my head. She's right. Rock, meet hard place. Bev is caught right in the middle of it. "Hey, I'll make it up to you."

"What?" I ask, finally putting down my play and looking at my best friend's sun kissed face. Even her hair - her sun damaged, salt ravaged, unstyled hair - looks stunning. My own is matted onto my back and resembles a homeless dog.

"Yeah. Let's follow him." Bev wastes no time dragging my hand up towards the boardwalk before I have a chance to protest.

"Beverlyyyy! I don't wanna do this!" I whine behind her, but her tall frame drags me along the beach anyway.

"Oh, come on! You'll never know unless you..." Bev trails off, encouraging me to finish her sentence.

"Creepily stalk him from behind a palm tree?" I guess.

"Exactly," Bev says, pulling me behind said palm tree and giggling. I let out a huff and sit on my haunches, as my friend sneakily stares at said boy from behind the thick trunk.

"Bev..." I say 5 minutes later.

"Shhh."

"Bev, come on. My parents don't know where we are, and they're gonna freak when they find out we're gone."

"No. Shhh. He's moving."

It takes 2 more minutes for me to reach my breaking point. "That's it, Beverly! Let's go!" I announce loudly and step out from our hiding spot.