Song of a Sophomore

CHAPTER 12 - You Gotta Be

Before me stands the most gorgeous boy I have ever laid eyes on. It is the lifeguard with the wavy ash brown hair and crystal blue eyes--or is it the bronze statue from the house in the woods? In that moment, they seem one and the same.

"Can I help you?"

I just stare at the lifeguard's toned arms and lean torso. When his icy blue eyes meet mine over the rim of his stylish metal sunglasses, I freeze, unable to breathe.

"The pool's closed. There was an incident with a toddler and a diaper."

"Oh?" I murmur with my mind unable to put together a single thought and my feet unwilling to move. "Someone pooped in the pool?"

Idiot!

He stares at me blankly. "Are you looking for someone? I saw you standing there and thought—"

"You saw me?" A gasp escapes my lips and my wonder turned to complete embarrassment.

Wasn't I just staring at my own reflection for a full minute, peeling off articles of clothing and fluffing my hair? This is beyond humiliating! I grin out of desperation, hoping for a forgiving smile in return.

Instead, the cute lifeguard cocks his head to one side and holds the door with an outstretched hand. "Are you coming inside?"

"I'm so sorry." I take a step back, nearly tripping over my own feet as I scramble to walk away. "I'll come back some other time."

"If you're looking for someone, maybe I can help?" His azure eyes follow me over the rim of his sunglasses as I retreat down the sidewalk.

"Yeah, I am looking. Was looking. For someone. But not anymore." My gaze brushes over his light, sun-kissed skin and the mousey brown waves of his hair until my backside grazes a lamp post. "Ouch!"

"Watch out." The thinnest curl of amusement forms on his perfect lips.

"I will." My hair falls down into my face as I spin around, but I tuck it behind my ear and steal one last glance at him. "Bye. Thanks for the update. About the poop. I mean, the diaper. See you later."

Idiot. Idiot. Idiot!

I book it down the sidewalk and curse myself for being a total fool in front of such a perfect male specimen. He has the prowess and poise of a mythological creature—a god even. He is a Greek god you read about in a textbook—or see cast in bronze, leaning precariously in a field of tall plumes of grass.

I'm really losing it.

I push the Greek god out of my mind and my thoughts turn to Bethany and Michelle. Literally running away from the opportunity to make things right was stupid, maybe even crazy. Dad always said, insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results. Each day I go to cheerleading practice expecting things to get better, but do not make an effort to change the status quo, I am setting myself up for disappointment. I know that. Yet, facing the Greek god and Bethany at the same time is impossible as long as there is the familiar weakness in my legs and anxiety gnawing at the pit of my stomach. There has to be another way.

I walk home as fast as my tired legs will carry me, strategizing.

Dad is elbow deep in the rusty, old car when I arrive. "Hey, kiddo. Come check out what I'm doing on the hot rod."

"Later, Dad. I've got to talk to Mom." I race up the front stairs.

"See you later, alligator," Dad calls out as I slam the door.