Phoenix
I'm thinking about this summer. It's like one of the things you do when there's absolutely nothing in the world going on so you just make up these stories in your head, I guess. I'm never bored.
I can see what summer will look like this year, the summer of our seventeenth. Atlanta said that this summer is for lingering, while we're not quite adults yet but just about to be pushed over. I don't know, I guess she's probably right. Sometimes I think that Atlanta gets frustrated with me for not having ideas of my own at times when it comes to matters as this. So I just like Google smart sophisticated stuff, so I look really smart.
So here I am thinking stuff, and I can see Donna a little way away, talking to a group or something. Doing leader stuff probably. And then I see the way Atlanta gets this super mischievous look on her face and she's staring at Tim and Tim is looking sorta freaked out.
Not major freaked out, just kinda borderline freaked out. And I know this is going to be good, so I smile all goofy at my friend, and she smiles back and her eyes are saying this is going to be fun and I tell her with mine that yeah, I want to see what happens next.
"So, how intoxicated we're they? " Atlanta is setting up the trap, and quite neatly so. She weaves a snare so deftly, that the prey doesn't realize it's a goner until it's three seconds from death. And her prey, Tim looks really confused and goes
"Huh? "
Atlanta gives this fabulous smile. When Atlanta smiles, it's like the whole world tilts on its axis and cracks open a tiny bit. When she smiles, the sun starts spinning around the earth for a minute, and everything is in slow motion. She has a great smile.
"How intoxicated were your parents when they named you? " she asks him and says some world real slow as if Tim was a bit touched in the head. To be honest, Tim seems very smart, though you'd expect him to be all macho cause he looks like a football player. But I try not to laugh, because then it would ruin the whole ploy and Atlanta would be mad at me.
Atlanta is a tornado. If you throw in some dynamite, you're dead.
"I guess my dad drunk some champagne in celebration, " Tim shrugs a little and shuffles his feet in a way that show this conversation is awkward for him. What kind of people bring champagne to a hospital during childbirth? I'm pretty sure there are more important things to grab while you're rushing your wife to hospital. Like pajamas and a medical card or something.
Atlanta is waiting. These conversations, like all conversations, are repetitive, they all have a flow. Atlanta knows what the flow is. I don't. Her face goes kinda scrunched up while she's willing the other person to follow the script. She does that now, and her nose curls up like some spaghetti.
" Why? " Tim adds when he sees Atlanta's expression. He's still very confused. I guess Tim doesn't know the flow either.
She grins. Atlanta is merciless. She's more than happy to answer his question.
"Because I'd imagine you'd have to be high to name your child Tim, "
I let out a big guffaw, partly because Tim looks slightly confused, and Atlanta is a much odder name. Lorraine, who has been tracking Donna with her eyes and squirming in the heat, gives this small and poised smile like she doesn't want snort. Girls like Lorraine are the reason why the phrase sugar, spice and everything nice was created in the first place.
Looking at Lorraine, I doubt she ever really snorts. She's so delicate and ladylike that beside her Atlanta really lives up to her second name. We all look like savages in Lorraine's presence. Then Donna is walking over to us.
YOU ARE READING
Turmoil
Teen Fiction""And you see, maybe people, maybe we're like those cars. We meet others, we crash, some crashes more powerful than others, we change. Impact. It means the death of something, doesn't it?" Tim : (adjective), a writer who's feelings are pressed into...
