Winning Skylinn

7

Since I didn't have to take a shower the next morning, I took my time curling my long brown-almost black-hair. It fell to the middle of my back, just the way I'd always wanted. My dad thought it was too long, that I would "look cute with a shorter do" in the summertime. But I loved my long hair, and I couldn't let it go.

After doing my hair and makeup, I put on a new maroon dress I'd gotten from Rue21. It was kinda short but had mid-length sleeves, and I'd liked it as soon as I'd tried it on in the store. Even though it was November, I didn't bother with tights. Remember, winter felt like summer in Orlando.

My parents drove me to church and we greeted the other attendees as we walked in. But my smile was fake. All I could think about was Denver, and how, for the first time in three years, he wasn't here with me.

Just before the service, Jake ran up to me and gave me a big hug. I hugged her back, tightly. I hadn't realized how much I'd missed her until now.

"Can I sit with you?" she asked.

"Of course." I led her to the pew where my parents were sitting.

The music started, and I tried to focus on it, but it was nearly impossible. Finally, I closed my eyes and began to pray.

"Dear God, help me to focus on you. Denver may be gone, but he's not the only thing that matters in life. You're my everything. Help me to remember that. Clear my head of any thoughts and distractions. I want to focus on you. Amen."

Then I opened my eyes, feeling refreshed, and began to sing with everyone else.

- - -

I didn't have anything to do after church, so I went home and watched more of Jane the Virgin. After a few episodes, I fell asleep.

When I woke up, it was nearly dinner time. Had I really slept through the whole afternoon?!

I sat up and stretched my arms above my head, then struggled out of the blankets and went to find my mom. I wondered what she was making for dinner.

I found her in the kitchen, cell phone pressed to her ear. She seemed to be ordering a pizza.

When she got off the phone, I decided to ask if we could invite Jonny over for dinner. I could use the company.

"Sure, hon," she said.

I put my shoes on and ran across the yard to Jonny's house. I knocked on the front door, and he was the one to answer it.

"Aye, Lenny!" he said, grinning. 'Lenny' was the shorter version of 'Leonard,' my other nickname.

"Hey, my mom's ordering pizza... Wanna come over?"

"Yeah, sure. Just let me ask."

I nodded as he walked back inside, shutting the door behind him. He came back out a minute later, a smile on his face. "Pizza, here I come!" he said, rubbing his hands together excitedly.

I laughed and rolled my eyes at him. He could be such a child sometimes.

We crossed the path to my house, and met my parents at the kitchen table. "Pizza'll be here in five," Mom informed us. "Hi, Jonny."

"Hello, Mrs. Porter."

When we'd first met, he'd started calling her that. As we got older, she told him he could call her by her real name, but he never felt comfortable doing it. She was just Mrs. Porter to him.

"Hey, Jonny, how are ya?" my dad spoke up, reaching out to shake Jonny's hand.

"Good, sir, and you?"

"Doin' well."

Ew, grown-up talk. It was so weird and formal. And even though Jonny wasn't technically a grown-up, he still acted like one around real adults.

When the pizza got there, we sat around the table and ate slices out of the box, not bothering to use plates. I grabbed a can of Dr Pepper out of the fridge and took a sip.

Almost immediately after that, I burped.

I got three different reactions. My dad gave me his stern glare; my mom said, "Skylinn Rose!" And Jonny just laughed.

"Sorry," I said to my parents. They hated when I burped at the table. Or anywhere, for that matter.

"And?" Mom prompted.

I stifled a sigh and eye-roll. "Excuse me."

"Thank you."

"Well I'd better get going," Jonny said after awhile. "I've got work tomorrow."

He worked at Culver's, if you were wondering. He'd been employed there for at least two years.

"Okay. Bye, Jonny!" My mom gave him a hug.

"Bye. Thanks for the pizza."

When he got to me, I punched him in the shoulder, and he got me back by tickling me in the ribs.

"Ah! Stop!" I screamed, jerking away from him. I hated being tickled, and he knew it.

"Bye, Leonard," he called as he went out the door.

"Bye, Jonathan," I sang in that sugar-sweet voice he hated.

Did I mention it was kind of our thing?