The Outcast

Chapter 3: A Mall And A Germ Freak Don't mix

Chapter Three

Nirvana Evans

Sun block. That was the answer to all my problems. Okay maybe not all of them but it sure saved my face from getting as red as a tomato and then pealing like a snake shedding skin. I didn’t like how it made my already pale face look even whiter but thanks to the powerful rays of the hot Florida summer sun I was forced to use it, and it was much better than a red face. That was not cool.

Why couldn’t I have been blessed with perfect tanned skin instead of pale sensitive skin? But then again if I wanted to start complaining about the things I physically disliked about myself I could go on for hours. We could start with the top of my head where my plain long curly brown hair began; continue with my awkward too tall 5’6 frame that made me taller than most guys and end with my plain caramel eyes.

But enough with the pity party. I also had things I liked about myself like my really long legs. Yes, that was definitely my best feature.

It was currently 9:30 in the morning and I had already taken my double shower and disinfected my whole room. What could I say? I was an early bird. The only thing I hadn’t done yet was go downstairs and have breakfast. Why? Because today was Friday (the day before the bonfire party) and I was dreading having to ask my mother for permission to attend.

My concern wasn’t that she would say no, my fear was that she would overreact like she usually did and want to take me shopping for something to wear to the party. Going shopping was heaven for most normal teenage girls but nothing about me was normal. Shopping for me was hell for two reasons; a) I wasn’t crazy about clothes and b) Malls were the most contaminated places on earth and I hated having to try on clothes that I had no idea who had tried on before me. The thought made me shudder in disgust and I considered backing out of going to the party. But then I imagined Will’s reaction and I decided to man up and go downstairs.

The smell of pancakes and vegetable omelet was wafting through the air and that was indication enough that mom was cooking.

“Morning Ana” my mother greeted me cheerfully. After years of her stubbornly calling me Nirvana I had finally convinced her to call me Ana.

“Good morning” I replied back and took a seat next to my dad on the bar stool, who was reading the morning newspaper. Looking at him now with his coffee mug in one hand, the newspaper in the other and the small balding spot that had started to appear on his head it was hard for me to imagine him rocking out at a Nirvana concert with mom.

“Look at this Charlotte, it’s ridiculous!” my dad exclaimed at mom pointing to an article on the newspaper.  It baffled my mind that he read that thing every morning when all it did was make him agitated.

“I don’t know why you bother with that dad. All they print on those things is gossip and negative news” I voiced my opinion.

“Yeah well I like to keep myself informed” he told me with a grin.  

“More coffee dear?” mom asked him and when he nodded she poured him another mug. She served me a plate of two pancakes and an omelet which I took gladly. She also poured me a glass of fresh squeezed orange juice and handed me the fork that had my name on it since I refused to use a fork someone else had contaminated with their germs. I already had my own germs to worry about I didn’t need to worry about someone else’s.

“Thanks mom” I muttered before digging in. After I had finished my plate I put everything in the sink and took a seat again. I bit my lip as I pondered how to bring up the party without causing too much drama.

“Is something bothering you honey? You seem quiet.” Damn moms and their perfect intuition.

“Umm well actually there is. See there’s this annual party by the beach for the senior class and you know I hate parties but Will is class president and he begged me to go so I said yes cause I didn’t want to disappoint him and now I need to ask you permission but I really don’t want you to overreact” I tended to ramble when I was nervous.