-
After the 4th attempt of trying to gel up my hair failed again, I snatched the brush off of my counter and yanked at the ratted greasy strands. I wanted to do something different again, just in case Rhiannon didn't notice me trying to look different earlier today. The day became incredibly slow after I figured out that she was coming over to Garrett's.
That was a 50/50 situation. 50% good. 50% bad. She was going to Garrett's and after school I got to rush home and try a ton of different looks to make my confidence shoot up. It was Garrett, though. The interference.
My hair looked completely ridiculous. It was flat on my face and spread out into little claws. I clawed my fingers into the tub of gel. Some of it dripped onto the counter so I shook it off before piling more onto my hair.
I grunted. This really wasn't doing anything. There was a perfectly good shower behind me and my hair was practically screaming for me to use it. Yeah, it was my moms. I slid open the door and ransacked the shelves. I was looking for something to make me smell amazing.
I found some weird green apple body shit, so I decided to use it. I prayed it didn't make me smell too feminine. I wouldn't be surprised if Rhiannon owned the same type of body wash. I ran downstairs and grabbed my shampoo before hopping into the shower and washing my hair and body.
It was 5:45, Friday, and the day that I would finally get somewhere with someone who practically hated me before this week.
Time to wash the reek of desperation off my clothes.
-
Things between my father and I were slowly patching up- in a painfully awkward way.
I trudged through our small house to the bar. Our house was a side house in a shitty neighborhood with metal fences that blocked our little yards from meeting together. It was one of those houses you'd see in the strip of them when you drive by. We live next to the tanning parlor, which is where all of the girls from my school tend to drive to in their free time. I'd imagine them scoffing at our property, yet I take a bit of pride in it. My dad grew up here with my grandmother. Died of lung cancer at 78 years old. She used to be my mother figure in a way. Last year- when she died- I had lost myself. A part of me was lodged into her.
My dad always said we were alike (independent and hard-headed).
I plucked my keys from the key hanger and waved a hand at my dad. He was drinking a glass of Coca-cola today. Sign one of improvement. I was set in the best of moods when I saw that our milk-white fridge's clear shelves were packed with Coca-cola and Mountain Dew rather than bottles of Rolling Rock and Negro Modelo. Odd combo- I know. He liked to mix them.
"Stay out of trouble." He mutters, changing the channel to ESPN.
I smirked and fled the scene to his Chevy.
My eyes lingered upon the pretty dark stone that coats the foundation of my house. That was my favorite part about it.
-
My house was an open door party for two people. I'd expected Austin to show up earlier. He was taking FOREVER. I was all ready, breath sprayed, smothered in cologne. My parents were to get back in about 4 hours. The clock currently read 5:50. If I leave any traces of evidence that I had anyone over my dad would kill me, and because of this I had ordered only one box of pizza.
The scronny kid who served the pizza had very noticeable cheek acne. He must've noticed it too, of course, because he crossed out Richard on his name tag and wrote "PIZZA FACE" on it in sharpie. He was pretty cool, I talked to him a bit before he left me alone again.
