Social Jerks

Evan and Consuela

Evan's Point Of View

I adjust the camera, the picture still kind of blurry. The October sun shined on my face. It's still hot though. It's hot all year round here. This morning I climbed out of bed, rubbing my tired green eyes, my brown hair messy and spiked up in all direction, but I didn't care. I don't bother brushing it. It adds to my charm, the whole just-rolled-out-of-bed persona. The ladies love it. After stumbling over piles of clothes, overdue homework, and last week's dinner. I was out of the door faster than a rocket before the universe could change its mind and take away my easy breezy unscheduled Saturday.

Usually on a Saturday morning I had either an extracurricular activity to do or a dry brunch to attend with my parents and their dull clients. My attendance was of the utmost importance according to them so that we could try to pass our family off as the picture perfect family, another business and political pitch. And if I wasn't with my parents, ready to tear out my hair or tossing and/or kicking a ball down a field, I was goofing off with my four compadres or preoccupied with a hot girl.

Now, I'm enjoying the freedom of solitude, sitting on top of a large rock that was randomly thrown into the middle of town. The bolder stretched up to about six feet tall and extended outwards four feet. It was awkwardly shaped, almost resembling a heart, the two curves pointing towards the sky and the bottom of it was flat. It was some historic symbol for something, but I can't remember what.

I just know that it's an important relic and that I probably shouldn't have my butt attached to it. But when you're the son of a business mogul who's also owner of half of the town and the son of the mayor, who's going to tell you that you're in the wrong. No one. It was one of the only benefits to having my last name. But most of the time being known as a Reed and having the same exact name as my father only brought me trouble.

I hold the camera up to my right eye, squinting the left to get better focus through the lens. The eye of the camera roams over the busy City Square. I'm facing north, a slight breeze coming from the west. The breath of cool air is greatly appreciated. Central hall is behind me, a row of mom and pops' shops along City Square are to my right, to my left at the end of the street is the recreation center, and ahead of me is the town's jewel, Fitzgerald's School of Musical Arts (FSMA). In the past, I had the pleasure of scoring a few beauties that attend that school...good times.

Aside from the students, the school building itself is beautiful to look at, made of glass so that its walls were open to the outside world. And the way that sunlight reflects off of the building at certain angles is mind-blowing. I find the right contrast between the light and the glass in a way that they compliment each other perfectly. I zoom in on the school, my finger pressing the capture button and the camera flashing. I want to get even closer. I jump off of the boulder.

A few people give me weird looks as I push pass them to cross the street. My goal is to get a picture the sculpture of a music note, made of reflecting medals. I set the camera to the black and white setting and then aim the lens at the sculpture. Before I can even click the button a sliver of light catches my eye. I look up to find out what caused the light and my eyes land on possibly the hottest girl my eyes have ever landed on.

She's standing on the outside of the school dancing, her movements following those of the girls who are inside the school building, taking dance lessons. The cause of the light was a key chain that's attached to her baggy sweatpants. It doesn't even matter that she's wearing sweats and a T-shirt she's still beautiful. Her feet move at an incredibly fast pace, dancing if not as good then better than half of the girls in the class.

Why wasn't she dancing on the hardwood floor instead of the grass? I can't resist neglecting my original objective and focusing on my new muse. She twirls and skips. I can't even really describe the way she moves. It's as if she was the lemonade in a jug being poured out into a glass, moving that smooth. I think that she was dancing some contemporary dance. How can she keep up to the beat when the music can't even be heard?