Her Name is Sorrel

XII

12

I was present day, male Hanna Montana, living a double life; I got the best of both worlds. 

I got to make out with the cute girl everybody seemed to talk shit about and maintain my reputation as the caustic, I-don’t-give-a-damn-about-anything football player I tried so hard to preserve.

Not gonna lie - it was difficult. I totally earned myself major asshole points for making out with Sorrel in the dark utility closet behind the locker room, only to ditch her instantaneously the moment Jared shot me a text to meet the guys somewhere.

“Sorry,” I mumbled for the fifth time, fumbling in the dark and elbowing a “caution when wet sign”, “Jared just texted me.”

“Go,” she whispered, “It’s okay.”

“No, it’s really not-”

“Now is not the time to be chivalrous, Daniel,” Sorrel scoffed and I squinted in the darkness, struggling to find the face I just was once kissing. “I’ll be okay. Where to this time? Movies? Football game? Soccer match?”

“It’s actually a house party tonight.”

Sorrel held her breath; I felt her stiffen in my arms. She suddenly let out an excited squeal, “Oh my gosh, can I please go? Just once?”

I winced. “You know how I’m trying to be Class President by Senior year right?”

She nodded and I felt her hair brush the side of my face, “What about it?”

“Well, I need to go to these things as you know, publicity stunts. Think of it as-” I struggled to find the right analogy, “Obama’s presidential tour, you know? I need to campaign and put myself out there this year so by 12th grade, people are going to look at that ballot and my name will just stick out.”

“And you can’t bring a plus one on this presidential campaign, Daniel?”

My conscience gnawed my stomach and ate me alive; she wasn’t a cheap whore. As much as I wanted to think that, as easier as it would’ve been to use and discard her, I couldn’t simply do that to Sorrel Solby. I don’t know why, I just couldn’t.

Letting out a breathy sign, Sorrel leaned in and I felt her hand cup my chin, “Where’s the party Danny?”

She sounded genuinely curious.

“Near the rocks,” I muttered, “Down by the cove. Somebody’s parents are on an anniversary trip and their beach house will be vacant for the weekend.”

I studied her sharp features from the light protruding from under the medal door, “Promise me you won’t do anything stupid - like drink?”

God, that killed me. The guilt stung; she was so naive and innocent - alcohol was always the gist of most house parties.

“Sorrel, I really can’t make any promises like that because if I break them-”

“Take me with you,” she breathed into my ear and I shuddered, “Please Danny, please?”

“You understand why I can’t,” I muttered dryly in response and tried to pry her hands off my neck as she hugged me, “Come on now, don’t suddenly start being difficult; don’t do that to me.”

“Please,” she whispered, a whiney edge creeping into her tone, “Please? I don’t want to see you mess your life up by drinking and making stupid choices. You need a designated driver too, isn’t that right? You’re going to drink tonight and you know it so might as well come prepared. Please Danny, please, please, please.”

“Don’t whine, you know I hate that.”

“God dammit, please? One party, just one! Why can’t you take me to one party? Are you that ashamed of me? Embarrassed? Am I that terrible? Is my company that horrible-”

“Shut up,” I finally snapped, “You can come. Goddamn, you can fucking come to the party.”

She smiled like Wonderland’s Cheshire cat; her grin stretched from cheek to cheek as she leaned in to give me a quick peck, “Thank you, thank you, thank you so much Danny! I promise I won’t let you down!”

“Don’t, please don’t,” I found myself muttering.

My life wasn’t even an episode of Hanna Montana anymore. At this point, I was the star of a soap opera where the actor is struggling to play his role as well as his evil twin’s part because the film lacked funds to hire extras. 

I was that struggling actor- an identity crisis so to speak. The actor who yearned for bigger and better things but is stuck with a shitty job playing two characters because he is torn. 

God, life kind of sucks.

The realization hurt: Unlike a film, there was no director behind a camera calling out all the shots. This was my life. I was the one directing it and let me tell you, this movie starring Danny sucks. I will not be making any profitable revenue.