bandana (a.i.)

baseball and bandanas

Song: Amnesia by 5 Seconds of Summer

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"Elizabeth Jane Perski get down here right now!" I hear my mother's voice from downstairs call once again. I have previously ignored her numerous shouts hoping maybe she would think I was out or asleep. I wish I was.

My father has invited a new business partner over for dinner. My father has told me that Dave, his coworker, has a son around my age and to use my manners. I have begged and pleaded with my parents to try to get out of this dinner, as I do every family dinner. I guess you could say my parents and I aren't the closest. They did their things and I did mine. The last thing I wanted was to sit at a table surrounded by snooty rich adults talk about introductory rate and direct cooperate access. I couldn't give a shit about the stock market or whatever it is bankers care about.

My door opens to show a very agitated blonde hair, polished lady, my mother. I continue to scroll through Twitter on my phone in attempt to block the death stares I am currently getting.

"Elizabeth I told you..." My mother begins to lecture me but I cut her off.

"Liz. I told you I want to be called Liz," I reply hastily.

"Your name is Elizabeth. I will call you Elizabeth. Be ready, dressed in decent clothes for dinner in 30 minutes," she says glancing at her watch before looking back up at me. "And get that thing off your head."

As she turns to walk away I roll my eyes before shouting at her, "It's called a bandana."

I throw my phone onto my bed after glancing at my messages of which all include talk of the party for tonight which I won't be attending. Jesus why must I go to this stupid dinner?

I walk over to my closet and grab a pair of blue skinny jeans that have several holes up the legs that give them a more fashionable look and slip them over my semi tan legs. I yank a Nirvana shirt off a hanger and slide it over my head. I walk over to my bathroom to try and style my wavy brown longish hair. You know what? Fuck you, mom. I'm keeping the bandana. I grab the can of hairspray and spray into several spots in attempt to smooth my hair. I go back into my room to grab my makeup bag and the walls make me cringe. They desperately need to be repainted. They are coated with a puke pink. I literally want to gag at those years where I had matching friendship bracelets with Jennie Thompsan. Thank god I was over that stage. To this day I hate Jennie.

I apply one more coat of mascara onto my eyelashes before deeming myself fit for visitors. Not that I care what they think of me. They are probably just another country club, sophisticated couple who have the perfect marriage in front of the public eye. But when they are at their three story house he is cheating on her and she is drowning her sorrows with expensive wine and online shopping. As for their kid, he is probably a star athlete, dating the head cheerleader like Jennie.

I grab my phone before slipping into my back pocket and shutting my door and climbing down the stairs, making my way into the kitchen so I can get this night over with. My mother is scrambling around trying to set the table. In my opinion she always goes overboard on these dinners making one too many desserts and buying too many drinks. I don't really complain about the drinks though. Whatever alcohol is left over gets thrown into the cabinet which is where it will go unnoticed if taken. She glances at me and rolls her eyes making some comment degrading my outfit which I ignore as usual. I walk into the front room where I see my father watching some baseball game. I was never really into sports. In the seventh grade

Jennie and I did cheerleading together. It was awful to say the least. Of course at the time I loved it. I was preppy and pretty and my parents were rich so I was popular. I now look back at those years and regret them.

I slump onto the brown leather couch and pull out my phone once again and see a few messages from my friends. My dad notices my appearance and feels the need to make small talk. I really wish he wouldn't.

"They have a son your age," he says while turning down the volume to the baseball game.

I think this is the first time in history I actually would willingly watch baseball. I roll my eyes, "Hmm. That's good to know."

He looks back towards the television and then turns to me, "Elizabeth this could be nice. You could make a new friend."

I ignore all this friend talk, "Liz. Dad, Liz."

"Yeah, sorry. Liz," he says in a sarcastic tone. My father was always the funny one. He could have a laugh and mess around. My mother was the uptight, too high-headed one. I made a vow many years ago to myself that I would be more like my father and less of my mother.

"He's new to the area. He'll be starting school this year with you. You should show him around."

I automatically laugh, "I'm sure he can find everything he's looking for just fine without my help. Oh. And speaking of school, it starts in two weeks and I need to get some school supplies and I'd like to get some new clothes maybe you could leave me the card."

He produces a laugh that is more like a roar, "You're funny. Last time I trusted you with my card, I never got it back."

"You got it back," I reply sarcastically.

"You're right. I did. After you spent over 2,000 bucks and I had to pay a late fee."

I look and see I have another message, "At least you admit I'm right."

He laughs, "I'll give you a deal. You can take my card if you behave properly tonight and show Dave's son around."

"Thinking of it now, I'll ask mom," I reply hastily even though I know my mother would never in a million years allow me to take her card without her being there criticizing my every fashion choice.

"Good luck with that," he says before letting out another chuckle and turning the television up.

Not too much longer later the doorbell chimes and my dad goes to greet them while I lay on the couch playing Subway Surfers with the baseball game still on. I would much rather be out with Megan and Benny. My parents like Megan surprisingly well, probably because her parents have money. My mother dislikes Benny because her mother is a bitch, a rich bitch, but still a bitch. I look up from my phone to see a boy, standing at the doorway of the room watching the television. I take a quick second to let my eyes trail down his body. He is decent looking. Okay, he is pretty hot. But it's not his tan, or his tight black jeans, or even his cut off Pink Floyd shirt that grabs my attention. It's his bandana.

A/N: I don't even remember how I got this idea but I kinda sorta love it. I hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as I enjoy making it. If you do like it vote and comment.

Do you guys have any fanfics to recommend to me? I am currently in the process of reading like 30 but yolo. Or do you have any of your own fanfics?

I also have a few other fanfics if you wanna check them out.

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