Crushes, weirdos and the little things

Just Another Weekend

"Katie love!" I can tell by the tone of mum's voice what she's about to say. "Bill called." I'm glad my back's turned because I couldn't stop this eye roll even if I wanted to. She pauses to see if I have anything to say. "Well, he wanted me to come by tonight and I thought since we're not doing anything... well, I'd say I'd come and..."
"Yeah, mum. Great." I think I'm able to keep my voice fairly neutral. "I have plans anyway." Not really, but I can't with her hovering all night just because she suddenly developed motherly responsibilities.
"Alright then." She starts to move away from the door. "I'll leave some money in the kitchen. Maybe you can invite Liza over?" Maybe I can gouge my eyes out.
"Yes mum. Maybe I shall." There's a spring in her step as she hurries into her room to get all dolled up for the flavour of the month. Disgusting.

The smell of her perfume lies thick in the bathroom, not even my taking a shower clears the fog of Elizabeth Arden's White Diamonds. I don't know why, but I apply makeup and blow dry my hair. It's Friday night after all and maybe someone will invite me along for something fun. And maybe mum will stop going after drunken losers and actually care about what I get up to on the weekends. With a sigh I wipe the mirror clear of the last bit of condensation and apply red lipstick. If I am to spend the weekend alone in my flat, then at least I'll do it in style.

My favourite playlist has been shuffling through itself while I've been in the shower, and is blasting Adele's "Hello" as I search for clothes. There's something about music, favourite songs, that has me feeling so much better about my life. Singing along with Adele makes this lonely Friday night not seem all bad. I guess enough endorphins are sent coursing through my veins for me to feel a smidgen of happiness. I pull my blinds down and open my window slightly, the sound of mums calling their kids in from the playground and the barely there noise of traffic on the road into town meld with the music in my room.

We live on the ground floor, our flat has a patio instead of a balcony, much to mum's delight. She really likes her flowers and we can have tons of flower pots and still have room for a table and chairs. Previous summers I sat out there with my friends, we'd drink Fun light and eat crisps and laugh at everything. This year is not quite the same. My ex best friend Liza dropped me like last week's news when Desirée Willows and her crew wanted her to hang out with them. I wasn't invited. I don't think any of them have anything against me, it's just that I'm not cool enough. I don't drink or smoke, I don't wear high heels and barely there dresses. I'm just boring I guess.

Liza just stopped answering my texts or returning my calls one day in April. When I asked her about it at school a few days later she told me we had grown apart. I just stood there, nothing would come out of my mouth and she shrugged her shoulders and left. My other friends are good I guess, but they were never my BEST friend and there's so much I haven't talked with them about. And I think they want to start going to parties, become more cool and be noticed. I just don't get it, being more or less invisible works for me, which means I'm never hassled at school and since I'm confident enough about myself, I don't feel the need to pretend to be something I'm not. I'm a normal girl in a normal town. To be perfectly honest though, Liza's betrayal has affected me way more than I let on, I have still to tell mum about it. Not that she'd care anyway, not when she has Bill to fawn over. Yuk.

I start "Hello" again, posing in front of the tall mirror I have leaning against the wall. Sophie made me buy the black spaghetti strapped dress when she saw me in it at the store, I'm glad she did because it is a very cute dress. Ending mid thigh and showing the slightest hint of cleavage it's the "sexiest" piece of clothing I own. I almost feel ridiculous thinking of myself as sexy. What's sexy anyway? Humour, that's what.

As I'm trying to think what shoes would work with I hear a high pitched whistle from outside, I'd recognise it anywhere, it's Westley Holtz, or Wes as he likes to call himself. We've lived in the same area for as long as I can remember, which means we've always been neighbours because I've not lived anywhere else.
And before you ask: No, I'm not harbouring a secret crush on Wes. I like him, he's nice and funny and a constant part of my neighbourhood life. He gets into trouble for kicking footballs into open windows, skiving from school and flirting with other guys' girlfriends. But he also walks home with me from the bus stop out by the road, shares his sweets with his friends and takes breaks from running from people by hanging out on my patio.