The Secret of Soul

A Concoction for Disaster

December 21, 2012

Whitney

I was in a long, restful sleep when my phone screeched my favorite song, "I'd Lie," by Taylor Swift. I didn't even have to look at the caller ID to know who would have the nerve to call me after I posted on Facebook I was going to take a nap. I trudged my way over to my computer desk and picked up my phone to answer it. "Hello?" I croaked. "Hey it's Sarah! Come down to the beach and party! It's the last day to live!" Sarah screamed into the phone. "Sarah I'm busy." "Bull! Everybody knows you were just taking a nap, Whitney. Come down here with me and Jack. It'll be fun." I looked menacingly at my Facebook account that I left up from earlier this afternoon. "It's too cold for the beach Sarah. Why don't we go to a restaurant or something?" I was trying to coax her. I knew she'd never agree, but it was worth a try. "You're funny Whitney. This is Miami. It's seventy degrees outside. Obviously we're not swimming, but it's definitely warm enough to hang out at the beach. Are you coming willingly or am I going to have to drag you out of your bedroom?" I finally decided to give in just so she would shut up and I could hang up my dying phone. "Fine Sarah, I’m coming. Give me twenty minutes." "Yay!" she shrieked, "I'll see you soon!"

I tucked my phone into the pocket of my black skinny jeans. "You're lucky I love you Sarah," I mumbled into the mirror as I tried to tie my light brown hair into a bun. I finally got it to cooperate, and then I went over to my closet and pulled out a grey Areopostale hoodie. I knew it wasn't cold now, but with the sea breeze, it could get down enough to where I might want a jacket. I stepped into my purple converses, pulled down my purple v-neck, and finally left the bedroom. I ran down the stairs and into the kitchen. I saw my purple purse to go with the rest of my outfit, and the keys to my blue 2000 Volkswagen beetle. "Mom I'm going to the beach with Sarah!" I yelled into the living room. She mumbled something like "buckle your seat belt, call me when you get there, and have fun!" I ignored her and went out the door. I still didn't want to go, but I knew if I didn't, Sarah would call and I really did not feel like hearing her nag me while I'm trying to drive.

After what seemed like a traffic nightmare, I finally made it to the beach. I saw Sarah run up to the parking lot with Jack coming behind her. "Hey you made it!" She hugged me, as if she was reassuring me that I would have fun, even though we both knew I was just going to mope the whole time. "Come on! We have the best thing ever!" she laughed as Jack pulled her from behind and nibbled on her ear playfully. I looked at them, completely disgusted and jealous at the same time.

I haven't had a boyfriend for a year. The last relationship I had ended horribly. Aiken, my now ex-boyfriend, called me over the phone, after going out for two years, and told me he thought we should see other people. I drove to his house to confront him, but I noticed a car, a red Toyota highlander to be exact, that had never been there before. I decided to investigate and looked into the bay window that displayed the living room from the front lawn. I saw him and another girl. From my position, it looked like they were talking, but then he turned and I could see him completely engrossed in her long, blonde hair. He looked up from her lips for a second, and in that second he saw me staring at him, completely shocked, and he went into the kitchen. I threw a rock into the window, hoping to shatter the glass. I ran back into my car and drove away. When I looked into the mirror, the glass hadn't even scratched. I cried everyday for two weeks, but eventually I moved one.

Sarah picked up on my discomfort and elbowed Jack in the stomach. "So, um," Jack said as he cleared his throat. The air felt really thick and I could feel sweat bead on the back of my neck. Sarah, thankfully, broke the silence. "Come on I have to show you something, then you need to drink something." "Sarah," I replied, "it's not legal to drink alcohol yet. We're only nineteen." "Relax Whitney and stop worrying. It's not alcohol," she yelled loud enough for the whole beach to hear.