Hundred Words

One

One

Chevron.

Like little zigzags vying for a place of importance, to be the one part of the pattern that everyone notices.

Sort of like people. It's like we get so consumed by popularity and acceptance, we don't care if it means we're squashing down friends and strangers. We just want to climb that social ladder.

Thankfully, I am not WE.

Sadly, I am getting squashed.

~~~

The bell rings, and I lose my train of thought as my best friend Jess's chevron nails dart out of focus, tucking a jumble of papers into her binder. I shake my head, trying to clear the boredom of history class from my mind, before grabbing my folders and notebook.

Jess tucks a strand of straightened brown hair behind her ear before getting out of her desk to leave, briefly smoothing down her mint green chevron skirt.

I guess you could say she has an obsession. I don't know how it started, just that one day in middle school she had got her nails done for her birthday, chevron patterned, and I don't know if it was love at first sight, but something clicked, and now her wardrobe is probably 50% chevron, 50% solids and quotes. It's absurd. I don't even want to know how long it took her to jump from store to store in search of her many skirts, leggings, shirts, headbands, or her two pairs of shoes.

Jess turns around, her mouth in a soft smile. "School's over, it's Friday ," she announces, as if I didn't know.

"Wow, you're a smart one!" I return sarcastically.

"I am! I know one plus one, and two plus one, and," she made a face, as if she were putting in all effort imaginable, " two plus two!"

I roll my eyes. " Wow, have fun with that."

She starts to turn down another hall. " See you later!"

"You too," I reply, as she disappears into the ocean of kids flooding the hallway. I am left to battle the way through to my locker, amid the shoving, crowding, and shouting high schoolers.

Finally I make it down the hallway, and waste no time opening my locker, pulling out my backpack and sliding in my folders, books, and homework. I examine my reflection in my small mirror, lined in cardboard that Mia and Eli, my little sister and brother, lovingly designed with markers and stickers.

My blonde hair frames my thin, angular face. I desperately attempt to smooth my hair down, flyways and some wavy areas annoying me. My mom always says I'm a lucky girl, the summer sun annually lending me highlights and lowlights. I agree with her, but I would gladly trade the sun's gift if it meant my hair would cooperate, even on occasion.

Holding back a sigh of frustration, I settle for a ponytail to keep my hair at bay, then sling my backpack across my shoulders and make my way out of the now calm school. I live fairly close to the Seabreeze High, too close for there to be a bus stop on my street, but far enough that I dread the walk on hot days. Every time I mention that to my mom, she comes up with some lame excuse, whether it be " You get good exercise!", or "What a better excuse to walk faster!"

I personally think that mom just needs an excuse to not drive and pick me up, but for the most part, I'm okay. I enjoy the breeze that seems to tame my hair, and the winding paths of uneven sidewalk and grass. The palm trees and other exotic plants and flowers seem to wave me along, keeping me safe from the occasional bursts of traffic and annoying gulls that seem to ask me for help, where's the ocean, Alex, where's the ocean? they seem to ask, voices harsh and winny like toddlers, their judgemental eyes sparkling, their wings beating silently above my head.

Sometimes, it would be enough for a person to go mad, but I find a bit of ritual calm and humor in these walks home. Free from my cozy home and beach house themed room that I love, but find to calm and ordinary, and away from Seabreeze High, holding too many secrets and surprises, but also my friends, I finally can find just a sliver of uniqueness, able to breathe in and exhale the Florida air, just like a tourist.

Oh, those tourists and vacationers must feel lucky.

I have that thought stuck in my head as climb the steps to my front porch, made up of white-painted wood, flaking in some places. My sister's beloved wicker rocker sways in the breeze as if it were a lazy palm leaf as I ring the doorbell, to lazy to fish around my bag for my keys, and thinking that a walk to the door on my mothers part is suitable payment for me walking home from school.

Instead of mom, Eli opens the door. He gives me a smile, before Max, our border collie, shoves his face against the screen door, clearly happy to see me. Eli looks up at me, his words sounding excited, like he is laughing.

" How was school?" He asks.

" Oh you know, the same. A little boring, but hey... How was preschool?"

His smile spreads wider " Oh you know, the same," he copies. " but it was fun, not boring, and I drew this picture and we read this book about a worm, and he went to school and was friends with a-"

I reach my hand down, ruffling his blonde hair " That sounds great, Eli. How about I make you me a snack?"

Eli takes about one second to contemplate. "Yeah!"

Right then Max starts to walk away, nose to the ground, after realizing I didn't have any treats or special toys for him I may have brought home.

"Uh-oh..." Eli tugs on my shoulder, and I bend down to hear his whispers. " Max is sad. He thought he was going to get a snack too," Eli told me quietly, as if to make it so Max couldn't hear. His tone of voice was very serious.

"Oh..." I tried to think of what to say to make Eli feel better, and yet a part of me wanted to giggle at his reasoning. I mean, how do you explain that your dog truly isn't heartbroken to a five, almost six year old?

"Hmm..." He scratched at his head in thought.

"How about this," I said quickly. " I'll make you a snack, and then we can give Max a can of his special, yummy food he likes?"

Quick as can be, Eli bolted towards the kitchen, and I could hear him telling mom the plan. " Mommy, Max was sad because he wanted a snack, and he can't share a snack with me because he's a dog, but now I'm gonna give him his yummy can of food, and he won't be left out!"

Mom chuckled, giving me a thumbs up from the kitchen table. " That's very nice of you, Eli."

"Uh-huh, but Alex came up with the food part. But she didn't know that Max was sad, so I told her. But now I'm gonna eat! Love you mommy!" He raced back to the island, where I was looking for fruits, and pulled up a chair. He smiled.

"So..." I started, trying to look as serious as Jess was when she showed me how "smart" she was. " What, would you, like, to eat?"

"Uh..." Eli scrunched up his face. "Peanut butter and jelly, and apples slices, and three carrots."

I tried to keep a straight face, but he was just so cute! If Jess had a little brother, and he happened to say the exact same thing, I would have tried not to laugh. But this was the norm in my family, Eli and his adorable specifics.

My mom stepped in, wagging a finger at my brother." Woah woah woah, mister! If you eat that much, you won't want to eat dinner, and you don't want to go to bed hungry."

" Okay, then I'll have... Apple slices. And we need to eat quick, so we can feed Max! We don't want to forget, because then Max might get angry and eat our shoes!"

I don't think I ever had a better reason to make a snack.

~~~~
Book note
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