Left Handed

2

Are you still there?

Today was crazy. Not in a good way, mind. Well, not a total disaster but yeah. Not perfect. At least my lucky star is constant. It is right over our town. Funny. Shouldn't stars move? I'm sure I read that somewhere.

This morning my mother told me that she would need me right after school.

"No way, mom," I said, "remember I have a date with my new friend Cristina?"

"You will not argue with me, Tracy. Dad is gone. You have to pull your weight."

I snapped of course. What would you do?

"You do not control me!" I shouted, "and don't talk about dad like that."

My mother is tall and elegant. Regal. I love her but sometimes she kills me. Her hands were on her hips, her head held high, she looked like she was about to step into a tango. I stormed out the room and out the house and went to school.

School is in the next town over, Alaior. It takes me about half an hour to get there by bicycle.

On the way there I obsessed over Cristina. What was I supposed to tell her now? I can't cancel another appointment. She'll think I'm strange. Or my family is strange. Or she'll think I don't want to be her friend. That was the worst. I decided to avoid her at all cost.

It was a maths day.

Luckily we had some other subjects before. History. Unfortunately I missed the units on piracy in Minorca. I America we only took up piracy where it directly involved US history. The class was deep in the Franco era now which is interesting too but not really up my alley.

I prepared and then discarded explanations for Cristina. My mom was sick? Nah. The neighbors needed a babysitter? Unlikely. Hm. What to say?

Maths came around and Cristina sat down next to me.

"Hey," she said.

"Hey. Uhm. I can't come today. I want to call my boyfriend in Seattle." (Boyfriend in Seattle? I mentally slapped myself. There wasn't a single photo of a guy on my Instagram.)

"Oooh, nice," Cristina said. "Though I do feel you are trying to find excuses not to come. It's going to be fun! You do fun in America, don't you?"

I blushed. "Yes, we do fun."

Cristina shoved me lightly on the shoulder. "See," she said, "much better already. Look. I want to show you something."

I followed Cristina's gaze with my eyes and they landed on a boy. Manu. I knew Manu but I doubted he knew me. He. Is. Hot. He has this creamy Spanish skin and black hair and dark, dark eyes. He has got this muscly body that isn't over the top gym junkie but just perfect. Like the world is his gym.

The moment I came into school on my first day, I ran into him and he caught me by the arm.

"You, new girl." he said.

"Uhm." I said.

"I'll see you around," he said and smirked. Then, in typical boy fashion, he never even glanced at me again. Even now, he laughed with his friends, probably about me, and never even looked over.

"Not him, silly." Cristina chided. "Manu's my boyfriend. No, the guy next to him, Alex."

My pulse quickened as I wondered if Cristina had seen me do big eyes at her lover. Then I looked at Alex and laughed.

"Are you kidding me?" I asked. Alex was painfully slim and rather short, almost as short as me. His hair was spiky like a 1990s punk rocker. His eyes were squeezed shut in laughter which made him look silly.

"He's a really cute guy. If you would hang out with us, you would know that," Cristina said.

At that moment the teacher called for the start of class and I was left wondering if Cristina was messing with me. After all, it would not have been the first time the popular kids in class did that to me.

The rest of the school day went by without incident and I was back on the road home. Menorca is really beautiful. The road threaded between rolling hills and fields of wheat. I breathed in the fresh country air and I cooled down.

It wasn't my mom's fault. My father left us about a year ago and the State Department sent my mother packing. I had no choice but to go with her, having heard not a word from my dad since he walked out for the infamous 'trip to the store for a pack of cigarettes.' He wasn't even inventive enough to come up with a story on his own.

My grandparents operate a restaurant in Mercadal. My grandfather used to cook and my grandmother took the orders. Now they both started to get too old and my mother and I gradually took over. The restaurant in on the ground floor of the house we live in.

When I arrived, I went straight to help out. I readied tables and cooked and then waited on the first guests. At one point my mother looked at me.

"Thank you, Tracy, for today. I know it's hard for you," she said. She gave me a quick hug and a kiss.

"I'm sorry I got mad at you mom. I miss dad so much."

"That guy was and idiot. You should forget about him."

I kept it together. I needed to win her over.

"Mom," I said, "can I please go out with Cristina tomorrow?"

"Okay," she agreed. "But don't stay out too late."

Now I'm back in my room, writing to you.

Oh, by the way, this is my room: I am, as I said earlier, in an apartment above the family restaurant. The windows of my room face East so I awake with the sunshine which is wonderful. I have white curtains that keep out prying eyes but let the morning light through. My bed is in the opposite corner, next to the door (I sleep head toward the door like I did my whole life). There's a desk on front of the window and a sofa to the wall on the right. Next to the sofa is my cupboard. My walls are plastered with posters of my favorite fiction characters.

Tomorrow is the big day. Should I bring a bikini in my bag or should I just wear it under my clothes? Will we even swim or will we only hang out on the beach? I'm aware that I'm probably over analyzing but what on Earth am I going to wear?

In the end I decided on a big T-shirt with a low back and a pair of jeans shorts. I will wear my bathing kit under my clothes because I have no idea what the changing room situation is on the beaches here.

I want to get my life together now. Make friends. Find happiness. Cristina seems like a good option. But if she is going to use me, screw her. I will find other friends. I'm at the end of high school, my youth is waning, if anything, and I have no time for fakers.