How I Did It

Chapter 2

Gym was as awful as they make it seem. There isn't any public humiliation of a single person, but everyone in gym class looks like a fat girl who can't run. If I was smart I would have signed up for a sport like Ping Pong instead so I wouldn't have to take gym. Now I'm stuck with Coach Vaus for a whole semester.

"Un-be-lievable." I panted. My palms dug into my knees as I struggled to catch my breath "How many laps have we done Coach?" I yelled to the masculine man standing on the sidelines with a smug smirk on his face. He only laughed in response.

A football player came from behind the stands and talked to Couch Vaus. As he took off his helmet and shook his hair I could tell exactly who it was and my breath hitched. My knees trembled from the sight of him and exhaustion. The ground came in contact with my butt not a moment later  and I laid on the turf. My head faced sideways so I could watch Tristan talk to Coach Vaus.

Tristan looked out over the field and spotted me. I saw him chuckle and he waved at me. That dazzling smile would have made me fall over if I wasn't already on the ground. I held my hand up in hello then let it fall back down on the ground.

After that I would have expected anything other than him to come help me laying right in the middle of the track, and that was the opposite of what he did. He laid down next to me and I hoped that he thought my heavy breathing was from running. We were so close, our faces only inches apart. He smiled that brilliant white smile and I made the stupidest mistake that Maggie nor I would never let down.

I said, "I have to use the bathroom."

~oOo~

"You said what?" Maggie ogled at me in disbelief.

"I don't know, I panicked!"

"Well don't panic!" She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Look, YouTube has been my savior sense fourth grade. Just type in whatever boy advice you need and random teenagers will give you exactly what you need. Sometimes it helps to watch advice videos from boys because they should understand more. Trust me, YouTube is a Godsend."

Maggie blinked in surprise when I wrapped her in a hug. "You're a genius in case you didn't already know." I pulled back as she mumbled about how she's known that for a long time. Jackie honked her horn and I waved bye to Maggie ready to spend the rest of my night on the Internet.

I sat on my bed barefoot, eating a gallon of ice cream, and watched videos on YouTube with my laptop balanced on my knee.

What I had learned that night:

1. While not all boys are evil, they are all incredibly stupid.

2. Guys don't like makeup, they like girls who are pretty, which is normally because of makeup.

3. If you're a cheerleader, it doesn't matter that you're ugly.

I had taken actual notes and it was all I found even the slightest bit useful. Except I already knew number one, I don't wear makeup for number two, and I will never be a cheerleader for number three.

I went to bed and promised myself I would give it another try some other time.

~oOo~

The first week of school went by in a flash. The teachers gave us homework on the second day. Tristan would get in trouble everyday for turning around in his seat during class, he would visit me during P.E. everyday, and somewhere in that time span, we exchanged phone numbers. It was too good to be true and I braced myself for the day it turned bad. Maggie commented on my stiffness and told me to enjoy it while it lasted.

It was Friday night and I sang at The Floor tonight like always. I had taken singing lessons for as long as I could remember and was what you could say, 'a prodegue'. Not even Maggie knew about my talent or where I went every Friday night when everybody else was at the football game.

The Floor was a hangout for people from the age twenty-one and up. They had a bar, a dance floor, and karaoke. I had the time 8:00 for my special time on the stage and I was secretly allowed to stay for the rest of the night until they closed. I wasn't allowed anytime other than Friday nights and took advantage of the opportunity with a late dinner and dancing.

My parents may not understand on a lot, but they did understand that The Floor from times 7:55 to midnight was my alone time. The rest of the weekend was available for all the boating and fancy restaurants they wanted. It helped that they had never been to The Floor and didn't get that it was a seriously hard-core club.

Jackelyn dropped me off with a huff. She was only twenty and hated that I was allowed to go somewhere she wasn't. Another reason why I love The Floor.

I squished myself through the mob off people grinding under the flashing lights. The newcomers gave me confused looks like, "Why is this kid interrupting my exotic, interpretive dancing?"

I made my way to back stage and one of the handy woman, Sasha, wiped out her bright red lipstick and smeared it on my face. She handed me a mic and winked, mouthing a 'good luck' before sending me on stage.

I chose Friday nights to look my best. I wore a nice white blouse with a pair of dark denim high-waisted shorts and shiny black lace up flats. My hair was less frizzy than usual and the curls were prettier. The blood red of my lipstick was so the guests' eyes would be drawn to my lips as I sang.

I had picked out to sing If I Had You by Adam Lambert last Sunday and practiced it all week. I downloaded the sheet music online as I do every week. I love Adam Lambert, but I had no real connection to the song. It was the same routine as every week.

I sat in the stool waiting for me and sang the way I was taught. Everyone stopped dancing and stared at me for a moment before dancing to my song again. Once it was over a round of applause circulated and made me smile. They clapped every weekend, but it flattered me every time.

I walked back stage and receive high fives from the handy men and women and the next singer on stage. Sasha whispered to me once before that I was better than all of the others, but I didn't believe her. They were all just as great if not better than me in my eyes.

I made my way back to the crowd of people and received many 'amazing job's and pats on the back. It always felt good to get so much appreciation but for some reason it still didn't feel like in my head that I had done the best I could with my performance.

I danced with whose who it was obvious they snuck in a fake ID and were probably no older than eighteen. For a second I thought about Tristan, but we were only friends. Why would it matter? Still, I felt bad about it afterwards.