Hello August, Please Be Good to Me

Chapter 3 - Help! I've Fallen and I Can't Get Up

JUNE

The newest iPhone is as good as mine, though I still don't see the need for my dad accompanying me. I think I'm perfectly capable of buying my own phone. After all, I was using my own money and buying it no-contract, which is crazy and unheard of in my circle of friends. My dad and I wait in line to be helped, and I look around the store as people, young and old, all seem to be there for the same reason. I wasn't crazy enough to camp out and wait for the phone the day it came out. In fact, I had waited a precautionary fifteen days before making the trek to the Apple Store, parental figure in tow. I see one girl who looks to be in elementary school and I scoff at the fact that her parents are giving her a smartphone. When I was in elementary school, I was perfectly satisfied with the High School Musical CD and played it until it had scratches on the bottom. This is how monsters are made, I think as I glare at the little girl. I'm more than convinced, especially when she has the gall to complain about the color. Really? I ignore her spoiled self and focus my attention back to the front.

When it's my turn, Dad and I listen politely to the employee as he lays out the design and features of my new phone, but someone catches my eye. Just another counter line from us is this freckled boy with deep, gray-blue eyes. I think of Abby and her obsession with freckles, and I guess too now see the light. I can't help but stare as he stands with one hand in his pockets, running his fingers through his hair. God has done you well, I smirk, then tense up when his gaze catches my own. I freeze instead of quickly averting my eyes -- thank you awkward gene -- and instead of reacting in any reasonable way for a guy who's just caught some random girl gawking, he smiles back, and turns back to face forward in the line.

"Alright Ms. Moore, your contacts have been transferred over," the employee says, and I whip my head to face him. Who knows how long I've stood there awkwardly silent. I thank God for blessing me with my own sunshine which contrasts with the thunder clouds outside and snap my Tangled theme case on my phone. It's perfect. "Anything else?" the man asks, and I take the moment to read his name tag so I can properly thank him. "No, I think I'll take it from here, Victor. Thanks!" I whisper a silent goodbye to the beautiful stranger, glad he's preoccupied with what appears to be a Mac desktop (I could never part with that much money, ever) and Dad opens up his umbrella when we step outside. "Paying seven hundred dollars for a phone, that's ludicrous!" I don't bother responding to his rant, as we've been through this conversation many times. His permission was all I needed, and no guilt talking from him would make me change my mind. I had just upgraded from the iPhone 3G, and couldn't be happier. No more behind the times for me. I snapped a picture of me grinning proudly to post online, with the caption, "Just did a serious upgrade. Please, hold your applause". Dad continues talking, though now it's more of an incoherent mutter, and flicks the radio on without preamble.

As soon as we get home, my brother can't wait to pounce on me. "Let me see the goods," he reaches for my phone but I slap his hand away. "Dude, chill!" I slip my hand in my pocket and pull out the new device, glaring at him. After I unlock it, I place it in his hands and let him go to town. "Woooow, this is awesome." I can't help grinning in response and take a seat in my beanie chair. "I know. Much better than your Samsung, right?" He frowns and pretends to swat at my face. "Don't talk about my phone." Plenty of families fight over plenty of things. Our house just happens to be divided by the age-old Apple vs. Android.

I lean forward and make a mowing sound as I move my hand across his hair. "Time for a haircut, don't you think Danté?" Before I know it, my phone is back in my hands and I'm alone in my room. I knew he'd leave but I never could have foreseen him nearly breaking my door handle in an effort to escape. In my opinion, my brother looks like a furball with his curly, dark brown hair. While I sometimes envy how different it is from my own, I'm not at all jealous of the look he sports half the time. Would it kill him to pick out his hair? Dad and I sometimes plot how we'll secretly shave off all his hair in the middle of the night, but Danté makes sure to leave a trail of crap leading up to his bed just in case we try something like that. I wish I had a dollar for every time I've fallen victim to the homemade booby trap and drawn attention to my presence. 

I place my phone down beside me and reach for my sketchbook. In this action, I accidentally knock over a small stack of papers. I look down to pick them up and groan out loud when I see it's just my UCF acceptance letter and other college-related papers and information, all things I can also access online. Why was it so hard to gather some enthusiasm about going to college? The pros more than outweighed the cons, and who wasn't excited about leaving Tallahassee for at least the next four years? And Orlando was one of my favorite cities to be in, but it all felt hollow to me. It could be the fear talking, but how do I answer the question of what, when even I can't place my finger on it? I could say it's because I'm ready to start my life...but I don't even know what that "life" consists of. My frustration boils over in a rush, and I let out a loud groan. 

"Anything else want to stress me out today? I'm taking requests."

"As if the universe is granting wishes, the beautiful stranger from earlier pops into my mind without warning. If I'd been thinking clearly, I would have snapped his picture when he wasn't looking. It doesn't matter though because my memory is decent enough. I feel like the old ladies in the Life Alert commercials exclaiming how they've fallen and can't get up, and realize that I too have taken a fall. Professional help not needed though. I'm still grinning like an idiot and in a much better mood when my brother comes back in to ask if I want a sub sandwich from Publix and I quickly wipe off the smile on my face. The last thing I need is him playing 20 Questions.

"Yeah, and make sure they put banana peppers on it this time!" I call after his retreating figure. Danté is notorious for forgetting to check the orders of food other than his own, and I want my banana peppers, damn it!