It's Friday morning and I'm in the process of dragging my tired body out of bed and into the backyard in hopes that some sunlight might bring me back from the dead. I step out in the behind the house into what the girls and I affectionately call "Compton." Half greenery/half pavement it is the saddest excuse for a backyard I have ever seen. The green consists of about twelve types of weeds that mysteriously and disgustingly grew more than a foot in two weeks. It has been proven by doctors that I'm allergic to about ninety percent of the wildlife that lives in the backyard. I make myself comfortable anyway.
I tip back in a decomposing lawn chair and stretch my legs out onto the tree stump imprinted with beer caps that decorates the middle of the pavement. Shielding by makeup smeared face from the blazing sun, I wonder where the rest of the girls were. My bet is that at least a couple are at boys houses and the others might be working out or getting food. I'm happy to not be engaging in any of those things. The shoveling of flaming hot cheetos and mangoes into my mouth before I went to bed last night has resulted in a bloated stomach and the probability that I won't be hungry until later. The thought of doing something active and strenuous right now is a joke. The idea of being with a boy at the moment is even funnier. I catch myself saying "Yeah right" out loud as I scroll through the Facebook updates on my Blackberry.
I am already starting to get hot even though I have only been in the backyard for about three minutes. The beating sun and lack of wind proves to be a little more than I can handle right now. I look down at my white t shirt now stained with flaming hot red residue and my brother's old fish patterned boxers. I decide to dispose of the gross tshirt, but opt to keep the boxers on. I can imagine the shock our ancient neighbors' faces if they would happen to look over the fence and find a nearly naked me. With the state of my hair and makeup they would most likely think one of the local crazies had crawled into our yard. We just don't need the police showing up here, do we? Keep the boxers on.
I sit like this for a while, with my eyes closed, thinking about everything and nothing in particular, when suddenly I hear a bedroom door open and a male voice. I know I definitely recognize it, but I can't seem to place it. It's not Miranda or Ginna's boyfriends, nor is it the voice of one of the many boys Keslee circulates. Then I hear Bailey's undeniable little giggle. I don't have to look to to know that her nose is scrunched up prettily and her laugh lines have surfaced around her emerald eyes. Whoever the mystery man is, is probably eating it up. Bailey's appeal for guys is that she appears to be innocent. She looks like she's the type of girl who forms friendships with her professors, calls her older relatives every day and volunteers during her free time. She's pretty and sweet and boys love the thought that maybe they can turn her bad. The thing is though, that Bailey isn't all that innocent. The act deserves an Oscar though.
I can sense the inevitable awkwardness of a goodbye coming on. Bailey HATES awkwardness. We all do, but Bailey has an exceptionally low tolerance for it. Just one slightly weird hello in passing with a random will leave her cringing for days. I decide to step in. If I don't Bailey will bitch endlessly and it's not like I'm doing anything worthwhile at the moment. I straighten up in my seat and look over my shoulder, momentarily forgetting that I'm not wearing a shirt. I try not to let the pair register the shock on my face but I'm sure it's useless. Standing in our living room in a white v neck tshirt and black jeans is Charlie Thompson. Charlie is a sweet guy I've known since freshman year. We don't exactly roll in the same crowd but he's well liked and it's always good to see him. Except maybe now. When I look like a prostitute in an old red velvet bra that my friends and I often laugh about. I look around for my shirt but it's no where to be found. I sneak a peek at Bailey who's trying to articulate about a million things through her eyes. I'm too frazzled to try to interpret. I know that if I get up and run into my room Bailey will kill me so I have no choice but to stay there, outside, without a shirt on and make conversation.
"Hey Noe! Whatcha doin out there?" Charlie laughs a little. He is the first to break the awkwardness that I have established from just staring-without clothes on. He is a very cute guy. Definitely attractive, but not really my type. Maybe too quiet. He is however, everything Bailey dreams about in a man. He's kind of sensitive, he's smiley and wear rings. The wearing of rings means he likes to express himself according to Bailey. He's in a Maroon 5 knock off band and has long curly brown hair that sweeps his face and complements his tan skin and green eyes.
Bailey looks at me like I've lost my mind and she and Charlie exchange a look. "Ha, yeah we do kind of have the same color eyes, Charlie." Bailey says sweetly, while trying to move the attention away from me.
"Nice observation, Noe." Charlie says in my direction. He's doesn't look away from Bailey though.
"Ha yeah, sorry for my appearance. It's hot out here!" I again regret what comes out of my mouth. I need to shut up, I need to leave. I'm not sure what my problem is. They both look at me again. "I'm sorry, it's painfully obvious that I needed to stay in bed for a couple more hours." They laugh and I realize that the only way I might be able to salvage myself from further humiliation is bolt. "I might just do that."
I look around again for my shirt and luckily find it. Now covered in dirt. I throw it on in a way that I hope doesn't attract too much attention. I don't think it does because Charlie and Bailey are back into conversation and don't seem to notice the freakshow in the backyard anymore. I say goodbye to Charlie's back and duck into the direction of my bedroom but not before sticking my tongue out at Bailey. She smiles teasingly at me and give her a dorky thumbs up and do a little jig. Because the gods are getting such a kick out of my morning, at that exact moment Charlie turns around to see what Bailey is looking at. He catches me, thumbs up, legs outstretched in the most awkward way imaginable. I straighten up immediately, laugh awkwardly and book it to my room before I can do more damage to my reputation. I can't wait until Charlie reports back to his friends of our odd exchange. Happy Weekend.