As a child, Ginny was demonstrative.
It was a gorgeous Summer day. One of those rare occurrences when the sun's powerful heat was welcoming and the stickiness of sweat was somehow a comfort as it seeped forcefully through your skin. Ginny and I sat silently on the Country Club lake-front, each of us lost in our own thoughts.
The grass that led to the waterfront was perfectly green, crop short and silky smooth underneath my fingers. The trees that lined the land whispered softly to each other, their leaves swinging dreamily in an inaudible dance. Back-and-forth. Back-and-forth.
With Ginny and I sitting in our pretty white eyelet tops and khaki shorts, I'm sure we looked like an image on a postcard; curly manes of hair sweeping to and fro in the gentle wind. Perfectly at ease. I leaned back on my elbows, slightly in Ginny's shadow as she hunched over bent knees, picking determinately at her pale pink toenails. We'd both slipped our shoes off – Ginny because she wanted to feel the grass between her toes; me, because I always followed Ginny.
"Her eyebrows were knitted together as she plucked violently at the chipping polish. Her mother had insisted that Ginny have her toes painted in the nail shop in town, because according to her mother, Ginny was now "a little woman." I watched her grit her teeth and argue with her mom in the smelly shop for half an hour until she relented. As her mother sat across from her, chattering away with the lady doing her nails, Ginny wore a similar expression to the one that now marred her pretty face. She was thinking; plotting.
"Kitty, do you see that orange tree over there?"
"When Ginny spoke to me, she rarely looked at me. No matter, I always answered. I knew better than to leave her questions unanswered.
"Yes Ginny, I do."
"I could see the side of her mouth quirk up in a smirk. These little signals; the half smirk, the narrowing of her fierce green eyes, the crossing of her lanky, powerful legs meant without question, that Ginny was about to assert her dominance.
"Go get one."
"I looked back to the Country Club; hoping desperately that my mother would declare it time to go, but knowing that she wouldn't. She was busy sipping Sangrias with Ginny's mom and flirting with the busboys on the outside cabana; thinking foolishly that Ginny and I were out here playing "Tea Party" or "House" like normal girls.
"Smacking the dirt off my hands and rubbing the temple of my head, I sighed defeatedly to as I rose to my feet, thighs weak, legs wobbly and padded to the towering orange tree.
"From the top kitty."
"She had yet to lift your eyes from the grime underneath her toenails.
"She just kept picking.
"I was never athletic or coordinated. Ginny knew that I was too weak to climb that tree and too craven to negate her demand. As I looked at the top of the tree; with its branches touching the sky I saw Ginny move my periphery. She was leaning back on her elbows now, watching me with challenging, amused eyes; bangs framing her face, freckles dancing around her cheeks.
"With bare feet, I slowly started to climb the tree; oranges smacking me in the face, branches ruining my pretty, white top – brown on white. I could see her snickering in the background, but I refused to look back. And of course, as I continued my ascent, gangly and uncoordinated as I am, my foot lost it's purchase on the scratchy wood and slipped. Hanging pathetically, from a lone branch, I gripped the wood with feeble fingers digging into the branch. Ginny didn't move – she just continued to watch me with the same perverse enjoyment she had earlier. With no help in sight, I continue to swing. Back-and-forth. Back-and-forth.
"As the sun beat down on my skin, no longer welcoming or friendly, I struggled fruitlessly, trying to swing myself back to the trunk of the tree. After what seemed like forever, my mother and Ginny's mom trotted down the lawn. They would've been comical, in their kitten heels and pastel, linen skirts, if my mind wasn't so focused on the throbbing pain in my shoulder.
"Hermione's stuck in a tree," Ginny needlessly called out to our mothers as they approached. Now picking at the blades of grass on the perfectly manicured lawn, she looked bored with my predicament and slightly disappointed in me. Her monkey didn't dance quite well enough for her.
"Kitty, get down from there," my mother called waving her hands around wildly. She and Ginny's mom grabbed my waist and pulled me from the tree.
"Aww, look at your top Kitten. It's a mess."
"I'm sorry mom," I muttered, head down, shoulder tingling.
"Never you mind princess, I'll get Maria to clean it tomorrow." She tapped my nose with her long triangular nail and patted my cheap. Then she swayed slightly as Ginny's mom grabbed her elbow and spun her around.
"Come, Molly; let's get back to the booze and the boys" Ginny's mom hiccuped.
"Arms now linked, they drunkenly sashayed back to the cabana to continue their lunch date.
"I still don't have my orange Kitty." Ginny was still picking at the grass.
"No Ginny," I mumbled.
"From the top Kitty," she directed.
"And so it went. Back-and-forth. Back-and-forth.