Amy Nelson
"No!" I yelled once more. "I am not going to wear that!" I made a disgusted face at the lacy almost not-there bra that my friend, Lisa, was holding up in front of me as we walked.
"But it's your birthday present. You have to wear it," she said, putting on a puppy face smile. "Please?"
I shook my head determinedly.
"Okay. Fine," she surrendered. She stuffed it back into the Victoria's Secret bag and handed it to me. At the same time, she pulled out a compact mirror and started applying lipstick.
"I don't know how you multitask like that. I can barely even eat and read a book at the same time, let alone package skimpy lingerie, press red ink on my face, and flirt with a guy at the same time." I stared at her as she smiled and waved at a young teacher, also gesturing things that shouldn't be legal to people under 21.
"What? He's hot and single. I looked him up online. Don't ask," she explained.
"Sometimes I wonder why I still hang out with you. Maybe I should ignore you," I threatened playfully.
"You know that you couldn't. You'd never leave somebody who needed you. You should work at a hospital or pound or something. You're too nice to be a cheerleader, little Miss I'm A Virgin And Don't Believe in Deflowering Myself Until Marriage.
"Oh god." I rolled my eyes at her. We found our lunch table and sat down, empty of any signs of food. That's one thing that Lisa believes is part of the cheerleader image. Apparently, being Nicole Richie-skinny was popular among cheerleaders. The only foods they ever ate were salad and meatless soup. According to Lisa, if you eat fat, you get fat.
"Ooh, look over there. It's that new guy on the football team. I hear he's good with computers too."
I turned and saw him. He was facing away, so all I could see was the blonde hair on the back of his head. Across him was Mac. Mac and I were friends in high school, but we kind of drifted apart. We still talk and hang out every now and then, but not much else. He was wearing a zebra striped hoodie over a black shirt with purple and green stripes. He was drumming the table with old beat up drumsticks. How skater could you get?
I turned away and looked around the campus. It was a cool day, so not a lot of people were eating outside. In fact, I think the computer football dude, Mac, the cheerleaders, and I, along with about 8 or 9 other kids, were the only ones eating outside. I guess Californians can't stand the cold. Even if it's only 65°. How pathetic.
"Hey," whispered Lisa, interrupting my train of thought. "Football guy is staring at you."
I turned around and saw his face. As soon as my eyes locked on his icy blue eyes, I got dizzy. Everything meant nothing. Cheerleading, school, Californians, meatless soup- it all meant nothing. The only thing that mattered was him. I could live my whole life staring at him.
And I didn't even know his name.
