Afternoon ~ About 3:30
Around 3:30, I am rudely awakened by Yoji splashing water on my back and yelling something about my skin being the same color as my hair. Damn it, I thought I had discovered a way to avoid them. Picking up my head to glare at him suddenly turns into a painful undertaking. Why…? My eyes fall to my arms, which I had had folded under my head while I slept, and am greeted with a most unsightly image. Yoji is very right—my skin does match my hair now, but only in certain places. On the top, from a few inches below my elbows to where my T-shirt sleeves end, is a solid stretch of brilliant, lobster red. To top it off, there is a perfect sketch of my hand on the right one, which probably meant that…yep, my left hand had sacrificed itself for my arm. The underside is still blindingly white. I'm guessing the back of my neck and left side of my face matches, judging from the way it hurts like hell when I move just a little bit. A curse on red hair and blue eyes! They will forever remain the evil henchmen of the sun.
Yoji is caught between the urge to
burst out laughing and be sympathetic, which twists his face into a very odd
expression. After a moment, it's clear
the mirth is winning. "Shut up…" I
growl at him, examining my over-cooked arms again.
"I think there might be some aloe in one of these bags here…ah-ha!" After a minute or so of rummaging he had
manages to unearth a bottle of greenish goop.
I don't think it looks particularly appealing.
"That looks disgus--," is the
only thing I have time to say before he flops down in the sand and pulls me
into his lap. I think I shall have to
kill him later for that.
"No, no, it's really nice! It'll make
you feel better." Yoji is now grinning
like the idiot he is and somehow resisting all my struggles to escape.
"I'm fine! Let me go, dammit!" Fantastic, there's a mother nearby that now
has to explain to her curious children why the two grown men are 'acting like
mommy and daddy.' I elbow Yoji as hard
as I can in the gut, and scramble upright, panting from the exertion. The unburned cheek is now flushed to match
the sunburn judging from the temperature of it. People are…watching me….
I'll be lucky if I have even a shred of dignity left when this is
over. With a snarl, I shake off Yoji's
hand and stalk off to find some relief from the relentless sunlight. To think, the idiot had the nerve to try and
touch me in public! I barely let
him come near me even at home, and that's only after a thorough survey for possible
hidden cameras, wiretaps, or other such devices, and a definite schedule of Omi
and Ken's comings and goings had been acquired. Call me paranoid, but I have a reputation to uphold here.
Hothead introverted to his own anger that I am, I do not realize until it's much too late that I had waltzed right into the midst of Ken's impromptu volleyball game, which happens to be still going strong from hours before. Stupid, stupid, stupid…. Maybe if I walk very slowly and look straight ahead he won't notice me.
"Oi! Aya! Play with us?"
How foolish of me to compare Ken to a dangerous, albeit dim-witted, large animal. I don't mean to, it's just that he seems to fit the description so perfectly more often than not—slow and naïve when at rest, swift and deadly when provoked. I think he knows I will refuse without a second thought, but he feels obligated, for the sake of being a decent human being, to inquire regardless.
"No," I answer shortly and turn away.
"Come on Aya, please? We're one short since Naota had to leave." Naota? He's already on fist name terms with these people? I will never understand Ken's affinity for charming the socks off every single person he meets. It must be the way he emanates 'dumb jock' from ten yards away and seems to have 'harmless' written in big, blinking red letters across that vacant expression of his. The general population likes that sort of personality.
"No."
"Come on, it'll be fun!" I do not feel the need to respond any further—no means no, and Ken should understand that, especially coming from me. "Please, please, please?" Must he make a spectacle of himself and everyone else wherever he goes? Ken is now crawling on his knees through the sand, until he's begging right at my feet. Out of the goodness of my heart, I decide to ignore my groveling co-worker instead of smashing him over the head with the first thing that came to hand like I would most other days.
I continue to wander down the shore, Ken's pleading voice drowned out by the sound of the water and the people enjoying them selves. The heat along with the commotion whichever way you look is a dizzying combination. If I don't find some shade soon I'm either going to faint or have a nervous breakdown, complete with homicidal rampage. Shouldn't there be a bathhouse near here? Café maybe…? Even a dead tree would be better than nothing. Ah…there's a concession stand with a few sheltered tables. That'll do just fine, and perhaps the other three won't find me for at least an hour….