How I Became That Girl

 

After

 

Every story starts with a boy. Or, maybe, the stories end with a boy....

 

My story starts when Todd Fisher asked me on a date. I think that story ends about the time I sent him a sexy picture, sans the lace panty set. Yeah, I know, it was stupid. Everyone told me it was. At least, Emma and Meika did. Everyone else avoided me like I had the bubonic plague.

 

Oh, you haven't even heard the best part. See, the latter note about the sensitive black-blue swelling disease from the Dark Ages was because, of course, the picture was leaked. Even better, he leaked the picture on purpose.

 

So, here I was, painting my nails Bubblegum Pink when Meika called.

 

"Saylor, what the fuck have you done," she cried into the phone as I flipped it open, her loud voice making me flinch and pull the cell from my ear. My brows furrowing in annoyance and confusion, I screwed the cap back onto my nail polish and nestled the phone between my shoulder and ear to get a good look at my newly painted pink toes. Todd always liked it when my toes were pink, like cotton candy.

 

I could just picture Meika's wild black curls shaking as she screamed into the phone like a deranged Justin Timberlake fan. Rolling my eyes and looking up at my ceiling, I frowned. The spackle was cracked and the not-nearly-as-pink-as-the-can-had-promised paint was looking faded. And some of those stupid, glow-in-the-dark stickers were still there from seventh grade... Maybe I should redecorate? I saw this adorable Audrey Hepburn poster at Walls and-

 

"Saylor, hello?! Are you even listening?!"

 

In my defense, Meika was the definition of melodramatic. She freaked out when I cut my bangs in ninth grade using a pair of rusty kitchen scissors; she freaked out when Mindy Crenshaw started dating her older brother, Frankie; she freaked when a flimsy, blue dragonfly landed on her shoulder during one of the camping trips I had all but dragged her to in seventh grade.

 

"Of course I am-"

 

"Your cookies are all over Facebook," she said, making me stop mid-word. What?! Was this some code-red language for when she finally lost her virginity?

 

"What? Meika, what are you-"

 

"Saylor, your 'picture' is all over Facebook," she repeated although this time the message sunk in. The way she emphasized 'picture' was enough for me to clue in. My heart dropping into my stomach and my hands suddenly shaking, I lunged for the laptop that was resting at the foot of my bed.

 

No. No, this has to be... be some bad dream! Worst nightmare, definately not true. Nope, never true. She's just messing with you, I thought as I logged into my Facebook page.

 

 I didn't check to see if I was breathing, if my heart was beating, when I saw the notification. I was tagged in a picture. My shaking fingers scrolling slowly to the top of the page, I clicked on it. Bile rose in my throat, and my eyes stung with tears. Yep, it was me alright. Naked, posing for that charming boy, the one who tagged me on Facebook. And that, sadly, was how I became That Girl.

How I Met That Charming Boy

 

Before

 

Emma, Meika, and I had met That Charming Boy at a party. Frankie tried to flirt with a snobby girl, who just ignored him; Emma giggled; Meika played innocent and watched in, what I swore was rehearsed, horror as amber Jack Daniels dripped down That Charming Boy's stubbled, not-a-boy-but-not-quite-a-man neck; I played hard to get. Todd Fisher liked the chase, almost as much as he liked the kill.

 

It sounds bloody, 'the kill', and maybe, at first, it was. We tore at each other's throat with banter and zealous make-out sessions. We pretended to hate each other, although I felt a little thrill crawl around in my stomach whenever he made a comment about how I looked or smelled or tasted. Maybe that was the first red flag.

 

Todd and I didn't hang out, and fall in love like sappy teenagers in a Lifetime movie. Or, at least, he didn't. Nope. We just made out, regularly. At first, it was kind of exciting and fun. At first, I felt like I was on top of the world. At first, being a booty call wasn't all that bad.

 

Sure, it stung like a bad razor cut when I saw him with another girl, who draped herself around him quite like the way I did. And yes, I cried a few times, for all you who are just dying to know.

 

I had never had sex with anyone before Todd. See, not everything you hear is true. At my school, I had a four-way with a teacher, the MVP on the wrestling team, and two stoners who had a couple of blunts that we put to good use. Ha-ha! Who comes up with this-- excuse my French-- shit? Probably Missy Crenshaw, although for what reasons I wasn't exactly sure.

 

I was labeled a slut, for hooking-up with Todd Fisher, the guy everyone wanted to bang. It's not like I slept with him after that first party, and yet I couldn't count on my hands how many girls I had heard 'wanting to have a few go's with him', their words not mine.

 

I'm getting ahead of myself, aren't I? Okay, back to the party.

 

So, here we were, dancing at some lame party and wondering when life would get exciting when BAM! He enters the room. Anticlimactically, no one  else really seemed to notice him. But I did. I wondered how someone couldn't. I wanted to scream at the swell of grinding girls and drunk guys that surrounded him, 'Hello?! Do you not see the definition of perfection trying to get through your disgusting sea of cest and sex appeal?!'

 

He had these viciously cold, ice-blue eyes that made you feel like you were staring into the Arctic Ocean. They were almost grey. I wanted to just drown in the Arctic Ocean from then on. His skin was golden, sprinkled with sandy hair. And, ugh, his hair was like fucking sunshine!

 

And Sunshine Hair, later dubbed That Charming Boy, later dubbed Todd Fisher, was making his way towards us. I was kind of freaking out... okay, majorly freaking out. I turned to Emma, who was talking to Harry Frey, her crush since seventh grade.

 

"Emma! See Hottie at six o'clock? Is he looking at me? Is he coming over-"

 

She looked over my shoulder, before her eyes locked onto him. Blanching, she began stuttering. "Um, Saylor-"

 

"Shit! Does my hair look okay-?"

 

"You look fine," a deep, gravelly voice said from behind me. Squeezing my eyes shut in disbelief, I progressed to mentally curse myself. I felt my face flame but turned to face my self-confidence assailant. His hair did look like sunshine. Those grey eyes flickered down to my raggedy jeans and t-shirt before he said, "Although you look a little... underdressed."

 

My brain went on auto-pilot. After struggling through a few um's and uh's, I finally managed, "How sweet. Is that how you greet everyone you just meet?" The sarcasm in my voice was my natural defense mechanism, although when it came to things like Todd Fisher I felt like a flopping fish stranded on a dry dock.

 

"Just the cute ones," he shrugged. I rolled my eyes, pretending not to swoon on the inside. First rule to being a bitch: don't be all mushy 'Aww, you said I'm cute!'. It clashes with the whole sarcastic, intimidating image... but in Todd's case it was perfectly acceptable.

 

"Oh, I'm cute?"

 

"Sure," he chuckled, before turning away from me and giving Frankie the inevitable bro hug. Great... Frankie, my brother's best friend, knew Sunshine Hair. I wanted to crawl under a rock. Teasingly, Sunshine Hair punched Frankie's shoulder, and gave me a look that made my legs quiver and loins heat up. "Frankie, why didn't you tell me your sister and her friends were such babes?"

 

Meika raised a brow, partially in disbelief and partially in admittance.  Frankie chuckled, his ebony curls bouncing in the process, and shook his head. "Nah, man. Emma is the definition of virgin-"

 

"Hey," Emma yelped, her shoulder length blond hair held back by a 'not pink, Saylor. Peach. Peach!' headband that gave you a headache if you looked for an inappropriately long amount of time. It was almost a blinding shade of 'peach! Jesus, Saylor, learn your colors!'.

 

"-and my sister is... well, my sister. Saylor here though," he grinned, clapping a hand onto my shoulder, "is a tough bitch."

 

"Although," Meika said tossing those ebony curls I was immensely envious of, "I do love a good compliment."

 

Sunshine Hair grinned, his eyes flickering between the two of us. He looked as though he were trying to decide something. From me-- not quite hazel, not quite brown eyes, dirty blonde hair, slightly sunburned skin-- to Meika-- bright green eyes that left you speechless, enviable glossy black curls, and flawless olive skin. Something shifted in his eyes, something almost predatory, that made his Artic Ocean pools darken. He then, as though finally making a decision, turned towards me, his plump pink lips pulling into a smile

 

"Saylor... it's different. I like it," he smiled, leaning closer. I smelled like sweat and tanning lotion, from when Meika, Emma, and I had layed out in Emma's pool earlier that day. My makeup was probably melting down my face. And yet, Sunshine Hair was flirting. He held out a strong, calloused hand and put on that charming smile once again. "I'm Todd. Todd Fisher."

How My Best Friend's Brother Became a Friend

 

Before

 

"Saylor, Todd isn't exactly a good guy-"

 

"He's perfect, Frankie! Why hadn't I met him sooner," I cried, slapping his arm playfully. It was after the party. After Todd asked for my number; after Emma threw up on the rug of the host's; after Meika grew bored and dragged me from Todd; after Frankie struck out with Kim Hammers... for the fifth time.

 

Frankie, the only one in any condition to drive, had already dropped Emma and Meika off at home, leaving the two of us to sit in awkward silence as I dreamed of Todd Fisher. Saylor Fisher. Leaning into my open palm, my eyes sparkling even in the dark night, I let my cheek press against the cool glass of Frankie's Jeep. Todd Fisher... too perfect.

 

"I'm just saying, he has a history. I don't want you to get hurt," he insisted, giving me an almost brotherly look. I snorted and rolled my eyes.

 

"Please stop stealing lines from movies and drop me off at home, loser," I sighed, teasingly giving him a cheeky smile. He didn't return it, and only pulled into my driveway. We lurched to a stop, and he exhaled loudly and let his head fall against the steering wheel.

 

"Saylor... Saylor, I love you, but you're going to get bit in the ass if you poke this bear," he promised, looking up at me from beneath dark lashes and heavy brows. I rolled my eyes and crossed my arms in front of my chest.

 

"Thank you for the crappy analogy Frankie, but, really, I can take care of myself. I'm a tough bitch, remember," I laughed, before giving his hand a squeeze and slinging my purse over my shoulder. He didn't look at me, and only glanced out the driver's window. I opened my door, and slipped out of the Jeep, my sandals hitting the cement with a smack.

 

"Ahh... Do I detect a look of disapproval in your eyes," I asked, grabbing my pretend perfume bottle and spraying some in his direction. "Tough beans, buddy, 'cause that's the way it's gonna be." He didn't seem to understand my reference, and only rolled his eyes and started up the Jeep once again.

 

"Whatever. Goodnight, Saylor," he sighed crossly before putting the car in reverse. As he pulled out of the driveway, I cried, "Golightly. Holly Golightly! "

<3

I wanted to angrily bash my head against the kitchen table the next morning.

 

I woke up to the sound of Beacon screaming into my ear about breakfast, and a garble of toast crumbs flying into my ear like minature meteors. Little brothers were disgusting; little brothers while having a hangover was like God punishing you. Grumbling and trying to get all the salivated burnt toast crusts out of my ear, I pulled the covers from my body and reached blindly for the terry bathrobe I had lying somewhere around here. My head pounded, and the light that strained through the dark purple drapes was blinding.

 

Peeking out at me from beneath a pile of quasi-clean clothes that had been lying in shambles on my floor for months, I finally found the robe, and pulled it on.

 

"Saylor, breakfast," my mother called from downstairs. 'Thanks Mom,' I thought sarcastically, 'I hadn't figured that when your evil spawn nearly fried my eardrums.'

 

Trotting down the creaky stairs, the smell of black coffee tickled my nose. I hated black coffee; my mother loved it; my father used to drink it straight, before he died. I stumbled into the kitchen, still groggy and fogged, and collapsed into one of the rickety oak chairs. Next to me sat Hope, her wide brown eyes studying me like she had never seen a hangover before. Well, she was three.

 

"Morning," my mother said, her voice monotonous, her back facing me. She, hair held at the nape of her neck, was skeletal and had tired, crying eyes that were red and puffy. Filling a coffee cup with shaking hands, she set it in front of me, like a zombie. Now would be the time my father would enter the kitchen. He'd jog into the kitchen, whistling off-tune, and place a big fat kiss on my mother's cheek. He would have the newspaper in hand, and tap me on top of the head with the roll, chuckling about my bedhead.

 

It was kind of fucked up, how he died. He served in the Navy SEALs for almost fifteen years before getting in a car crash right by the local Get N' Go. That's how we Remington kids got our names. My dad used to say, 'Every sailor has to find their beacon of hope.' Well, now I have both Beacon and Hope. Literally.

 

"I got really drunk last night," I said, taking the coffee cup and getting from my spot at the kitchen table. She didn't bat a lash when I turned towards the sink and dumped the contents of the cup down the drain.

 

"That's nice," she muttered, sounding just as monotonous. She didn't meet my eye, as I arched a brow and glared at her from in front of the sink.

 

Our kitchen was tiny. She looked at the powder blue fridge that was older than the both of us. She looked at the green kettle that was moldy and had been sitting in the sink for months now. She looked at Hope, who was sitting in her chair, looking at me from beneath camel lashes and doe eyes. She couldn't avoid my eye contact forever, but she seemed very hell-bent on trying.

 

"What does drunk mean," she asked, her grubby fingers pulling at the hem of the grubby t-shirt I hadn't changed out of from the night before. Her mouth was full of toast and jelly, making her fingers sticky to the touch.

 

 "Nothing," I mumbled, biting the inside of my cheek, "And, you know, Mom, I met this guy. I think I'm going to have sex with him. Like crazy, hard-core sex."

 

She didn't even flinch.

 

"What's sex," Hope asked again. I sighed, and turned towards her. We all looked like our dad. Same pert little nose, same copper brown eyes, same tingy dirty blonde hair.

 

"It's when a boy puts his key in a girl's... key hole," I muttered, grabbing a washcloth from the white, wood drawer under the sink and wet it with warm water. After picking Hope out of her seat and balancing her on my hip, I began to wipe off her face.

 

"So, when Pete Henry gives me the key to his-"

 

"Okay, go get ready for school," I cried, loosening my grip on her, and setting my sister on the floor. After she scampered out of the kitchen, I pulled out a chair across from my mother.

 

She wore one of my dad's old t-shirts, and you could see the lining of her periwinkle underwear that bagged and sagged. The glint of the dark dog tags caught my eye, and I felt my stomach roll.

 

"Um, Mom," I said quetly. Her eyes flickered from the long L shaped cut in the oak table to the cup of cooling coffee. "Mom, are you going to work today?"

 

"Maybe... maybe," she mumbled, her eyes lost and cloudy. I thnk that's  why I messed up so badly. My mother was sick; my siblings were a handful; my dad was dead. I needed to feel safe. Unfortunately, that was in the arms of Todd Fisher.

How My Best Friend's Brother Saw Me Naked

 

After

 

 "Jesus, that motherfucking asshole. I am going to kill him," Meika seethed, rubbing my back as I sobbed into her pillow. She had everything. Ice cream, old Audrey Hepburn movies and shirtless Channing Tatum movies, pillows, Kleenex's were piled around us. The tissue box was empty though.

 

The shirtless movies only reminded me of the shirtless picture. The ice cream made me think of the pale bit of chub that had showed in the picture. The pillows reminded me of the way I fell back onto my bed, naked, after taking the picture.

 

A loud knock at the door made us both jump, and I looked up to see Frankie standing in the doorway. He wasn't as greasy anymore. Nope, since dating Mindy Crenshaw he had become the perfect gentlemen. Instead of making the expected 'Hey, Saylor, I saw your picture. You're kinda hot naked,' he just blushed.

 

"Uh... the p-pizza's here, Meika. And Saylor," he added, nodding at me. I raised a weak hand, letting it fall back into my lap with a hallow slap of skin against skin. Meika chewed her lips before jumping from the bed.

 

"I'll go get that pizza."

 

An awkward, pregnant pause built in the room as she shuffled out the doorway.  Frankie still hung in the doorway, his large frame awkwardly smushed against the door frames; he wouldn't look at me. At one point in time, Frankie and I would tease each other about everything. Anything. I knew his biggest secrets; he knew mine. Clearing his throat, his cheeks still burning, Frankie broke the silence.

 

"I told him not to send it, Saylor... I'm sorry. I-I should have... I don't know," he mumbled, his dark brows furrowing. My face flamed. He had seen it. Fuck. Frankie Lopez had seen me naked. Shit. Fuck. I want to die.

 

"Please don't make me talk now. I-I'm on the verge of throwing up," I mumbled, glaring at the laptop I had lugged to Meika's house. We tried to call Emma, but she had band lessons. The Facebook page glared at me, teased me. I felt the bile begin to rise in my throat everytime I glanced its way.

 

"Right... Look, Saylor. What people are saying... I sitll think you're a tough bitch, you know that right?"

 

I laughed, a dry humorless laugh, and bit my bottom lip. Tough bitches could take a sexting scandal, right? "Totally, Frankie."

 

"And... Saylor, I don't want this," he said, his face flaring red once again, motioning to what would be breasts on the female anatomy, "to ruin the relationship... between us."

 

"Of course, Frankie," I smiled, a deviousness sparking my interest when I added, "And you know, we could fix that. You'v seen mine, now I need to see yours."

 

I swore the kid would faint. His eyes grew wide and his jaw slacked slightly. The tinge of pink returned to his cheeks, and he shifted, a dark brow arched. I felt like I was under inspection, when his eyes roamed my body and his breath came out odd and shaky.

 

"Okay, bitches," Meika cried, making us both flinch as she stormed back into the bedroom, a grease-spotted box of Tino's in hand, "how are we getting revenge on this sick prick?"

 

"I-I'm going to go take a shower," Frankie mumbled, his breathing shaky.

 

"Maybe a cold one, Frankie-boy," I snorted, and Meika gave me a look.

 

"Were you trying to seduce my brother," she asked once it was just he two of us. 

 

"No. We were plotting revenge," I insisted, reaching for the box of pizza between us and attempting to distract myself with a piece of greasy cardboard and pizza sauce. She just rolled her eyes and plopped down onto the bed, grabbing a piece of pizza for herself from the spotted box. I glanced at the Facebook page once more, my lighter mood darkening. I had reported the picture, but the only thing that had happened was the unlimited supply of comments weighing down on my chest.

 

Ew. Her boobs sag lol

 

This is disgusting. Ho.

 

Id thought shed look httr naked... DX

 

Wtf !!! someone has daddy issues

 

Anger making me cry out, I slammed the laptop shut.

 

"Saylor," Meika smiled half-heartedly, "we're going to get him back. I promise."

 

 

How Mindy Ruined Everything

 

Before

 

 "He's so going to dump your ass," Mindy Crenshaw snapped, glaring at me from across the cement and chlorine oasis we were tanning on. I didn't bother reminding her Todd and I weren't even dating, and instead raised a brow, lifting my sunglasses to get a good look at her. Meika, Emma, and Frankie had left the pool for five minutes; it took her half of one before insulting me.

 

"Whatever," I muttered, grabbing hanful of chips that were sitting on the hot concrete between us and stuffing it into my mouth. What did Mindy Crenshaw know about guys, except how to make them less sloppy, I wondered as I made a face and munched on chips. Eyeing her with the decent amount of dubious annoyance, I rolled my eyes.

 

The sound of Todd and a few of his friend's splashing in the pool put me at ease. He was here, with me. Sure, he introduced me as 'my friend, Saylor, who can hook us up with some good shit' to the few of his friends who had scraggled with, but I didn't let it bug me too much.

 

"I'm just saying, he's getting bored. You won't put out, and you probably suck at kissing. Honestly, why is he with you," she continued. She was just the poster-child for self-confidence bulldozing. Giving me an icy glare and her upper lip curling into a snarl that reminded me of a rabid dog, she added, "I mean, Frankie and I have a great relationship. We never get bored of each oher."

 

"I bet," I swooned mockingly, my voice sounding breathless and awed. The plastic strip of the chaise lawn chair dug into my thigh, the smell of chlorine attacking my nostrils. The cement was hot under my feet as I jumped from my spot in the sun and stretched, the lining of my bikini riding up a bit.

 

Mindy, jumping at the oppurtunity, added, "I mean, that least you could do is send him a nipple shot or something. I feel kinda bad for the boy." She sighed, laying back down in  her chair and adjusting her sunglasses. "He's chained to a tease."

 

 Before I could snap some icy comment back, the sliding of the glass door announced something to keep my mind off the seeds she had planted in my head.

 

"Hey, girlies, we've got the best tipsy Arnold Palmer on this side of the state," Meika cried, right before parading over and handing me an embelished, pink-umbrella-ed drink. The side of the glass was sweaty, the inside promising cold, sweet iced tea, Emma's mother's homemade lemonade, and half a bottle of Grey Goose. I smiled over the lip of the drink before taking a gulp. Squelching the summer heat, I smiled at the sour and sweet taste swathing my mouth.

 

"And I have been dubbed 'Most Secure in his Manhood' especially if I can carry this frilly shit around with me," Frankie laughed, helping Emma as she carried out a nicely set tray finalized with a pitcher of sweet tea, another tall pitcher of lemonade, and a flower arrangement that made me wonder where the fun juice went. Meika, sensing my confusion, grabbed her purse and exposed the neck of the familiar bottle from behind the purple fabric of her fake Prada.

 

"Just be glad my parents went to their all-day Jesus convention," Emma insisted, setting down the tray and falling back into her chair. I couldn't help but notice she only had a straight lemonade.

 

We all adorned our swimsuits, the girls' skimpy, the guys' clinging to their legs, soaking wet. Todd, Kyle, and Gage, all sopping, climbed out of the pool, cheering as grabbed the remainging glasses and chugged the stuff like they had grown on it. Todd smiled at me, from over the rim of his cup. Meika scowled.

 

"C'mon, Saylor," Todd teased, placing his cup on the concrete by my chair, "you gonna get in the water or what?"

 

"Mhm," I sighed, taking another drawling sip of hard lemonade, and shook my head. "How about 'or what'?"

 

 "Sorry, babe," he exhaled, plopping down on the edge of my chair and sending my stomach into a tizzy when he said 'babe'. The droplets of water that fell off his tanned, broad chest pooled onto the plastic, trickling towards me until they fell in between the cracks and onto the hot cement below. I met his Arctic blue eyes and admired the blond hair that clung to his sopping forehead. "But, your answer is invald."

 

Before I could figure out what he meant, his arms wrapped around me and I was hoisted from my spot. Thrown over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, I couldn't decide if it was insanely hot that he was carrying me, or a death wish.

 

"Todd," I yelped, my weak hands fisting against his back, my legs swinging but getting me nowhere. "Todd! Todd, put me down!"

 

My wish was eventually granted, Todd throwing me mercilessly into the pool before cannon-balling in afterwards. My tanned, warm skin prickled with goosebumps as the cool, contrasting water engulfed me. Chlorine fought through my nasal passages, bringing an insufferable burn with them. Opening my eyes, I watched as frothy bubbles began to subside from the surface, and a tangle of tan, muscular limbs tread water next to me. I think we broke the surface at the same time, breathing hard and laughter bubbling from his throat.

 

"Oh, you should have seen your face," he chuckled, shaking his head like a dog and letting droplets fly through the air, miniature water missiles. I scowled at him, and the water missiles slapping against my face, and pushed his arms from me, placing distance between us.

 

"That wasn't funny! My makeup is probably running down my face," I huffed, although I coudn't help but smile also. A mocking sad face, worn as a mask on his strong features, teased me, his golden arms wrapping around my middle.

 

"Saylor," he sighed, raising a brow teasingly. "Oh, c'mon, I think you're still pretty cute."

 

 

Impressum

Tag der Veröffentlichung: 10.07.2013

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Widmung:
To Austin, who, although you're probably not reading this, is the bestest friend ever, for someone who spends half his time watching the ever so climactic NASCAR! :D You've been there for me when I needed you, so, this one's for you!