Reach for the Sky

“What the fuck are you two doing?” The dye brush I held to Jolene’s scalp stopped dead for a moment and dripped bleach onto the tile floor of the kitchen as Andy regarded us with horror. I didn’t blame him, really; Jolene looked like a tin-foil-and-brown-dye monster from hell with her legs up on the granite of the counter (she was waxing while I bleached her highlights), and the kitchen counter was covered in a plethora of beauty products ranging from hair dye to a bowl of blue bleach, nail files to acetone and hot wax fresh from the microwave. We had an speaker out and it was blaring a decidedly eclectic playlist from my iPod through the house; we had sent the boys out to play in the backyard earlier and hadn’t expected them to come back in so soon.

“Getting ready for our photo shoot tomorrow.” Jolene was nonchalant; her snappy reply prompted me to finish the highlight and close the foil over it quickly.

“You’re all set, Jo.” I cleaned out the bowl in the sink while Jolene measured out my color and sat me down on the stool; Andy stood affixed by the overly-feminine behavior in Travis's manly kitchen, and was soon joined by most of the men in the house.

“What are they doing?” Travis murmured to Gregg, and was answered by Tommy.

“It’s some sort of preening ritual.”

“Yeah, one girl makes the other look like a futuristic poodle and the other makes her look like she’s suffered a massive blow to the head,” Gregg referred to the blood-colored dye on my head - maintaining a bright, nearly fire-engine red, a more becoming color than my natural strawberry blond, was tough work. The microwave beeped, signifying that the wax was once again hot.

“Could one of you bring that over here? Be careful! It’s hot!”

Travis nearly spilled hot wax down the front of his shirt, and placed it down on the countertop, where he remained to watch in horror as I applied it to my legs and quickly removed strips of hair. Jolene had done the same thing, but hadn’t had an audience and was allowed to lotion the leg she had managed to complete and roll a sock over it in peace. I however, had to field questions as if I were in an interview.

“How do you do that to yourself?” Godfrey’s eyes were wide as he watched the strips fall into the trash can.

“Well, people tell me I have a high threshold for pain,” I shrugged.

“Also it’s more convenient. If we wax, then we don’t have to shave for about a month.” Jolene supplied.

“Less clogged drains in the house,” This comment brought groans, every single one of the guys had experienced a clogged shower drain at one time or another - the Pastrana house was like a college dorm, the bathrooms were all communal, weather one wanted them to be or not. What had been the most shocking part was the fact that a credit card could undo any lock in the house (outside doors excluded) and the guys were apt to use the trick in times of need - I had been in the shower, lathering up a storm, when Andy stormed in and took the smelliest, loudest shit I could ever imagine. I hadn’t managed to forgive him for it yet.

I hummed along with the Danzig which reverberated throughout the kitchen as I finished waxing a leg to the knee before I had to stop and direct Travis on how long to put the stuff in the microwave in order to continue.

“Jesus you’re fast, I only got one leg done while you were dying me!” Jolene sounded slightly indignant.

“I could probably do it when I finish mine,” I offered.

“If you’re that fast, I think I’ll pass. I don’t want to draw blood,” I didn’t protest, but offered again in another ten minutes, as Travis put the wax in the microwave one last time.

“Honestly, it’s less painless when it’s faster. Just put your leg up,”

The boys watched as Jolene balanced on one foot, and brushed leftover blood-colored dye into my hair as I painted hot wax onto her leg.

“So are you guys just doing this all day?” Travis sat cross-legged on the kitchen counter as I finished Jo’s leg.

“I hope not,” I said, as I rubbed lotion on my legs and pulled knee-highs over them before I began to clear away the dying things, replacing them with nail polish remover, nail polish and a can of quick-drying spray (which Jo and I loved because we never had time to sit and wait for our nails to dry). Emery board and clippers in hand, I began to re-shape my fingernails while sitting on the counter beside Travis. “Why, have something in mind?”

“I thought maybe you’d teach me how to shoot one of those shotguns of yours,” Eyes wide, I turned on him, brandishing the emery board.

“Travis Alan Pastrana! That is so not a good idea!” He pouted, so I continued. “Like I want to take the gun out in the backyard and proceed to shoot someone on the hell track! That sounds so awesome!” In order to regain composure I began to file again, amid Jolene and Travis's combined laughter.

“She’s right, that sounds really stupid Travis.”

“But there’s a shooting range on the other side of town,” He sounded like a whiny child, and with that sly grin on his face, I knew he was mocking me. But I had been looking for a place to shoot for a while, just to make sure I hadn’t lost the talent or something.

“Oh shut up! We’ll see how quick Jo and I get in order.”

“Scottie! It’s time to start rinsing me out!” Jolene practically whipped me off the counter by the arm, amid protests, which she silenced with a look that probably could have melted ice. Clutching my nail polish and shrugging at Travis, I followed Jolene into our room, where she pressed play on her iPod so we could talk without the boys eavesdropping.

“You need to go shooting with him!” She rounded on me as I patted Achilles’ head - the big dog was never more than a few feet away from me, especially not since the trip.

“Why? Is this a life-or-death thing?” I began to paint my nails, wondering what had gotten into Jolene.

“Are you boy-dumb or something?” When I raised an eyebrow at her, she continued. “God Scottie, Travis does nothing but talk about you and look at you! That one day, when you and he were riding around on your quads and he pulled a backflip, he looked at you as if your approval was the only one he needed, it was so adorable!”

Was Jolene trying to get my hopes up or something, was she just trying to get me to act like a frightened little girl every time I was around Travis? I glared accordingly, and then sighed. What she had said made sense; most of the people who came to the compound were just there to learn to backflip, and most girls left as soon as they learned it to keep the guys (and the girls) out of trouble. But somehow, I had been deemed worthy of staying. I had always just attributed it to skill or something, chalked it up to luck. But if neither of those two things were important, I definitely didn’t really want to stay at the compound any more. I relayed this thought to Jolene, and she rolled her eyes.

“Hello, stupid? You’re here because I’m here, we fulfill a certain demographic, we’re both chick riders, only you’re the cute tough one that rides quads and beats Travis on a motocross track every time and forces him to continue in roManiacs even when you had two broken ribs.”

“How did you know about that?” I asked, blowing on my nails because we had left the fast-drying stuff out on the counter in Jolene’s haste.

“Travis told me. He gushes about you when you’re not around. I‘m sick of it, so you two just need to get together and fall in love and make beautiful crazy babies.”

“I’m going to kill you!” I called after her as she made a beeline for the bathroom. I remained perched on my bed, painting my nails and wondering why boys were so difficult. Honestly, I could throw a three-hundred and fifty pound quad around into a backflip, and could beat anyone on the hare scramble track I had designed with Travis as the newest addition to his backyard, but boys? They could say I was sexy all I wanted to and make me pose for photographs, but I was probably about the most sexually awkward woman on two legs.

I finished painting the last nail - dark blue, which I preferred over Jolene’s signature black - and wandered out into the kitchen with Achilles, looking for the can of fast-dry. Travis was still sitting on the counter, watching the microwave as if it would cook his miniature pizza faster.

“How do you cook those things in the microwave? I can not eat rubbery food.” I sighed, and began to spray my nails while Achi left me, to befriend the nearest person with food.

“It’s faster. I don’t do slow. When do you want to go to the range?” Speaking of fast… I rolled my eyes and pointed at my head, which was still covered in dye.

“You have another hour to sit around, at least. Go backflip something.” God I was going to kill Jolene.