Words We Live By.

It was a beautiful day in California. Trees stood tall above yellow rose bushes, overflowing their designated growing space, spilling over onto the tile patio that surrounded the Epherson’s pool. And while a few people splashed around, as others strolled the white-and-teal walk, they do not matter. We are not here for them. We browse past their peach and strawberry drinks, un-phased by the tropical umbrellas, bobbing on slices of fruit. Heads down, we shuffle past the lounges, stark white with navy-stripped covers. We brush off the tall, tan bimbos in their pink and yellow bikinis, that in reality look as plastic as their owners. We are not here for them.

We slid our bear feet over the tiles, warmed with the sun Hollywood is so famous for, dampened with water dyed blue from excessive chlorine. We glance at the ferns, cowering behind the roses and under the palm trees, kept alive only due to a drip system carefully hidden, undoubtedly wrapped around plants to prevent it from drifting.

We slip our hands together, tuning out the talk of all theses party-goers. We are thankful to be invited, but do not really care for anyone here. Camile Epherson is a typical Hollywood teen- dirty rich, and always ready to prove it. Not that she needs to- everyone knows the name. As if seeing her holding her daddy’s hand on the cover of the tabloids every day isn’t enough. She didn’t so much invite us as she did invite the world. We knew that no-one else of our group would be around- they avoided these kinds of scenes, where half the group would be baked and the other half drunk by six o’clock.

We were never among them, but our parents encouraged us to be ‘normal.’ They couldn’t have their kid’s status affecting how many acting or modeling jobs they got. So we worked out a plan- mention a few popular kids, talk about the main gossip, and go to the parties. Not all- just the main ones. Besides, it was time together. And what couple of sixteen year olds turn that down? Especially us. We could not risk being seen together anywhere- our parents were dating. It was getting serious. We had already been refereed to as siblings a few times, either by classmates or friends, or perhaps elders, the tabloids, others. People who could make our little family a scandal. So we found corners, showing up after most people were to fucked up to recall what they’d seen the evening before. Like here, now.

We’ve climbed the only tree other than a palm in this yard. It’s a plain orange tree, and most of the year would be useless in our quest for secrecy, but has recently dawned a sheet of blossoms. We’ve said hello to enough people, some sober, some drunk, that people will mention we were here. Of course, we go separately. We reach the tree separately. No-one can know- one snob with a decent memory could throw everything we have, and everything our parents have, right into the dumpster. But here, now, it’s alright. We’re safe. Far away, in the back corner, high in a tree. The Ephersons are too rich to have neighbors close enough to be any threat, and we revel in this.

I feel I’m steady enough, but is he? A tumble could be a disaster. I turn, glancing up at David. He swings his head before settling against the trunk, which throws his blonde hair upwards, out of his brown eyes. I can’t help but smile as I look at him- he’s beautiful. I know, I know- we’re not supposed to say that about guys. I don’t really care, thou. It’s true. He’s got an amazing nose, that turns up just the tiniest bit at the end. His face is narrow and long, and his cheeks are not quite hollow, but definitely not full. His eyelashes are long, and nearly touch his cheekbones as he relaxes into the branches before opening his arms in a gesture for me to fit myself into them, like the puzzle pieces we are- the only pieces of the jigsaw in a bucket of legos. And we fit together like magic; each surface covered.