Lullabies

It was early March. Middle of the semester. The days seemed to drag on endlessly and we as the students just pull along with it. With all the drama at school, how many students actually learn here? Five at the most. And those are probably the blind and def ones how can't hear insults and can't see how horrible they look. I guess that'd be the perfect world if your into that...

“Haha, Marcy look, Armstrong is such a freak.” Ashely snickered to her best friend. Pointing over to where two boys kicked around a football in the grass. I watched them intently. The sun made the grass glitter emerald and I simply loved the color. But the two boys made something special ro me that I'd never let the other girls in on. One boy had blond, curly hair. He had a sturdy build. He's eighteen... I think. Well graduate at the same time I think. I know his name by heart, it's Billie Joe. He has these light green eyes and is downright adorable. Wait... Am I Fangirling? No. Absolutely not. I don't fangirl over the unpopular. They are far from being anything called 'popular'

Billie does drugs. He drinks. He parties, not the perfect guy I was thinking he was eh?

I guess I'm just jealous of him... He is laughing and having fun with his friends and he is free. While I am here, pretending to enjoy being submerged in the drama and stress filled stories of my so called friends. I actually did enjoy the company of a choice few of them. Jane and Chloe and Jade. They were a little more sober to the popular act the others dragged out every day. They listened to different music. Jade was not a cheerleader. But she fit in quite nicely with our group because of her connections to the surrounding Rodeo community. So her fathers job earned her a nice spot.

Chloe has cropped black hair. Wild green eyes and has quite a temper when you get her mad. She is tall, but also short in a fairy-like cute kinda way. She has tanned skin. But not from sitting on her patio in the California rays in a two piece. She does a lot of adventuring around the state. From volunteering for different charities and rallies. To taking hikes into the national parks and solo camping trips. Solo Because her parents; are much like the rest of ours.

They are business men and women who have better places to be and things to do then stand in the middle of a forest getting lost willingly. That's what our parents called hiking. Chloe is the only one in our group that does any kind of outdoor sports. She was on the cheerleading team last year, but dropped out because practice was cutting in on her hiking schedules during the week. She was a nice asset to the pyramid too.

I glance back to the boys. They play next to a picnic table where a boy with raven brown hair sits. Course I know his name, I know all of their names because they are related to Billie. Mike, Tré. And then this one girl... Her name is Erica Paleno. And she is... Billie's current girlfriend. They've dated for a year and a half and from my daily watching, I don't see any kind of fracture in their relationship promising a breakup... I'm so selfish. I should be wanting his happiness. Not devising ways to spoil it.

I know a little about him too to know he deserves every bit of happiness he can get his hands on. His dad died when he was ten from cancer, and he is really protective of that fact and I've seen him punch guys out cold before for shit talking his dad. He has grown up a lot since kindergarten. Yeah... I've been watching him across the field that long. I was never the normal girl who thought boys were icky. But more so the one who wanted them to notice me. I failed at that tactic a lot... And more then I'd like to admit. In kindergarten, he had curly brown hair, that he has since dyed. The cutesy dimples and even the lightest trace of golden freckles across the bridge of his nose. He had sung this song at the age of five and gotten it produced. And well after that everyone on the playground thought he was a big shot. His sudden success had pulled him farther from my view then I'd like to accept.

He had friends on the playground. But hadn't met Mike until he was fifteen. So I suppose we were alike in that ray of light. Neither of us had genuine friends to surround ourselves in. I persisted to get him to notice me though.

I remember one time. It was the last week of school. It was hot and kids were running around the playground. He sat on the bench under the all too familiar oak tree situated in the middle of the yard. I wanted to watch him without him knowing. So I scrambled up the tree a d sat on a branch. My parents insisted on Mary-Janes and sun dresses to school everyday. So I never had a say in my fashion. I crouched on a branch. But couldn't see him well. I crawled up farther onto a thin branch that I doubted could hold me but sat there anyways. I looked down upon his constantly curly hair. He sat alone while watching the playground activity swirl around him without a sideways glance.

I scooted up a little farther and heard my kindergarten teacher, Mrs. Fisher call out to me to be careful. I nodded to her and gave her a thumbs up when the limb broke under me and the air was knocked out of me upon impact to the ground. Lucky me, Billie turn around and was looking at me laying there floundering for a breath like an idiot. So I started laughing to assure I was fine and ghat he could look away. That only made my limited breaths harder to come by. Teachers were frenzying around me and I swatted a few of them away because they were embarrassing me. They instructed in sit on the bench— next to Billie. Until they got back with some ice for my head, which seemed to have a bump now. I felt like an utter moron and I'm sure I was blushing the shade of roses while I sat there. He looked over at me every so often. I think more out of politeness then anything else but whatever. At least my fall had alerted him of my presence. I could breath again. Well sort of...

He had those same soft green eyes he'd had back then. His hair had lost some of it's curliness. But it was certainly still curly. Even blond he looked nice. He wasn't extremely tall. But Mike looked tall, and Billie was only an inch shorter then him. So I suppose that classifies me as tall doesn't it?

“Hey Kirsten, why don't you invite Armstrong to the party tonight? He is a boozer right?” Marcy hissed at me from across the table. I looked over at her. She had shoulder length curly light blond hair. A firm build and brown eyes and icy white skin despite living in California.

“Why?” I ask nonchalantly. Not giving up that it offended me to willingly intoxicate the boy.

“Cause he looks like some kind of party animal. He'd be a nice asset. Don't you think?”

“He doesn't look like he travels alone.” I say. Casting a look over at Erica, Mike and Tré. The short kid with scruffy brown hair who was paddling on the table top with two sticks.

Marcy waved her hand dismissively “Oh alright. Invite them too. I don't care, I just want to be sure you are there tonight Krissy.” she smirked at me. I laughed.

“Yeah ok. I'll come.” I agree.

“And don't forget to invite Armstrong!” she hooted. Rising fro the picnic table to go to class. I looked over at their table again. And he was looking this way. Crap... He had heard her. Damn Marcy can never keep down.

I smiled shyly and stood up. Gathering my text books into my backpack when a gust of wind sent my skirt up and a war of hoots and hollers sounded from their table. I blushed but didn't look at them. Just yanked my skirt down and started back for school.

After all of my classes. I stood in front of my locker and glanced over to see Marcy and Jane inviting the great holler group to the party tonight. I blushed at the memory of what had happened earlier. Maybe I'll wear jeans tonight...

Tonight we are going to hang out at Ashley's parents condo on the beach. Her house is literal minutes from the shore and it has the most beautiful sunsets. I've been there a couple times before so I know what to expect. I exit the school and climb into my car. I drive home playing my music. Not that pop crap the cheerleader all listen to and seem to have made it a customary rule that you must listen to that to be a cheerleader. They obsess daily about that kind of music.

I parked in front of my beautiful Victorian style home where I lived with my mother and father and was an only child. Though my best friend Jack hung around the house enough to count as the second child.
Jack is 23 to my eighteen. Sweet eighteen when I can move out and have a life of my own. It'll be great right? I'll have the best job and live in the best house and surround myself in my high school friends. I went inside to the empty house. At least it was empty until I heard Jack call out a greeting from the attic. I stood on the second floor, pausing in front of my closed door and gazing questioningly up at the hole in the ceiling with the attic latter extended from it. I sighed and dropped my book bag. Kicked off my heels and climbed the ladder in my nylons. It took me a second for my eyes to adjust to the darkness. The only source of light was from the small oval window at the opposite side of the room. I believed for a moment that I was alone until I saw Jack rooting around in the corner through some old boxes.

“Check out this Kris. They are ancient!” he exclaimed excitedly as he pulled out some dresses from a tall cardboard box. From a hobby my mom had started a good twenty years before I was born. She collected celebrity dresses. And with my dads well paying job, she could afford the hobby. She had dresses from Dolly Parton, Angelina Jolie, Julia Roberts and a bunch of other actresses I'd never heard of but mom insisted they were just 'before my time'

I'd rolled my eyes at her comment at the time. But now I gazed fondly upon the silky peach dress laid across the top of a cardboard box labeled 'Memories'

I raised an eyebrow questioningly at my moms title of choice for the box then shook it off. Had mom ever actually been normal? Probably not...

I toyed with some stray sequins on the neckline absentmindedly while Jack pulled out a deep magenta dress from the box and held it up in the light to admire it.

“Why are you looking through dresses, fag?” I laughed as he sat ghat dress aside.

Fag is the name I'd given him because he is such a gentleman. He opens doors for ladies, has manners that belong in the earliest century. He is always thinking about everyone else and has an odd interest in old dresses and stuff like that. That's why him and mom bond so well. So I guess the name fag blossomed from his own hobbies. I had to laugh about that.

He rolled his eyes at me and chuckled as he leant over the edge of the box to pull out a royal blue dress.

“Ya know it wouldn't surprise me much if your mom didn't have Dorothy Gale's dress.” he snickered. 

The lovely Wizard of Oz dress.

“Don't change subject.” I laughed as I pulled the love seat couch out from under the little window and brought it closer to the box he was examining. And sat down, gazing up at him for his answer.

“I was curious.” he excused.

“About what?” I rounded.

“You and your questions. Can't have a normal conversation ever can you?” he laughed. I shrugged and then shook my head.

“Aren't you supposed to be getting ready for that party tonight?” he asked.

I shrugged “It's Ashley's party.” I sighed.

“You don't like her do you?” he smiled.

“Am I really that transparent?” I sighed

He nodded cheekily and I slapped his arm.

“Mean little thing today aren't you?” he smirked.

I shrugged and then grinned. We always had these kind of sarcastic arguments. They never really became arguments. Just misunderstandings where we use sarcasm on each other and some pretty nasty names get called but we all get over it and life goes on.

“I don't have anything to wear.” I whined.

He snorted “You? Kirsten Sarah Abnathy have no clothes to go to a ritzy party in? Even after daddy gave you his credit card?” he smirked. He loved poking fun at my fancy, rich upbringing compared to where he comes from.

Jack Houston. Lives on Birch Avenue, three blocks from here in the smaller neighborhood. In a small one story house painted a light grey with white trim and a lone tree out on his flower choked front yard. Did I mention he still lives with his mother? Yeah the wonderful 23 year old still lives with mommy and he hates when I poke fun at his own upbringing. He plays guitar, drums, piano and is planning to begin bass lessons this summer. However I couldn't play twinkle twinkle little star on the harmonica. Whereas he is amazing at playing music and I always tried to encourage him to join a band or start one. He flounders and says its not for him. I laugh and we hang out for the remainder of the day without s second thought on the idea. He is good at wiggling out of discussions.

“Come on. You could wear one of these then.” he smirked, holding up the pretty peach dress again in front of my eyes. I did like it but I just felt that it was too dressy for some house party on the beach. 

“Any others?” I ask. He digs around and all the ones he pulls out are far more dressy then this one is. Its pretty. Strapless, peach color with silver colored sequins around the neckline. The bodice is tight and the dress is a free silky fabric. It's knee length and is like waves. The skirt beginning at left thigh and gradually gets longer down around the knees. I ruffle the fabric and debate rather or not mom would even let me borrow it. Jack read my mind.

“You could leave before your mom gets home, and come in late so she doesn't see it.” he bargained. I looked over the dress again to see if the risk would even be worth it. I flash Jack an evil smile and nod. Taking it from his hand and draping it over my arm and running out of the attic and practically jumped down out of the ceiling. Stumbling into my room, I set the dress on my bed and turned on some music while I sat in front of my mirror rebrushing out my hair. It is a light blond color with natural honey highlights.

I apply my makeup slowly, eyeliner, mascara, eye shadow. Then shiny peachy colored lipstick to match the dress. I pull the dress over my head and put on my silver heels to match the sequins around the neck. I put on the silver angel necklace I'd gotten for my sixteenth birthday from my grandma Marie before she passed away. It made me feel happy to wear it. I looked at my refection. My now curly hair set in a bouncy frame around my face. 

I heard a knock on the door and my heart beat out of my chest thinking it was mom or dad. But instead Jack peeked in.

“Nice.” he grinned before fully welcoming himself in

I smiled at him before ruffling my hair and putting my stuff into my purse.

“Your parents get home at five. Better get going there Curse.” he grinned.

And there it is! His infamous nickname for me. Since my name is Kirsten, first part is Kirs. Which to him is Curse so yeah, no particularly special meaning. Or mainly because I am a bit of a klutz. For whatever reason, I like my nickname much better then Fag.

I nodded as he hugged me “You look awesome tonight! Go, have fun. I'll see you tomorrow sometime probably. Speaking of which would you like to hang out in the beach tomorrow with me?” he asked hopefully.

I nodded in agreement. “Yeah. We can do that. See you tomorrow Fag.” I laughed, exiting the room and jogging down the steps to the foyer.

“It's Jack!” he reminded me, laughing.

“Yup I know. See you tomorrow!” I called up to him as he appeared at the top of the stairs. Waving me goodbye as I walked out the front door in my borrowed dress. Who would have thought that was the last time I'd see my best friend Jack Houston?