Too Damn Early In The Morning
I roll over; my legs are twisted in the sheets but I don’t care, and bury my head in the pillow. The orange fabric covered cotton is a good mask for the sunshine I’m trying to ignore. I want to keep dreaming; I’m in Disney land and Robert Pattinson is begging me to go on Splash Mountain.
Unfortunately I have just eaten twelve chilly cheese hot dogs and can not physically move. But God, he is so hot and I want to ride with him, screaming while holding his hand, so bad.
A cart selling six foot high Pixie Stix and fairy wings along with vampire teeth and cotton candy backs up right in front of me. Beep. Beep. Beep. I trip.
My alarm is going off for the tenth time this morning. I hit the snooze button for the tenth time this morning, permitting another five minutes of heaven with Robert. We get into the long tunnel leading to the ride and he grabs my hand. Katie get up, he says. I shush him and smile, saying it’s going to be alright- all he needs to do is calm down; the ride isn‘t that scary Rob.
Seriously Katie you need to get up. Robert starts shoving my body into the fake rock wall of the cave. Impact. Release. Impact. Release. Impact. Release. Stillness.
Wtf?
“Katie you have to get up or you’ll be late, mom says so!”
I roll over and star at my sister’s concerned face. Mom says so huh? Mom says that you don’t need to add sugar to Captain Crunch. Mom says to turn down the music. Mom says to stop at yellow lights. Mom says that tattoos and drinking promote promiscuity. Mom says there’s no point to teenage obsessions with sexy male vampires.
Considering the fact that what Mom says isn’t realistic in any way, shape or form I can’t see how her telling me to get up pertains to any actual necessary action.
Alexandra is the cutest seven year old I know. She has wispy golden brown hair and brown eyes flecked with caramel. Her face is covered in freckles, with dull pink dusted over her cheeks. She is standing over me on my bed wearing a pair of rainbow long johns, a purple tutu, bright yellow t-shirt and an expression of impatience.
“I’m up Lexy.” I moan throwing the sheets back.
She jumps off, satisfied, and runs out of my room slamming my door. The impact makes the dust above my door frame explode. I sit on the side of my bed rubbing my eyes. The clock is trying to tell me it’s seven forty five. I don’t believe it because I’m still asleep.
I don’t know what day it is. I don’t know my name. I don’t know if I’m a virgin or not. I don’t know that the world is near it’s end. I don’t know if my body still functions properly.
I get up and walk to my bathroom. Apparently it does.
The best thing to do in a situation like this is to just keep moving. I pee, that’s always first on the list. Then I go out to my closet, quickly shuffling through hanger after hanger of crap. I grab the first two things that seem comfortable, a short sleeve black dress and a dark green plaid jacket with a grey hood.
By the time I have put them on I realize that it’s Wednesday and I’m extremely late.
I run to the bathroom and try to be quick as I brush my teeth. The flat iron is working better then usual and my hair was already pretty good when I got up anyway. I move on to making myself acceptable. Foundation, pretty green eye shadow, eyeliner, one coat lengthening plus two coats volumizing equals big lashes. All are essential elements.
On the way out of the bathroom I spot a black object on my white floorboards. I jump onto my bed and scream assuming it’s a spider. Heavy footsteps sound up the stairway. My dad throws open my door and walks in.
He is wearing a pair of dark denim jeans and a black blazer over his dark blue shirt. My dad looks almost exactly like Alexandra but with less freckles, slightly darker hair and a finely shaved beard and mustache- not like an old mountain guy beard, it’s a hey-look-at-me-I’m-the-CEO-of-OfficeMax. Yeah that’s my dad.
“What’s wrong Katie?” he says.
“There’s a spider over there.”
I point to the danger zone. He navigates his way cautiously through piles of clothes and books and junk. I see a bright pink thong in one of the piles and moan, apparently though, he doesn’t see this because he turns to me with a mask of pre-aggravation.
“It’s just a pile of black thread.”
“Oh.”
He starts to walk out of my room, but then turns around to ask softly.
“Do you want breakfast?”
“No.” I hate breakfast, it makes me nauseous and he knows that but he always asks.
He leaves and I look at the clock. Seven fifty five. I scramble around my room, shove my clothes in the closet, pull my comforter back and spray some perfume on before I grab my bag and head for the hall. The floor of the hallway changes fast from beige carpet to black hardwood stairs as I fly forward and down into the middle of the living room.
Black floors, white walls, red framed French doors, neutral colored-relaxed chairs, tan framed windows, wooden bookshelves filled with ins and odds in one huge open space- all of it is imprinted into my brain from seventeen years of repetition.
I stumble to my right and turn facing the opposite direction of the stairs, heading into the kitchen. It’s light green walls, white cabinets, light colored wood, black countered design were all hand picked by Mom who is now standing next to the fridge assembling a peanut butter and jelly sandwich- the only thing Alexandra has eaten for the past month.
Lexy sits on a stool on the opposite side of the island, swinging her legs as she waits. I am the photo copy of my mother, long platinum blond hair, wide and bright blue eyes, medium sized lips- Mom always says that are faces are strong with soft edges and that’s pretty accurate. I’m five six, one hundred twelve pounds while she is five four, data requested unavailable. The only difference in style is that she wears minimal make up and her hair short and curly while I prefer long and straight with side bangs.
I run by and into the mud room and the end of the house.
“Shoes, Kathryn Marie!” I hear her shout from her post as official Lexy feeder.
“Shit.” I mumble.
I frantically dig around in the pile of crocks and DKNY black pumps and magically pull out some of mine. They’re a pair of purple ankle boots, they don’t really match but it’s all I’ve got at the moment. I shove them on, shout my undying love to my family and jump out of the back door.
Earth. Air. Earth Air. My feet sing as they run. I run. Everything is dizzy. Maybe because I didn’t eat breakfast. I hate breakfast. Groan.
Dirt path. Fire pit. Dock. Lake. Trees. Trees. Trees. Fields. Lots of fields.
Finally the huge barn comes into view, large white with blue trim. I slide the double doors over on their tracks, the sun bursts in and shines light on the two rows of stables.
The girls; Bobet, Nancy, Willard, Kevin and Hayley, are kept on the right side while the guys; Leonardo, DiCaprio, Edward, Janis and Shamous are on the left. To my right is the saddle room with all of our equipment. To my left is the hay room with a ladder that leads to the hay loft above.
I look at my phone once more before I put it in my backpack. Two minutes until eight. I cuss, grab a bright purple saddle blanket, and run down to Hayley’s stable- I don’t have time for a saddle. Wrong day for a dress.
I lour her out of the stable and to the dirt trail with a handful of sugar cubs and brush her down while she chomps. I beat the ugliness out of the saddle blanket like I was hitting my ex-boyfriend and throw it over her back.
I am a bad horse mommy.
I grab on to her main and bounce a little with each number. One. Two. Three. I jump and throw my right leg over her while pulling against her hair. I make it and take a deep breath. I’ve been riding horses my entire life and I’m still afraid of it; scared to death.
I know the only way to do it is to just get it over with. I wrap my hands in her hair and fold my legs against her side then kick her. I dig in and try to find a rhythm as she rockets down the path and onto the dirt road. It’s too fast and too scary and I’m slipping.
I always feel like I’m slipping, even though I never have, so I grit my teeth and deal with the fear. The house flies by and then in a couple of seconds is completely out of view. The country side of New York is something of great beauty and timelessness unless your riding late on a horse in a dress because your parents refuse to by you a car even though your dad’s a CEO and you have to go two miles down the road to get a ride because the bus doesn’t come this far out.
I pass by Paton’s house, he’s left already and the house is dark grey even in the morning sun. Manville’s Crib is printed across his second story window. I laugh as I bounce by.
Galloping. Galloping. Galloping. No stop. No breath. No end.
Just as I’m about to sacrifice myself to the dirt road Holly’s house come’s into view. Yellow siding, blue roof, white trim, clone guest house. I know it as well as mine.
Holly Wood’s Parent’s had a sick sense of humor in relation to name giving but their daughter doesn’t care when we call her Hollywood. It’s her name. Forever.
How does one describe Hollywood? Hollywood is an explosion of color, personality, curiosity and compassion. She is loud jokes and silly laughs, crazy hair and I don’t give a damn, popcorn spilt on movie night and oh-shit-you-made-me-pee-myself, she is hot boys and loud parties, sitting in her room reading at midnight, glow in the dark stars and hey I used to eat glue too.
Hollywood is my best friend.
We even have the same birthday; September twenty seventh- we are both exactly seventeen years and eight months old today. I calculated it on the ride here.
I lead Hayley to the field, hope off and take the blanket off her, set it on the wooden fence and close the gate behind me as I run across her front lawn and into her house.
Her parents have left for work and the house is empty beside for her and her Maroon 5 blasting IHome. I mount the stairs and walk into her multi colored room, finding her dramatically lip singing while she applies eyeliner.
She is wearing a pair of ripped up black skinny jeans, one-size-too-large-sleeves-rolled-up purple and white flannel over a grey t-shirt, a pair of super old-doodled on Vans, lens-less Ray Bans and the green and white friendship bracelet I made her in seventh grade.
I’m wearing the blue and pink on she made me.
Her crazy long chocolate brown hair is slightly curly in a wavy way, the lids above her hazel eyes are purple and her lips are light pink against her ivory complexion. She spots me in the mirror and smiles supper dramatically, twirling around to hug me. She smells the same as always; a mix of perfume, Mango Tango laundry detergent and clean rain.
“I was at Disney Land with Robert Pattinson and he wanted to take me on Splash Mountain but I ate too many chilly cheese dogs and couldn’t move then my alarm clock went off and I though it was a souvenir cart backing up, then Alexandra came in and started shoving me into the bed and I thought Robert was physically abusing me in the waiting line.”
She laughs hysterically. She doesn’t have to ask to know I’m talking about the dream I had last night, this is how we have started off every conversation at the beginning of everyday for the last four years.
“I was in Germany and Josh and Zac Farro were asking me for some schnitzel and so I got them some and then when I came back Hayley Williams was like you whore! And I’m like what?! And she pointed at me so I looked down and I was in like underwear, stockings and high heels. So I’m like well at least I don’t have sponge bob teeth!”
“You did not insult Hayley Williams!” I shout laughing.
She nods and we walk down stairs and out to her drive way. Her car is deep red like the blood red nail polish I spilt in Mom’s room when I was small enough to hide under the cabinets. It smells almost exactly like Hollywood, but more perfume-y and less laundry detergent-y. CD’s are littered over the floor in the back and under the seats, paper work, sunglasses, BK wrappers, flip flops and a bottle of her contact solution cover the back seat.
The front seats are fairly clean besides for the middle console which is currently covered in gum wrappers and packages, notes, the key chain she has of all our friends old driver’s permits that we stole, some dollar bills, our voodoo Polly Pocket doll and a bottle of ibuprofen. There is an empty Starbucks cup and a bottle of pink juice in the two cup holders.
Hair ties are pulled over the gear stick and Marti Gras beads hang from the rear view mirror from when Hollywood and I drove down to Mississippi last year for an educational field trip.
DVDs are spread across the Dash board. Juno, Elvis and Annabel, The Ugly Truth, Harry Potter and The Chamber of Secrets, Halloween 2 and the third season of Lost.
Hollywood starts the car, puts it in gear and we turn out of her drive way and onto the main road wear she proceeds to go seven miles over the speed limit. Like always.
The clock says eight five, it takes ten minutes to get to school and school starts at eight fifteen plus a three minutes passing period which allows just enough time for traffic.
The fields and farms fly by as we slowly change from rural to suburban to city. She turns a couple times until we pull into the parking lot behind the school. Doors slam and I can hear someone’s car alarm going off.
Laughter, jokes, cheerio and vodka breath, paint chipped nails and undone homework, please-don’t-tell-anyone and I’m-wearing-sweats-and-a-hoodie-because-my-boyfriend-dumped-me-last-night-and-I-don’t-want-to-deal-with-life.
This is how everyday starts off.
But today I am not the girl in sweats. Today I am don’t have cheerio and vodka breath. My homework is done. I have no threatening secrets I’m willing to entrust in others. I have succeeded.
We walk across the black top and into school. Even though were permitted to be anywhere in school before the bell rings we always sit at the tables in the lunch room.
People talk just loud enough to hear their emotions but not loud enough to understand the conversation. We pass table after table of dreary eyed but awake for the most part teenagers. Finally I spot Autumn sitting on one of the table’s benches facing her boyfriend Tanner.
I can’t help it; clothing is always the first thing I notice about people, even before I look at their faces. It’s like a compulsion I can’t control, an itch I can’t scratch.
Autumn is wearing a pair of light blue shorts and a white top with pink and purple artwork. Across from her, Tanner is wearing brown corduroy skinny jeans and a light orange t-shirt. I can never find any imperfections in Autumn; she is tall and thin and tan with tummy length honey colored hair. Her green eyes are always sparkling and she only needs to wear mascara to look pretty.
Tanner on the other hand is wearing a pair of black sunglasses to hide his hangover, and he has teenage guy stubble. At least he smells good.
Next to autumn sits Alison. I’ve always thought that the Chinese were exceptionally pretty and Alison is no exception- she meets all the standards; heart shape face, bright open chocolate eyes the same color as her shinny hair, totally even and glimmering skin with a straight nose and perfectly shaped lips.
She is wearing a really long and slightly over sized wool sweater with red white and grey stripes and a matching hat of which loose curls are falling out of. Underneath the sweater she has on black leggings and in her hands she holds a tan container of coffee.
Levi is sitting across from her talking in a low murmur to Tanner, trying not to give him a head ache. Levi’s face is generic cute, nice angles and soft eyes with tan skin and brown hair.
We sit and everyone looks up to smile. I wedge in between Alison and Autumn, starting to rub my eyes from lack of sleep. Hollywood sits next to Levi and she makes a joke about his boner jeans, the excess fabric over his crotch is sticking up even though nothing is pushing up underneath. He asks her if she would like to ride it and she tells him to find someone he can actually handle.
We all laugh.
Then Alison starts laughing hysterically and pulls out her phone, I groan already having an idea of why she’s laughing.
“So there I am, laying in bed dreaming about wonderful little fluffy bunnies when my phone starts vibrating. Obviously I ignore it but in the morning guess what I found?”
It’s a rhetorical question.
She starts playing a message from her inbox, it’s me talking in a very drowsy voice.
“Alisssson you are soooo cool. I wish was you. Did you know?. . . (long pause) That my, that my floor is white? Cause I’m not sure you knew that, fuck your probably to cooool to care about the color of my floor, with your cooool hair and your cooool clothes. Damn Alison why are you even friends with me? You are my friend right? (I start to cry at this point) Alison! Where are you? Alison I’m confused! I can’t see. . . (another long pause) Yummy, yummy gummy bears in my tummy, tummy hairs. Yuuuum, yuuuum, yuuuum. Gum, gum, gummy bears. . . Yeah.” the phone call ends.
I bury my head in my hands trying to avoid the laughs and jokes my friends are throwing at me. I have a serious problem with sleep dialing and then leaving absolutely ridiculous messages in my friends in-boxes. It’s a personal problem I’m trying to deal with.
I think this is a well thought out story, and though it doesn't have any comments (I don't see why not.) I think it is one of the best I have crossed.
