California Girl: Chapters 2 & 3

Chapter Two: Langston

The first three periods went by fast. The California Girl alias that I was given from the beginning bored and upset me and everyone was fussing about me by the time I got to lunch.

I searched around and saw Creepy Boy from earlier eating with a group of totally diverse wallflowers. My crew, I thought.

Turning on my heel, I approached their table with the same tedious expression that had gotten me a seat at the popular table in California. In California, everyone has so much fun, they actually get bored of it. Therefore, since it was so boring in Seattle, I would totally fit in.

Jackson turned around and smiled at me. “Yo, it’s Cali Girl.”

I couldn’t take it anymore. I stomped over to him and slapped his arm.

“Ow!”

“Can I sit here?” I asked a girl with pink glasses and a tiny nose.

She laughed, giving me a high five. “You’re in.”

…

We ate, and I was introduced to the group.

Jackson introduced himself first. I took notice of his eyes; they were a really light sapphire in color, very much in contrast to his Bieber-like brown hair. His jawline was square, like most popular guys had; he looked tough. He was rather attractive, but his irritating attitude ruined the breath-taking persona that came with his charming eyes. 

“I’ve been in six rapping competitions and won five.”

We all clapped.

“ But I’m actually a writer,” he added.

We stopped clapping.

Then, the nerdy girl went.

“Uh, I’m Macy. I take honors math, honors science, AP psychology…”

That basically explained her, so she stopped. Her hair was red like the Californian sunset. I felt a bit of homesickness as she wrinkled her nose at Jaime.

Jaime was this gorgeous girl – at least, when she took her hoodie off. She had wavy blond hair, greenish-blue eyes, and a light sprinkling of freckles on her cheeks. “I like to play guitar, but only rock stuff. And, uh…I’m currently reading Little Women.”

“Oh my gosh!” I exclaimed. “That is my favorite book of all time.”

That was the first time I saw Jaime smile. She had a beautiful smile; it was sweet, bright, and it was the only thing that got Glen to look up from his textbook.

“How the heck did you get her to smile like that?” he asked, smirking.

“Because she reads classic literature and not textbooks on Mozart,” Jaime chided, and she elbowed him.

“Ouch,” he grunted, rubbing his arm. “And it’s Beethoven! Anyway, I’m Glen. I like music, but only classical.” He glared at Jaime. “Rock is repulsive.”

“Shut up!”

“Oh yeah, and Jaime’s totally adorable.”

I laughed, amused.

“Adorable?” she shrieked.

“Is that everyone?” I interrupted.

Macy giggled and then shook her head. “Langston is probably helping out with the Special Needs kids again.”

“Langston?”

“He most likely won’t introduce himself, so I will. He’s Langston. He plays drums in the school concerts, but only behind a curtain. Um…he’s intelligent, I guess. He’s in all honors classes with me. Like you are. You’re in all honors too, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Cool. Here he comes.” She smiled. “You’ll understand him as soon as you meet him.”

The cafeteria seemed to change to slow motion as I turned around and saw the famous Langston. He looked nothing like his name sounded – dirty blond hair, brown eyes that were lightly speckled with gold – and most surprisingly, he wore the same clothes as my guy friends from California: a red tee, khakis, and LeBron’s. I closed my gaping mouth and returned to my lunch with red cheeks.

Macy cocked her head to the right. “You seemed to like his appearance.”

Before I could answer, he sat down, in between me and Macy. “Who’s appearance?”

Sure, Jaime was kind of an introvert, but she was also a quick thinker, and quite a helpful friend.

“She had the biggest crush on this boy back in Cali. But she’s over him now.”

“You lived in Cali?” he laughed, not even a bit shaken from the crush comment. “That explains the shorts in fifty-degree weather.”

I shrugged, not even bothering to mention his similar clothing selection. “Some things never change.”

He was still looking at me when Macy said, “This is Selene.”

“Interesting name.”

“What about ‘Langston’?” I countered.

He nodded. “Yeah, you got me there. Having snooty rich parents means having a snooty rich baby name. But not necessarily snooty rich baby.”

Glen chuckled. “’Not necessarily’? Langston wouldn’t accept money if he was a homeless person living on top of a tarp on the side of the road.”

Langston shrugged. “It’s stupid. My parents treat money like their favorite child. When I graduate, I’m going to go to a good college using money that I’ve earned and not money that I’ve inherited.”

I mimed a gasp. “Going against your rich destiny? That’s huge.”

“Well, I’m not getting rid of my Beats. If your parents buy you beats, you simply can’t forsake that treasure.”

Chapter Three: Some Stupid Texts

Langston decided to prove to me how snooty his parents were, despite how many times I told him I believed him, and the fact that we literally had just met that day.

“I have to prove it to you.” he’d insisted.

And when I’d rolled my eyes and said fine, he’d grinned widely from cheek-to-cheek and revealed his adorable dimples.

After school, I texted my dad.

Dad, I made some new friends today.

And after he said Great! I proceeded to ask if I could be home a little later. I wouldn’t reveal to him that I was going to the house of a boy I just met; at least, not yet. Dad agreed hastily.

Langston walked to school, which was a great surprise, since he had such a wealthy inheritance from his family. You’d think he’d buy himself a limo with its own driver or something.

But he told me, “I’m cool with getting some exercise with my Beats on. I don’t need my parents’ cash.”

I respected his disdain towards money segregation so deeply, I listened to him the entire walk as he babbled about his ridiculous, annoying, well-off parents. Also, I was sort of infatuated with his cuteness. He had the smoothest voice; I could listen to him for hours.

His house was a huge colonial estate with a gate, a pool, and most surprisingly, a botanical garden. I’d understood Langston’s family was rich, but they lived like they owned the United States.

“I’m really sorry,” he said, gesturing towards the pool, “for all this. I hate it. If I could demolish the pool and build, like, a cheap, handmade swing set, I would.”

“But swing sets could require money, too. You’d better build a tire swing.” I giggled.

“Yes! That’s perfect. Selene, we need to go find an old tire, some scratchy, coarse rope, and a really bad-looking tree.” His lightly - tanned skin seemed to glow at the blossoming idea.

“If you need a bad-looking tree, stop by my new house. There’s this tree in our backyard that never grows more than three leaves a year.”

“Hey, if it’s as bald as my dad, we can give it a hair transplant, too.”

We both burst into laughter. There was a quiet moment - we just stood there, staring at each other – and then I got a text.

Langston seemed to blush, and I took out my phone, a retro-style Blackberry. It was one of my new friends, Jackson. The playwright. Creepy Boy.

Sup, Cali? BTW please don’t slap me for that. XD.

I rolled my eyes. “Why does Jackson keep calling me that stupid nickname? He knows I hate it.”

“He’s a jerk.”

“Yeah.” I texted him back.

Shut up. I’m busy.

An immediate response.

Doing what? Surfing?

I was beginning to get furious already.

Please shut up.

Langston’s eyes landed on the screen of my phone as I received another instant reply.

Tell me what you’re doing first.

I began to type, but then Langston put his hand on mine and took the phone. “Let me try.”

He typed. I’m kind of with Langston right now. I laughed.

You two only knew each other because you wanted to sit at my table!! Don’t tell me you’re already dating!!!!

Langston rolled his eyes. “Yep, I knew it. Jackson thinks you’re cute. He’s been teasing you because he likes you.”

“Ew.”

He laughed. “Tell him to back off, and that we aren’t dating.”

Chill, we’re not. He just wants to prove his parents' snootiness to me. 

When I received no further response, I put my phone in my pocket and we walked inside, laughing. “So, I heard you’re a baseball guy.”

“I don’t like it,” said Langston, “but my parents had me practice when I was little so I could make the team just like my dad did. I made it and I’m on it, but I hate it.”

“Well,” I said. “You’re a rich baseball player, so you must be pretty darn popular here.”

“Actually, no. All the guys like lacrosse.” He made a big eye roll. “I don’t like that, either.”

“What do you like, then?”

“Tennis.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Tennis?”

“Hey, I like to swing a stick every single time way more than I like to throw a ball at a stick ninety percent of the season.” He shrugged. “They make me pitcher every single time. I don’t think I’ve ever batted for the school team, ever.”

“That’s pretty cool,” I said. “I mean, that you like tennis. It’s different. I think different isn’t the best thing for me, but it suits you.” 

I didn’t mean for it to come out of my mouth aloud, but it was true – he just was so different than everything I was used to – like Seattle was. He didn’t like or do what his rich parents wanted, he hated baseball and lacrosse, he loved tennis. 

"Different is good,” I decided aloud.

Langston smiled sweetly instead of laughing at my random compliment. “You’re different, too.”

I smiled back.

He smirked. “What do you say we ditch my snobby parents and go play some tennis?”

“I say I will suck at it, but I will try for you.”

He grabbed two rackets from his garage and we walked to the neighborhood courts.