Thursday, July 14, 2011

walking.

There was a time when teenagers roamed the Earth, desperately seeking adventure or perhaps just one another. Their burdened feet tapped the pavement, in a rush to get anywhere and everywhere.

Sharon and Desi are looking for love, lust or something like it. Desi runs her long pink and white acrylics along the metal fences nearby, creating an annoying tapping sound.

“It’s too hot for all that Dee.” Sharon hissed at her best friend.

She rolled her eyes, “You’re just upset we haven’t seen any cuties.”

It was true. For eleven blocks, they’d had one false oasis on their hunt for a pubescent summer fling. On the fourth block, they’d spotted fitted hats peering from a house step. The two quickened their steps, gazelles on the hunt, pulled their booty shorts down all respectable-like and patted their fraying tresses simultaneously. Upon reaching the yard, they were confronted by three old-timers clearly wearing their grandson’s “cool gear.”

Desi and Sharon cloaked their embarrassment in an even faster walk. Yet even this didn’t stop the wrinkled perverts from staring and yelling after them.

“I see you fine thang!”

“Don’t run from me!”

“We don’t bite!”

Like typical sixteen year old girls, Sharon and Desi were inseparable BFF’s. Unless of course there was a boy involved. Which there never was. Until now.

Desi spotted him first. He leaned against the counter, as she peered through the oatmeal crèmes and Twinkies, clinging the neck of his shirt and separating the sweaty material from his skin. He smiled.

She suddenly felt a palm wringing the back of her arm, a whisper slung in her air, “Dee you seeeeee him!?”

No response. Desi had connected eyes with the young cub, now pawing change to the local mailman effortlessly.

“Desi!!!”

The utterance had broken her trance, “What Sharon?”

“I saw him first.”

This made her spin around quickly on her heels, her hands clutching a now smushed pastry, “You’ve got to be kidding me! You were all the way in the back of the store by the drinks. No way.”

Sharon folded her arms in protest, “Listen here light skin, you always get what you want. It’s my turn.”

“I can’t help my complexion Desi, besides I don’t want none of those stupid boys at school who put their hands all in my hair when they pass by.”

Her was Puerto rican and paint, as Sharon liked to call her. She was a golden brown with long and flowing naturally blonde hair that mimicked gold paint in the right sunlight. Sharon considered herself an ordinary brown with kinky natural twists sprouting from atop her perfect pear shaped head.

“Still though, they want you.” Sharon pouted.

Desi rolled her eyes and ignored the wining of her best friend. She strutted straight to the counter and handed her now hazardous and melted snack to the dream lad behind the bulletproof shelves. He never spoke, just pointed to the price and smiled that smile of his.

$0.75

She pulled the change from her pocket and placed the three quarters individually in the center of his palm all seductive-like. From the corner of her eye, she saw Sharon storm out of the store. The boy put the change in the register and disappeared to a nook behind the tower of goodies, with a TV and a stack of magazines.

Sharon and Desi weren’t speaking. They’d only seen each other twice since they’d passed each other the following Sunday after mass with the utterance of a mumbled and equal “bitch.” Desi saw Sharon with Quana, a nerdy and annoying girl they’d sworn off since the second grade, licking red Marino’s ices from their small wooden spatulas. Sharon witnessed Desi dancing through the sprinklers with her cousins one Saturday morning.

Desi put on five pounds that summer, devouring Twinkies and neglecting her walks now that she had to do them alone. She stood beside the snack rack and peered at the beautiful male who idly stared at a nearby wall. She was on the way to the counter to purchase her seventeenth crème filled cake when Sharon walked in.

Shit.

Sharon decided she would make her move today. She spoke out loud for no one in particular to hear, “I can’t wait to take these twists out and get my curly fro on. I’m gonna look so good for whomever wants to take me out this weekend.”

The boy’s eyes didn’t budge from his beloved wall as Desi bum rushed the counter with ample Twinkies. She figured ten would give her at least thirty seconds more eye contact.
Sharon, almost a foot taller than her, loomed over the occasion.

“I’ll take some Nowandlaters, the blue pack.” She crooned.

As the quiet boy stretched his arm above them to retrieve the snack, the two girls glared at one another relentlessly. In that sparse moment Sharon and Desi had enough time to elbow one another, switch positions, and step on one another’s feet.

The Nowandlater pack sat on the counter between them as the boy put his palm forward requesting the change. Suddenly he drew his hand back, placed it on his hip, spun his neck towards the both of them and spoke, “Girl! Where do you get your hair done? It is oh so spectacular! My homeboy wanted to…”

Desi and Sharon grasped hands, eyes flung open in awe and made for the door. They finally found themselves out of breath, at the gate of the neighborhood park and fighting laughter that seemed to burst from everywhere but their throats.

Sharon suddenly paused, gazed towards the pathway scattered with shade and smiled, “Let’s go walking.”

1 comment:

Ronald said...

LOL classic, classic, classic