The Unattainables 3

Chapter 3: Timboland the Clown

I don't know how I made it through it. I managed to though, without shouting or breaking out of Caine's hold and swinging my fists.

It turns out Shorty was the guy from the party they called "T-Stone". I remember now that I thought it was to make up for his lack of intimidating height. I asked him why before we started playing and he said his first name is Taylor and his last is Stone. I was going to ask him how he knew Xavier too but Caine beat me to it.

All Taylor -like I was actually going to call the kid by the nickname. Mine are better anyways- said was that Xavier was his cousin, and that was that. Since I've not been denied keen senses or observational skills, I'm pretty sure Xavier wasn't expected here this summer. If not, Taylor really is Mr. Short-Term Memory and forgot to tell Caine, or that Caine and Taylor follow the whole 'Man Code' and don't talk about their feelings. Otherwise there was a random opportunity to come here and Xavier jumped at the sound of hot chicks in a hot place? … Ok, so there are many possibilities, but still. Plus, Taylor and Xavier aren't close but they still protect each other. Taylor let Xavier fight his own battle with me but he didn't show much enthusiasm about his arrival or showing him off. I think too much. Ah, how observant I am. Can you keep up?

Can you keep up as well as Xavier when we're facing off for the ball like we just were? Except that had now been interrupted since he'd randomly looked at his watch during a play where I was shooting on his net and he'd looked up just in time to get hit… duh duh dunnn… in the arm. Yeah, it's not as dramatic as it sounds, right? Agreed. Tell that to him though, since he's shooting me dirty looks.

I didn't get the goal though, and that is drama-worthy and tragic.

After holding his arm close to him, Xavier looked at Taylor and said, "I need to make a call."

"All right man." Shorty said in return. Xavier looked at Taylor like he was supposed to understand but it looked like Taylor was barely there.

This pretty much ended our game session. Even though I could still go for some more ball and ass kicking –wow, that sounds wrong-, we've been playing for two and a half hours.

What should I do now? Hmm… is anyone up for a game of Make Believe? Today we're playing 'Make believe that you actually like your stepmother'. It was exactly four; I have an hour to devise my maniacal plan.

"Yo, Crys, we're gonna head over to my house and get in some gaming action and stuff. Wanna come?"

Wow. No, that wasn't Caine; that was Taylor, obviously. He invited me over to his house. Like I was one of the guys. Wow. I just met this kid yesterday -God I feel so redundant-! He's letting some stranger into his home because of what, the fact that I'm Caine's friend? So what! And I have plans! I must play games with my stepmother's head. Isn't it more important than being accepted by Caine's friend?

"I've already got plans, you know?"

Seemingly indifferent, just like his cousin, Taylor nodded. "That's cool. See ya."

Shut up. I don't feel guilty. He doesn't care anyways. He just did it for Caine's sake, to be nice and all. It was dumb of him to ask.

"Are you sure, Crys?" Caine asked.

"Stop being so considerate," Got to make sure Xavier isn't around to use my next sentence against me in future. "I've got a stepmother to manipulate." I grinned.

-

"I'm surprised. I've listened to this song for two days and it's still my favourite."

"Really? Wow! How can you do that?"

"I don't know! Usually I can only listen to one for a day before I change my mind! Like last week, it was the one by Timboland. He didn't deserve to be my favourite though; he couldn't even buy that poor girl a flower!"

Wow. Shoot me now. Use the bullet on me 'cause there are not enough rounds to take out all of my rage on those two stupid girls who chose to sit five feet away from me instead of anywhere else on this long strip of sand. Why did I forget my iPod at the house? Urgh. Come on, the one called Timbaland Timboland, as if he was a clown! If anyone didn't deserve to be someone's favourite, it was she! How could the other girl look up to her? Timbaland's an amazing producer and artist!

Didn't take me for the type to like hip-hop? I'm not. I just respect him because he's very talented at all the things he does, and he's got a nice personality, from what I've seen. And I kind of have a thing for black men, heh.

Yup, it's true. Morgan Freeman has to be my favourite, just for his voice. I think I'll be devastated when he dies… whenever that will be. Denzel Washington is also a close second. –Sigh-. Plus, if you've ever seen a black baby you know how much cuter they are. Yeah, I'm racist against my own race.

Now back to reality. As I'm getting up to get my iPod to stop myself from verbally assaulting the two girls, someone says, "Hey, where are you going, girlie?"

"Whoa, hey. I was going to go get my iPod, and tune out them." I pointed to the two girls in the skimpy string and thong bikinis that look like, and probably are, only thirteen years old.

"Can I join you instead?" she asked, but Different Girl didn't really mean it as a question. She already had her towel down beside the expensive lawn chair I'd been forced to bring by Alannah so my back didn't go to shit from lying on the sand.

"Whatever." That's about as nice as I get, just ask Caine.

I said 'Screw you' in my head to Alannah, threw my blanket, and then slowly myself down, beside Ashlin on the warm sand. Then silence ensued.

I like this silence. It's not the type of awkward silence that some people assume every silence must be. It's a comfortable silence, which surprises me. Wouldn't you think the cheery girl that first greeted me would be so eager to talk to me now? Not to be conceited.

"Hey, Ashlin, what did you mean when you said that good female company is hard to find here?" That has been bothering me since she first said it.

Different Girl smiled at me like the Cheshire cat and vaguely said, "Oh, you know, -"

No, she wasn't that vague, she was just interrupted... "'- Do it like you do it to me, it's only love!'" The follower of the two girls not far enough way screeched horribly as she got to the end of the line.

I could have, but wouldn't have, mistaken it for a one-time occurrence had it not continued when Different Girl went to retry telling me her explanation and God frickin' forbid anything get in the way of me figuring out the answer to something that's been bothering me for days.

"'It's Britney, bitch! I see you and I just wanna dance with you.'" Yes, the leader of the two just impersonated the famous, young, and out-of-control mother. I don't know which is worse: the song, the impersonation, or Britney herself.

"Give me a minute." I said as I started to get up.

"No, it's all right."

"Are you kidding?" I don't care if she was kidding or not, I'm going to find out without being interrupted again.

"No. Sit. Tan. You need it if you want to compare." Compare?

"Psh, I'm pale but I've got other things, like brains, that they'd wish they had if they were capable of thought."

Different Girl was the one getting up, and smiling. I watched her and wondered what she would do. I can't imagine her bringing their dreams crashing down, though I could. So easily, it's so tempting.

I'd smash their dreams, unless they wanted to be the next Britney. In that case, it's actually possible. All they'd have to do is lip-sync with no enthusiasm at all and get rid of everyone that ever tried to help them. It's working for Brit.

"Hey."

Whoaaa. I was so not ready for that. Wait, wait.

I noticed the girls weren't even in sight anymore as I turned my head slowly to the right. I totally missed it. Aw, I was so looking forward to it too, and the sad thing is I'm not being sarcastic.

"What did I miss?"

"Nothing, I just talked them out of spending their day at the beach."

"Oh really? I didn't notice, you know? How?" I demanded.

That knowing smile of hers peaked out at me, as if mocking me. "Nicely. I told them I would feel horrible if I was the reason for skin cancer being apart of my future family's genetic history. Then I mentioned a lovely sale at one of the boutiques around here. Now do you get what I meant?"

If she were my mother she would have basically have said, 'It's easier to catch flies with vinegar than honey.'

-

If I didn't like myself so much, I'd blame this on myself. Yes, I somehow forgot my soccer ball back in Newport.

Haven't told you about snobby little Newport yet, have I? Well, my mom and father moved there once they were married and settled into a handsomely rich neighbourhood to father's liking. He must have saw it as a compromise; he moved to a new state for his wife and he made sure their home was good enough for himself. He's so rich that the mortgage was already paid off when the divorce happened –hallelujah-, so we still live there, not that that's a good thing.

Everything that happens there is just your average shit upgraded with money, which I don't really have any of. Father only pays child support because of Freddie, my younger brother and his heir to his fortunes, yippee.

Oh wait, isn't Alannah trying to groom me for this honourable –Insert snort- position? Confused? Yeah, well, my father wants Freddie to be his predecessor but I won't have any of it, you know? Freddie, whose real name is Frederick, is only a six-year-old little boy and there's know way I'm letting his little vulnerable form be taken advantage of by my pray-mantes of a father and his wife. I think I've got it bad enough, but it's like only normal person size compared to the sumo-wrestler pressure they'd put on him.

Anyways, back to reality. How ironic is it that my room is packed full of proper pencil pusher objects and I'm without the one recreational thing that could have saved me from it all? Since when were we all doomed to this? Actually, it's just me that's doomed.

If Alannah has her way with me -God that sounds so wrong-, like that bitch probably did with my soccer ball, the glasses she'd make me wear while we both look down on all my fellow teenagers, that are allowed to have fun, would be so high up on my nose that it would be comparable to the size of the stick shoved up her ass.

Hmmm… I guess I like Caine too much too. Why else could I not blame it on him for disappearing on me on Day Four already? It's not that I expected him to ditch all his friends for me, though I could go into Icy Bitch mode and get his friends to do just that easily enough.

So right now I'm ball-less. Yes, ha ha ha, but the sarcasm does drip puddles on the driveway that I don't fancy cleaning up. Anyways, we're all happy that I'm a girl and all, without any male genitalia, but back to the point.

I'm in my Spandex shorts, socks, pads, and cleats and, since I don't think anyone around here deserves an eye-full, my sports bra is covered by an old jersey; but I don't have the main equipment for the game. Plus, Caine fell off the Earth without yelling out for a saviour (i.e. me), so I've got to run through the options I have. Oh yeah, that's like, what, none?

But then there's hope! Oh yes, being the genius that I am, I've remembered that little exhibition game against Taylor and Xavier. I also remember how pointless it would be to get my hopes up because I don't know where they live. I can hope however that one of those boys, or just any person with an extra ball really, is at the park down the street!

Wee! Yay! Ok, ok, deep breathe. Calm myself. Done.

Let's go iPod! Wee!

_-_

See children? This is why hopes are not to be had and cynics are to be praised, not that I'm going to bow to them.

Right now I'm sitting on a curb listening to the Marianas Trench lead singer tell me that I'll be ok because of tinfoil and cigarettes; psh, yeah sure.

For once I actually want to be in the presence of people and there are none around. Oh yes, let's all spite Crystal for being a bitch. Fuck them. I just need Primetime.

I want to take you through a wasteland I like to call my home. Welcome to Paradise. Ok, those aren't Marianas Trench lyrics; that is my ring-tone. It's kind of the opposite of the overly priced palace I'm staying in now. It suits since my teenage life isn't filled with drama, but irony instead.

"Who is it?" I asked, hiding my gratefulness.

"Hey, come over here."

"Ooh, Caine is making demands now. I think the popularity went to your head, buddy."

"Ha, ha. Now get over here. Bye."

He hung up on me. Wow. That's a blow to my ego.