NaNoWriMo - Day 4

Zach was one of those guys who just didn't care, but in a good way.  He lived life without thinking about all the terrible things that could happen.  Now he wasn't foolish about it.  He didn't run across the street without looking both ways or jump out of an airplane without checking his parachute first.  But he did often just randomly decide to do something and convince me to come along even if I didn't think beforehand that I wanted to.  It wasn't always big things either.  It was more like the one Saturday afternoon when we were both in the room studying for our respective tests that we had coming up on Monday when Zach suddenly slammed his book shut, making my jump a little in my chair, and said, "Dude!  Let's go to the mall."

I couldn't help but laugh.  "What are we, back in high school?" I asked.  Truth be told, I almost never went to the mall in high school, since the nearest real mall was over an hour away from my house, but I was under the impression that going to the mall was a typical high schooler's key endevour in life.

"Naw, man," he responded.  "I'm just tired of studying and it isn't nice enough outside to throw the frisbee around.  Too windy.  Come on, let's go to the mall.  I need a new shirt anyway."

I sighed.  "Okay, fine, let's go to the mall."  I grabbed my car keys and headed out the door.

I did sometimes wondered if Zach invited me along on his little trips because we were friends or simply because I had a car and he didn't.  Either way, as much as I resisted, which usually wasn't very much anyway, I did enjoy hanging out with him.  I never realized how much I missed out on with not having a brother to talk to about things and do guy stuff with until I met Zach.  Now granted, going to the mall isn't much of a "guy thing", but there's a reason I chose to share this particular outing.

So we get to the mall and Zach just starts wandering off and of course I follow.  He glances back at me.  "Where should I get my shirt?" he asks.  "The Gap?  Macy's?  Abercrombie?"

I laugh.  "I don't care, Zach, get it wherever you want."

"Let's find the store with the cutest girl working there and buy it there."

"What if we disagree about which girl is the cutest?"

He shrugs.  "Well, it is my shirt," he says.  "If you want to buy a shirt, too, then you pick the girl you think is cutest."  He pauses and then continues, "That's not to say I won't listen to your arguments regarding said cuteness.  I try to keep an open mind."

I just sigh and roll my eyes.  "Whatever, man," I say.  "Let's just get your shirt so I can get back to studying.  This test is going to destroy me if I'm not ready for it."

"Whatever, man, you'll do fine, you always do."

I smile.  This isn't very manly to admit, but Zach's compliments never failed to make me feel better about myself.  My dad never complimented me and I couldn't take my mom's compliments seriously, but Zach always seemed so genuine.  And he said what he said without even thinking.  It was sometimes hard to believe my initial impression of him had been that I was so much superior to him.  I think Zach was really a better man than I.

But anyway, we go wandering through some stores, poking around pretending to look at clothes when we're actually looking at the female employees and comparing notes on our opinions of their relative cuteness.  We are forced to get the clarification that the statement made previously was with regards to the "cutest" girl and not the "hottest" girl as there would certainly be a difference.  With this in mind, we continue on with our window shopping, roaming from store to store and isle to isle, until suddenly Zach grabs my shoulder pulls me behind a rack of coats and pointing towards the jewelry counter says, "Dude, I know that girl."

"Okay..."

"I mean, I know I've seen her before, but I can't put my finger on where.  Does she look familiar to you?"

I peak out in the direction he's pointing.  "The girl with the curly black hair?" I ask.

He nods.  "Yeah, her."

I shrug.  "Doesn't look familiar to me."

"I know I've seen her before."

"Why not just go ask her?"  I suggest.

"I... I don't know..." he mutters.

This surprises me.  Zach never second guesses himself or really gives much thought to anything.  I would have fully expected him to just walk right up to this girl and say, "Don't I know you?" or some other such line that has real potential to sound like a pick-up line.  I realized it was very unusual for us to even be having this conversation.  So I asked, "Why are we even having this conversation?  What's the matter with you?"

"Shhh!" he interjected, "I think she looked over this way."

"Why do you even care?" I asked.

"I don't..."

I sigh and stand up from our hunched position.  "This is silly," I say, "I'm going over there to talk to her."

"No, no, no..." Zach stammers, reaching for my shoulder again, but I'm already on my way and with a heavy sigh he follow behind me.  Zach's reaction and trepidation are so strange to me, now I really want to know who this girl is and what's going on here.

"Hello," I say as I approach the counter.  "My friend here thinks he knows you."

Zach peaks out from behind me and waves his hand timidly.  This is so unlike him, I don't really understand what's going on.

The girl shrugs.  "I don't know him," she says, "but it's possible he's seen me before."

Zach smiles and stands up straight, taking a step to stand beside me.  "And where might that be?" he asks, his confidence suddenly returned.

She gives a little smirk.  "Well, I was on the news last night for winning a pageant."

"And what was the pageant?" Zach prompts.

"You obviously already know," she says.

"Yeah, but I want my friend to hear you say it."

She sighs and rolls her eyes.  "Cutest Young Woman," she says.

Zach turns to me and points both fingers at me.  "Bam!" he says, "Can't beat that!  I'm buying my shirt right here, right now!"  And he saunters off towards the men's casual wear section.

I look back at the girl.  I'm stunned; she looks pretty stunned, too.  I should have known Zach was messing with me.  He lives for that kind of ridiculous nonsense.  "I'm so sorry," I say.  "For my friend.  He's an embarrassment sometimes."

To my surprise, she smiles at me.  She has dimples and green eyes.  I guess she is pretty cute.  "It's okay," she says.  "I appreciate being recognized for my work."

I'm not entirely sure what she means by that, so I just give out an awkward little half chuckle and say, "Well, have a nice day," and turn to walk away.

I've gone about two steps when she calls out after me, "My name's Lizzy."

I turn back.  "Brady," I respond.

She nods.  "Well, see you around, Brady."  She looks back down to the jewelry counter and starts writing on a little slip of paper.  I take that as my cue to walk away, but I only manage to turn and go one more step until she calls out again, "Here's my number."

I think this is extremely bizarre that a girl I randomly met working in a clothing store would give a phone number to the friend of a guy who totally just made a fool of himself, but for some stupid reason, I turn back, walk forward and take it from her hand anyway.  I accidentally glance into her eyes and they seem to sparkle.  "You can give it to your friend," she says in a hushed tone, "or call me yourself if you prefer.  It's totally up to you."

"Thanks, I guess," I manage to get out.  I take the paper from her and walk away at a brisk clip, fearing she might call me back if I don't get out of there fast.  I manage to find Brady perusing through the polos.

"What do you think?" he says holding up two shirts.  "Red or black?"

"I think that girl is crazy," I say.  "She just gave me her phone number."  I hold out the sheet of paper.

Zach laughs.  "How does that make her crazy?"

"What kind of girl hands out her phone number to some random guy, especially when his friend just made a fool of himself?"

Zach shakes his head.  "Dude, I didn't make a fool of myself," he says.  "She liked it.  That's why she gave you the phone number."  He smirks a little.  "Did she say it was for your or for me?"

"She didn't even seem to care!" I exclaim throwing my hands up in the air.

Zach snorts a little.  "Well are you going to call her?" he asks.

"Of course not!"

"Well then do you mind if I do?" he asks.

"Be my guest," I respond, shaking the paper in his direction.

He glances at the red shirt and the black shirt, then puts the black shirt back on the rack and takes the paper with the hand that had been holding the black shirt.  He shakes the paper in my direction.  "A new shirt and a new phone number," he announces.  "What could be better than that?"

I sigh.  "Going back to the dorms and making sure I don't fail my test on Monday?" I suggest.

He laughs.  "Yeah, okay, man.  Let's get out of here.  I need to get my studying in before I call this chick tonight."  He glances down at the paper.  "Lizzy Rodgers, apparently."

I hadn't even looked at the paper before.  "Geez, she even gave her last name?"

Zach shrugs.  "Maybe so we can look her up on Facebook," he suggests.

"You go right ahead," I say.  "She makes me uncomfortable."

Zach pats me on the back.  "Of course she does, buddy," he says.  "She's the cutest worker in this mall."

-----

To say that telling my father good-bye as I headed off to college was hard would be an understatement.  Even though I would only be a couple of hours away by car, I felt like I was losing all the support and guidance he had offered me over the years.  How could I not cry?

He held me and as I pulled back from his embrace, he wiped one of my tears away and said, "You even look like her when you're sad."

It was true, it seemed I was growing to look more and more like my mother every day.

"I'll miss you," I said.

"I'll miss you, too, sweetheart," he replied.  He dropped his hands from my shoulder and said, "But you're ready for this.  I know you are.  You haven't needed me since you were a baby.  You might not realize yet how independent you are, but I know you'll do great."

I smiled and nodded.  "I know, dad," I said.  "I know I'll be okay."

"More than okay!" he interjected.

I smiled a little more.  "More than okay, but that doesn't make saying good-bye any harder."

"What about your friends?" he asked.  "Maggie's moving clear across the country."

I sighed.  "Don't remind me.  I'm going to miss her like crazy, too, but at least Bridget is going to the same school I am."

My father shifted his weight uneasily.  "Yeah, I suppose so," he said.  He wasn't particularly fond of Bridget.  She was too much of a party girl for his liking.  She could be a little rude at times, too.  She wouldn't say anything, but she'd crinkle up her nose like something smelled rancid and you'd just feel the disdain seeping out from her.

"I'm sure I'll make new friends, too," I pointed out quickly.

He smiled and reached out again to squeeze my shoulder.  "I know you will sweetie," he said.  "You'll be great."

-----

Christina is totally my best friend.  I know her dad doesn't think all that highly of me, but who needs him?  Chris and I are going to have an awesome time in college.  I just need to get her to loosen up and have a fun time.  I know she won't go too crazy.  I wouldn't want her to.  I know it's not her thing.  But she just needs to have a little more fun sometimes, you know?  And wear some brighter colors, girl!  No need to look so drab all the time!  It's like she's still mourning the mother she never knew.  I mean, get over it, girl!

Okay, I'm sorry, I know that sounded really rude.  Sometimes I just get carried away.  Chris is a great girl.  I wish I had her ambition and dedication.  She got that track scholarship and an academic scholarship to go to this school.  I got diddly squat because I'm a slacker.  I know I am.  My family has the money to afford this school and I scored just high enough on my ACT to get accepted.  I have no illusions of grandeur.  And I don't want to ruin Chris, despite what her father might think.  I just want her to loosen up a little.  If she doesn't have some more fun, real fun, not like this deep and meaningful sense of peace stuff she's always searching for, she's going to burn herself out.  I'm really just trying to help.

-----

Once all the unloading, unpacking, and setting up of the dorm room was ready, it dawned on me just how nervous I was being away at college.  It was all so new and exciting and terrifying.  I slid open our glass patio door and stepped out onto the balcony to look over the student recreation area.  Kids were walking around, playing frisbee, munching on french fries while they sat on the grass.  One of the perks of rooming with a girl whose parents had sway at the college was getting a room with such a nice view.  Bridget stepped up next to me in her favorite hoop earrings and high heels and slapped me on the back.  "So, kid," she said amidst the smacking of her gum, "whaddaya think?"

I smiled.  "I think it's going to be great," I said softly.

"You know it girl!  Now come on, let's go downstairs and take a look around."

I assented and followed Bridget down the stairs.  She was yakking away about all the great parties she had already heard about, the freshman welcome stuff, and which sororities she was most likely to pledge to.  She didn't bother asking me what I thought.  She knew better than to think I would pledge anywhere, or even know what the difference was between the sisterhoods, or whatever they called them.  As we were walking along, her talking and me listening, this guy with shoulder length hair, shorts and a T-shirt, came rushing towards us.  At first I thought he wanted to talk to us for some reason, but then he glanced behind him just in time to run right into Bridget.  "Geez!"  she exclaimed.

"Sorry, dude," he said looking up at her, "I mean, lady, I mean..." he glanced behind him again.  "Gotta go."  And he rushed off.

Bridget wrinkled up her nose the way she often did when she was feeling annoyed or disapproving.  "What a jerk," she said.  Just as we were shaking off our strange encounter and started walking again, a pretty girl with curly black hair wearing a long red skirt came running up to us.

Panting, she stopped in front of us, rested her hands on her knees and said, "Have you seen a hippie come this way."

I choked trying to keep from laughing and started coughing instead.  Bridget just wrinkled up her nose even more.  She stared at the girl and the girl looked back up at us pleadingly.  Bridget slowly pointed behind us the direction the guy with the shoulder length hair had run.

"Thanks," the black haired girl said, standing up and squeezing Bridget's arm.  "You're the best."  Then she looked right at me, seemed to give a little scowl, and ran off.

Once she was gone, I really did burst out laughing.  "What the crap is going on here?!" I asked Bridget.

She just shook her head.  "I have no idea," she replied, "Let's just go get some froyo or something and see if there are any normal people around here."

-----

I was sitting in the dorm room still studying like mad for my exam on Monday when Zach burst in the room, having returned from the library where I had politely sent him when he couldn't stop talking to me about what he was going to say when he called this girl later than night, and announced, "It's time, dude; I'm gonna do it!"

I had secretly been looking forward to this as an excuse to take a break from the studying that might at this point have been frying my brain more than it was actually helping me prepare, so I slammed down my pencil, spun around in my chair, and exclaimed, "Yeah, let's do it!"

He took a step back from me and held his hands up in surrender, cell phone already ready to go in his left.  "Hey man, no need to get sarcastic," he said.

I laughed as I stood up and walked over to close the door behind him.  "I'm not, man," I assured him.  "I'm actually pretty curious to see how this turns out."  I walked back over to my desk and sat down facing him.  "But remember, I did warn you; I'm pretty sure this chick is crazy."

"Crazy lucky to land a dude like me, maybe," Zach announced.  He held his hand up for a high five.  "Hey, don't leave me hangin'!"

I rolled my eyes.  "Sure, why not," I said as I stood up and slapped his hand.  Collapsing back into my chair, I asked, "So what are you going to say to her?"

Zach shrugged.  "Oh, you know, just that she's cute and we should go out on a date."

I laughed.  "That's it?  No cheesy lines?  And no small talk?  After all those plans and ideas you were torturing me with before?  You think simple is best?"

He shrugged.  "Only one way to find out," he said.  And then he grinned mischieviously and added, "Besides, if my first attempt doesn't work, I can pretend it was you and try again as myself.  After all, she did say either of us could call her."

"Yeah, because she's crazy."

"Whatever, dude, I'm calling her right now."

"Go for it."

He gave me his "you know I will" look and then did it.  He pulled the paper out from his pocket, dialed the number, and stood there in the middle of our dorm room while it rang.  I only heard his end of the conversation, but it went something like this:  "Lizzy? ...  Yeah this is the dude from the store yesterday. ... Does it matter? ... So, I think you're cute and we should go out. ... Okay, yes, you're the cutest and we should really go out. ... Thursday?  You don't want to go out on a Friday or Saturday? ... No, no, Thursday is fine. ... Okay, I'll see you there at 7.  Bye bye."  He hung up, tossed the phone behind him onto his bed, and shook his head.  "You were right, dude," he said, looking at me, "she's totally crazy."

I wasn't entirely sure if he was being serious or sarcastic, so I just said, "So you're really going out with her?"

He laughed.  "Of course I am!" he said.  "If she turns out to be the murderous kind of crazy, I've taken self defense."  He got into some sort of martial arts stance and waved his hands in front of me as he made swoshing sounds to indicate how fast he was moving.  "So really, what's the worst that could happen?"