The ball would soon rise. Lavender light began to color the room. Lolly lay in her bed staring at nothing. Grandma Toady was at Aunt Jessie's. Lolly could have gone, but she just hadn't wanted to get up THAT early. It was so quiet. Only she and Fluff were in the trailer. He had not slept with her last night, and he was not in her room. Most likely he was hiding in the pantry, sulking. He was not quick to forgive. The sound of her fuzzy duck clock echoed through the empty house. Lolly punched the top of it and it stopped meowing.
The trailer was void of the aroma of a hot breakfast cooking. She would have cold cereal or toast this morning. Lolly threw her thin legs over the side of her bed and slid her feet into her bunny slippers. The sound of her slippers usually brought Fluff out of hiding, but not this morning. She slapped her slippers louder than usual hoping to tempt Fluff into attacking them. It didn't work. She went to the cabinet and pulled out a bowl and got a box of Raisin Bran out of the pantry. Grandma Toady called Raisin Bran, "The Breakfast of Clean Plumbing!" It seemed the older a body got the more obsessed it became with interior plumbing.
From the fridge, she grabbed the milk. When she opened it, it smelled a bit off, so she ate her cereal dry. As she shoveled the dry cereal into her mouth she thought about the eggs in a hole that everyone at Aunt Jessie's was getting to eat. Oh, well. It was kinda nice to have the house all to herself. In fact it was very rare. Some one was always there. Grandma Toady had not cut any of her apron strings. She still had her nose deep in her kids and her grandkids business.
Outside the kitchen window, the sky had turned to pale blue. She glanced at the walk clock and sighed. This morning she had to face the World without any of her trusted rituals. She took her bowl to the sink, rinsed it off and went to her room.
Now, to select the Armor of the Day. She opened her closet and slid her fingers across everything she owned. Nothing spoke to her. Armor of the Day decisions were hard for her and that was why she let Mitzi pick out her clothes. Maybe there would be something in what Grandma Toady called the rummage room. She padded across the hall and opened the door. It was the only room in the entire trailer that contained clutter. There were bits of quilting fabric on a table and bags of old clothes marked for Goodwill. On the walls were maps of Vietnam with red dots marking important battles. Grandma Toady had two sons in the Vietnam War, Pa came back, but Uncle Chet did not. After four years he was still listed as Missing in Action. Grandma Toady believed he was dead. They all did.
The bed against the window was made. On the nightstand beside it was a stack of J.R. R. Tolkien books. The only one that Lolly had finished was The Hobbit. There was just something about Bilbo that appealed to her. Pa slept in this bed when he wasn't off shore. She went to the closet and slid it open. Inside was Pa's sparse wardrobe, shorts, faded jeans and some button up shirts. She chose the shirt with sky blue stripes. It was her favorite. The shirt was too big for her, but she liked too big. Anything tight made her feel like she was suffocating. She slid the shirt off its hanger and slipped it on. It smelled faintly of Old Spice.
Fluff entered the room and sniffed the air. He glanced in Lolly's direction, but he pretended he not to see her. She said, “Vindidctive old cat!" He swished his tail and walked out.
Back in her room, Lolly thrust her hand with eyes closed into her closet and grabbed something. It was the sea green dress. She let go of it like it was a hot potato. She tried again and came up with a baggy pair of gray gauchos. They would do. For her feet, she chose chucks. There was no way she was going to subject her feet to another day in clogs. In the mirror she studied herself. She looked a little frumpy. Maybe jeans would be better. The bus was going to be there any minute. Why did she suck so hard at making decisions? Lolly yanked off the gauchos and thrust her legs into her jeans. A glance in the mirror told her this was a much better choice. She grabbed her backpack and headed out the door.
At the bus stop it felt like yesterday had never happened. No one even said, hi. When she got on the bus, Mrs. Anderson was the only one who asked about Max. Feeling alone and rejected, Lolly turned her head and stared out the window. She didn’t see a single thing. When the bus stopped for Trevor Long, Lolly took in a deep breath. It would be okay if he didn’t speak to her. It would be okay. Fear drove her eyes to study the toes of her chucks. When Trevor passed he said, “Hey Lolly.”
She looked up at him and said, “Hey.” He smiled at her and she smiled back. God, she hoped it was not an obvious smile that shouted YOU ARE SO BEAUTIGUL TO ME!* He made his way down the aisle to his seat. She watched him until she realized Max’s tall blonde friend was watching her. He raised his eyebrows. She shot her gaze back to the window. Hot embarrassment washed through her. She could feel the heat coming out of the top of her head.
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
*
After school Lolly had to meet Munch in the art room for an Art Club meeting. Lolly had tried to get out of it, but Munch said she had to come because she was, "The finest Model of The House of Munch." Really Aunt Jessie was. When she stepped insde the art room it smelled like sweaty arm pits, the kind of pits only sixth graders had. She wrinkled her nose and sat down at the table beside Munch. This was her first time in the art room. Grandma Toady would have a conniption if she saw this place. There was clutter from floor to ceiling.
The kids in Art Club, all five of them were misfits and upper classmen. Munch was the youngest member.
Madamoiselle Petite called the meeting to order. She taught French and Art at Lydndon Baines Johnson High. She frowned and said, "I called this meeting to discuss our up coming show in November, but thanks to the love of football, our show has been rescheduled. Our Art/Fashion Show has been moved to the first week in December. It seems there is real threat that the football team could make it to the playoffs and if they do, all other activities will be cancelled or poorly attended." A collective groan rose from the members."I know, I know," Mademoiselle said. 'We get no respect. It is a sad but tragic truth, so get used to it and don't ever let it stop you from creating. Remember the world depends on art. Every car, dress, sneaker, utensil on the market was designed by an artist.
Lolly hoped the football team went all the way to State! Texas State Playoffs weren't until the third week in December. It would be months before she would have to walk down the runway. A look around the room told her the Art Club did not feel the same as she did. They looked hurt and angry. She knew she was being selfish, but she couldn't help it. She so did not want to be a model, EVER!
Mademoiselle Petite continued, "I know you are all disappointed , I am too, but we must remember that art has existed for millienia, while football didn't come into existence until 1869. We can only hope the sport will have a short shelf life in the annuls of history. This meeting is adjourned. If you have any questions, I will do my best to answer them."
Lolly leaned over and whispered to Munch, "If I hurry I may be able to catch my bus. If its left already I will meet you by the oak tree, okay?"
With obvious disappointment in his voice he said, "Okay."
Though it was against the rules to run through the halls, Lolly made a dash for it. She got outside just in time to see her bus pull out. Shoot! Max’s tall blonde friend stuck his head out the bus window and shouted, “Hey Lolly! Tell Max I said, Hi!”
“I will,”she called back. At some point in time she had known this kid’s name, but she could not remember it now.
As she headed for the oak tree, the crossing guard waved at her. Mrs. McFarland had been the school crossing guard since Pa was in third grade. Her job was dangerous job. Mrs. McFarland risked her life every time she stepped into the street teeming with teenage drivers, impatient parents honking horns and kids who darted into traffic.
There was a cement bench beneath the oak tree. She sat down and waited. When Munch came out of the school he waved to her. It looked like his mood had improved. When he reached her, he held out his sketch book and said, “Look at this. This is what I am designing for you to wear. Mademoiselle thought it was great!"
Lolly took the sketch book. On it was a faceless thin body wearing a modified hanbok. A hanbok was a traditional South Korean dress for women. Munch had shaded the dress in the pale colors of dawn. They were her favorite colors. “Aw Munch this is beautiful.”
“Ain’t it though.” Munch grinned and added, “You will look beautiful in it.”
“If I had hair, maybe.”
Munch frowned at her, “That again. Don’t you know you are more than your hair?”
“I don’t have any hair.”
“I know. I just wish you could see you the way I see you." He waited for her to ask, how do you see me, but she didn't, so he continued, "To me you are exotic like—“
Lolly cut him off, “Like a hairless rat?”
Munch rolled his eyes and asked, “Are you menstruating?”
“Oh my God, Munch!”
“Well you do tend to get pissy when Mother Nature lets loose on you.”
“Seriously, shut up.”
“Sure.” He took his sketch book from her and sat down beside her. "I called my mom. She will be here soon.”
Lolly didn’t respond. Across the parking lot she saw the boy’s cross country team loping down the sidewalk. Trevor was among them. He was too far away for her to see him clearly, but she could see him and that was all that mattered right now. Trevor’s stride was relaxed and his arms were loose. His head turned in her general direction. Could he see her? Probably not, since she was in the shade. Still he might see her and he might wave. He didn’t. She watched him until the team disappeared behind the gym.
Munch exclaimed, “Oh my God, Lolly has a crush and she got it bad. So which sweaty boy were you staring at?”
“I was not staring at anyone.”
“Oh yes you was. Tell me who, I am dying to know.”
“It’s nobody.”
“Liar.”
Mrs. Dutchendorph’s red Volkswagen came speeding through the parking lot. There was a loud whoop and the traffic cop’s lights started to swirl. Munch groaned, “Oh great, another ticket. This is going to take a while. I seriously don’t know how my mother affords her car insurance.”
*from the song, You are So Beautiful, sung by Joe Cocker