Hi guys! I finished part 2 of my story.If you haven't read oart one, here it is
A girl my age with blonde hair a few inches past her shoulder slightly curling because of the humidity stepped out. Wearing torn jeans, a baggy tank top with the word, “Beach” on it, and light blue flip-flops, she looked like a stereotypical Californian surfer chick.
“Hi Kelsey!” I said.
“Zoe!” Kelsey replied. She reached out and hugged me, but recoiled. Kelsey shook off her hands and sweat dripped from them. “Ew. You’re all sweaty.”
Kelsey Bennet had been my best friend since first grade. Once we hit second grade, we were inseparable. We were in the same classes, hung out during recess, and sat next to each other. But we knew that would change next year when we went to middle school – we couldn’t be in all the same classes.
Personality-wise, Kelsey and I were total opposites. She was a bright sunshine rainbow, a happy-go-lucky girl who was easy to imagine frolicking through a field of smiling daisies, she that loud voice you hear in a crowded room over dozens of people, but don’t know who the heck it is. But, don’t get me wrong – she wasn’t Nice Nelly. When Kelsey was mad, you’d better run to Massachusetts. Or Saturn. I mean, she was sweet most of the time, but if something pulled her switch, you’d was hear her yelling from Spain.
On the other hand, I was more of the “silent and mysterious kind”, direct quote from Kelsey. I even looked the part – with my dark brown hair and eyes and tan skin, I seemed like a person who had association with um... the dark side? I don’t know. My little brother liked Star Wars.
“So what are you here for?” Kelsey wondered.
“My mom kicked me out of the house,” I began, “and I’m bored. And I need shade.” I started to groan. “Shade.... I need shade...”
Kelsey giggled. “Well, shade you’ve got. Go over to the hammock and I’ll get us some Sprite and Popsicles.”
This was why I liked going over Kelsey’s house way better than inviting her over mine. Mrs. Bennet, who had asked me to call her Amy, stocked the Bennet family’s fridge with sodas and Gatorades, the freezer with Popsicles and ice cream, and the pantry with Doritos and Oreos. The odd thing was, Kelsey was actually very skinny, despite the fact that she’d stuff her paper lunch bag with Skittles and Cheetos. On the other hand, my mom would buy sugar-free Popsicles when she bought them at all, veggie sticks, and fruit. If she ever made cupcakes or cookies, she’d sneak in spinach or a handful of chopped up broccoli. When she forced me to bring them to school, I would just hand it to someone and prank them when they bit into it and ended up with some sort of leafy vegetable stuck between their teeth.
Amy seemed like the ideal mom. She baked brownies occasionally, and always invited me over when she made anything. Waffles, for example. I would come over and take a waffle she had made out of the freezer, stick it in the toaster, and gobble it up. Although Amy mainly bought frozen food like chicken nuggets, she said, “sweets are meant to be baked in an oven, not a microwave.” So Amy would never buy Eggo or pre-made cakes from anywhere other than a bakery.
I plopped down on Kelsey’s rope hammock and rocked back and forth under the shade of my favorite red maple tree. Kelsey’s backyard was my favorite. She had a tree house suspended far off the ground, a tire swing, a pond, and a huge rock she and I rock climbed on. “It gets boring after a while,” Kelsey had admitted when I had told her how cool her yard was when I was 6. Now that I think about it, it did get boring after a while. But still, it was better than my yard, an acre of nothing but grass and a blackberry bush. And even then, the blackberries only came for a small time a year. Plus, there were no massive trees in my backyard producing shade – only a few wimpy ones.
Just then, Kelsey walked out with a 4-pack of Sprite and a box of orange Popsicles. “Better eat ‘em quick,” she informed me. “They’ll melt in this heat.” Her fair skin was turning a deep shade of flame and it was all sticky like mine. Twins, I thought. Kelsey looked so tired, and her hair was probably like wearing a hat or a hood. Like she was reading my mind, Kelsey tugged a periwinkle hair band off her wrist and tied her locks up in a high ponytail. “Much better,” she murmured.
She pulled a Sprite out of its plastic ring and handed a can to me. It was icy cold. “Did you put these in the freezer or something?” I asked, gulping it down. I was drinking soda from the Antarctic.
“Yep,” Kelsey responded. It came out more like “yop” because; she too, was slurping down her soda. “Mom knew it was gonna be smoking today, so she put a ton of drinks in the freezer so that when we took ‘em out they wouldn’t turn lukewarm. Take a Popsicle.” She handed me an orange Popsicle that was dripping.
I licked it and it tasted delicious. Even though the juice was trickling down my arm and on to my new t-shirt, I didn’t care. The Popsicle was refreshing and tasty, and that’s all I ever care about on a 98º day.
While I was devouring my sweet, Kelsey said to me, “How do I look?”
I turned around and gaped at her. She had juice all over her face and feet, plus some on her nose. How it got there, I didn’t know. We both began to crack up at the same time. “Nice look!” I yelled between chuckles.
“I’m thinking of using orange Popsicle juice as my prom make up,” she joked. “Or how ‘bout strawberry?”
Here we were, rolling on the ground laughing, like best friends. I did many amazing things that summer, but looking back, that was the best part.