Too Hot for Februrary

She feels disconnected, and maybe a little sad, just like she always does. Maybe this time, it's because palm trees don't provide much when it comes to shade, and it's too hot for a February.

She was one of those pretty girls; one who never had to wake up early and fuss over their hair or makeup to look good. Beauty seemed to flow around her naturally. Her hair had that wavy, free beach curl that most girls would kill for, and it was red like red velvet. Her eyes were a bright, light green, like a Granny Smith Apple. Her skin was pale and dusted lightly with freckles. Her lips were thin and pink. A stereotypical ginger, everyone liked to call her.

Despite her looks, she'd never felt pretty. How could she be pretty, she would think, if she never wore any makeup? She went through a short phase when she was in middle school, during which she was always wearing makeup. She wouldn't even leave the house to walk the dog or take out the trash without putting on makeup. One day, after a boy in the halls she’d never talked to before rudely asked her if her lips were bleeding, when it was just the dark red lipstick that she had been so excited to wear, she had stopped for a while, out of fear of looking silly. She’d started putting on makeup again, after the time it took for her confidence to rebuild, but a girl who she thought she was sort of friends with tore her down and made her afraid again. “You don’t know how to put on makeup, do you?” she sneered one day, picking apart every single detail of her makeup.

She'd been meaning to start wearing makeup again, she really had, but never found the motivation. Boys never talked to her, and there would always be at least one girl who would always look better than her. Makeup was just too stressful, she’d found, too stressful to even wear when she was alone, and there was no one to belittle her.. She'd hold a mascara wand in front of her face for hours at end, or fixedly stare at an opened lipstick, but would start to feel panicky, and never actually got around to putting it on. She always felt ugly without makeup, like she was the only girl who decided to go natural. You don’t need makeup to be pretty! Countless lectures from her mother and TV shows would constantly try to drill that into her brain, but she felt like that was a lie.

She was bitterly thinking about this one February afternoon, an afternoon where it felt too hot to be a February. The sun was shining, there wasn't a cloud in the sky, and no one was wearing long sleeves. She was laying under a palm tree, trying to make use of its shade. She burned easily, and didn't want to put any more sunscreen on. She hated the way it made her skin smell.

The campus activity wasn't hindered by the heat. Students rushed by her on sidewalks, not bothering to look up from their phones, briskly walking to their next destination. A few feet away from her, a boy with hipster glasses, arms covered in tattoos, and a shirt referencing a band no one’s ever heard of, sat cross-legged in the grass, angrily typing something on his sticker infested laptop and muttering to himself under his breath. Behind him, two muscular, sweaty boys without their shirts were throwing around a worn out football and excitedly shouting to each other. Couples sat on nearby benches, being a little too affectionate, and near the student union, a group of students all sat in awe, watching two black girls passionately argue about something petty. Most of the spectators had their phones out, eagerly recording the confrontation for people they hardly even know to watch on their Snapchat stories.

And then there was her. Lying alone in the damp, muddy grass under the subpar shade of a palm tree, listening to an old Lana Del Rey song on a shiny, silver iPod she'd had since 8th grade, with cheap Apple headphones whose days were surely numbered. She didn't have anyone to angrily message on a laptop, no best buddy to toss around a football with, no boyfriend to make out with on a dirty, gum-infested bench, and no smartphone to film the black girls’ squabble. All she had in terms of a phone was a Blackberry Classic, simply because she didn't even have any friends to talk to with a smartphone. What was the point of getting one without friends? She didn't even use social media. And smartphones were so expensive, anyway.

She was disconnected from everything, and that made her feel kind of sad, as she watched all the activity that went on without her.

She closed her eyes and tried to imagine, for a second, that she was on the beach, laying on a sand-covered towel. Her music made her crave the ocean. There was a slight breeze in the air that tickled her skin and blew her hair in her face, and she could smell something that vaguely reminded her of saltwater, even though it was probably just the garbage. But the breeze didn't last, and was replaced again with blazing heat.

“Hello!”

The sudden, unexpected greeting made her jump. Her eyes flew open, her heart stopped for a second, and she looked up at the boy crouching a couple of feet away from her. He was cute, with messy, blond hair that looked like it would be fluffy if she touched it, tanned skin, freckles dotting his cheeks and nose, green eyes only a little darker than hers, and a goofy smile spread across his face.

She felt self-conscious suddenly. As usual, she didn't think she looked very good. She was wearing the same green shirt she always wore, the one with the white embroidered flower designs, the same torn jean shorts she’d had since junior year of high school, and the same scruffy pair of grey tennis shoes. The only thing new was a wicker headband holding her hair away from her face, covered in colorful, plastic flowers. She'd got it the day before at Target, mainly because it was on sale and she’d felt an odd attraction towards it. Her pale blue nail polish was chipping away, and she was worried that that looked bad, too.

He didn't seem to have put that much effort into his outfit, either, which made her feel better, but nervous at the same time. He wore a white t-shirt with a small hole that sort of exposed his right n****e if she looked close enough, bearing a faded red design she couldn't quite make out, tan cargo shorts which had something big in its left pocket, and white Vans which were just as dirty as her tennis shoes were. Maybe even a little dirtier.

“Hi,” she managed to choke out after a few seconds. She was still in shock that a boy would actually approach her, just out of the blue like that. She'd never really had much experience with boys. She was always too quiet for anyone to ever take an interest in her, and if someone did, she would always close up, and the relationship would die before it even started.

The boy’s grin grew a little. He sat next to her on the grass, staring at her with an expression that almost looked fascinated. “I'm sorry if I’m interrupting anything important, and I’m painfully aware that this comes across as kinda creepy, but I love your hair. It's such a pretty color.”

She could feel her cheeks burning up. She bit down on her lower lip to try to suppress a smile, but it wasn't working very well. She inadvertently twirled a strand of her hair around her finger. “Thanks!”

“Is it natural? I mean, the color and stuff?” The boy asked, rubbing his chin. His green eyes sparkled with genuine curiosity as he looked her hair over again, like a playful child.

“Y-yep. It's funny, b-because no one else has hair like mine in my family...not my parents, or cousins, or anyone...but my parents swear I wasn't adopted!” She laughed softly, but the laugh trailed off, as she started worrying that she was talking too much.

The boy laughed, which made her a little self-conscious again. She usually wasn't this talkative with anyone. And she couldn't figure out why she was being so talkative right now.

The boy asked something that she didn't hear. “What was that?” she asked, yanking out her left headphone. Suddenly, she realized that it might have been rude to leave her headphones in while this boy was talking to her. She started fretting about that, too.

If the boy did think it was rude, he didn’t show it. He just laughed again. “I just asked what you're listening to.” He absentmindedly twirled a messy curl of his hair around his index finger. “You seemed pretty into it when I saw you earlier,” he said, gesturing to the sidewalk a few feet away from them with his free hand. “Then I noticed your hair...I'm just curious.” He added, before flashing his goofy smile again.

She could feel herself blushing more. “Ah..i-it's Summer Wine, by Lana Del Rey.”

He cocked his head like a confused puppy. “Don't think I've heard that one before. Can I listen to a little of it?” Before she could answer, he grabbed the free headphone and popped it into his ear. A light, angelic voice flowed into their ears.

Strawberries, cherries, and an angel’s kiss in spring,
my summer wine is really made from all these things.
Take off your silver spurs, and help me pass the time,
And I will give you you, summer wine.
Mmm, summer wine...

The boy’s smile grew bigger. “That's kinda pretty!” He turned back to her and gave her another curious glance. “Who'd you say this is by, again?”

She blushed, even though there was nothing flirty about that statement at all. “It’s by Lana Del Rey.”

“Lana Del Rey...” His face crinkled up a little in thought, before bouncing back up again with another goofy grin. “Hey, I know her! She's, like, that sugar daddy chick, right?”

She burst into laughter. “Uh...kind of...?” She laughed again.

The boy laughed with her. He took out the headphone and gingerly set in on the grass. He looked back at her. “Well, she's got a very pretty voice. You, my fair lady, have a good taste in music. And I feel terribly guilty for taking you away from it to ask you about your hair.”

She could feel her face burning up even more. It felt like her cheeks were going to fall off from blushing so much. “Thanks. And it’s no problem,” she whispered.

“So, uh...” the boy started, after a somewhat awkward silence. He rubbed the back of his neck and looked down at his shoes. “I know I probably seem kinda weird, you know, being a random stranger and all, but...you wanna hang out sometime?” He looked back up at her, giving her a warm, hopeful smile.

“Oh...! I...u-uh...” She felt herself getting all panicky again. No boy had ever asked her out and meant it. All throughout high school, boys were dared constantly to ask her out, and they always shattered her a little every time they did so. She couldn't even tell if this boy was being sincere or not. He had just showed up, showering her with jokes and compliments. She had no idea how to react.

The boy took in her flustered reaction. He leaned back and ran a hand through his messy hair. He looked back down at his shoes and sighed. “Oh....I feel stupid for asking. Should've known...you have a boyfriend already, huh?”

Her eyes widened and she quickly shook her head.

“Oh, uh...girlfriend, then?”

“N-no, I'm single. But...no one’s ever asked m-me out before, and-”

“What? Really! No one?” The boy asked. He seemed genuinely shocked.

She shook her head. “No...”

The boy quietly whistled. “Damn...why's that? I figured all the guys would be chasing after you, with looks like those...”

With looks like those. That just made her panic even more as she mulled over the words in her head. Hardly anyone called her pretty. Her parents had, of course, but only out of parental obligation. She didn’t have an Instagram or a Snapchat to get instant likes on a selfie, or a best friend, or any friend, really, to comb her hair during sleepovers or go shopping for outfits with.

“Well...what do you say?” the boy asked eagerly, abruptly bringing her back to reality. “There's this new movie out that's supposed to be pretty funny, and I was thinking, maybe later today-”

“I can't. I'm sorry,” she cut him short, shoving her iPod and headphones hastily into her pocket and zipping up her worn-out backpack. She threw it on her shoulders and stood up suddenly, frantically thinking up an excuse to leave.

The boy looked up at her, confused. His hopeful face fell a little. “Wait, what? Why not? And where are you going so suddenly?”

“Class!” she said, grabbing the first thing that came to her head. “I’m, uh...I just remembered I’ve got a class in a few minutes, and, I-I...I’m just going to be busy for the rest of today.” She started walking towards the direction of the sidewalk, briskly walking toward the crowd of students.

“Awh...well, can we at least meet up another time?” the boy called after her. She didn't answer. She didn't even look back. She just rushed down the sidewalk, trying her best to blend in with the mess of people, walking past the black girls, who were still going strong, and the angry typing hipster, and the passionate couples, and the rowdy frat boys, until she found the nearest bathroom. She went in and slumped into a stall.

She sat on a closed toilet seat and fought back tears, tugging the ends of her hair.

“What just happened?” she whimpered, tears clouding her vision. She didn't know why that just ended the way it did. There, under the scarce shade of a palm tree, was the first boy who had ever given her attention. He'd made her laugh, made her blush, even asked her out. And she just ran away, for a reason she couldn’t even pinpoint.

“He called me pretty,” she bitterly whispered, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Why couldn't I have just acted like a normal girl?”

Author's Note

I wrote this two months ago, at midnight. The story came to me out of nowhere, I jotted it down, and didn't come back to it until yesterday. I fixed it up, and this is what came out. Tell me what you think!

Reviews

[Zoë]

I was hoping to give you a great in-depth review. But, honestly, there's not much more I can say after Andrew's great comments, and I didn't find many grammar problems so I couldn't pick on those either.
But, because I don't have much I want to talk about I'm not really going to focus on the good and I'm more going to point out things that I thought could've been better, but I do think this was fantastically written and you've officially made me jealous of the way you write descriptions.

Moving on, while a lot of your story felt real or plausible there were several parts where I felt like you were trying too hard. There were just some parts where I felt like you were forcing the story to go a specific way instead of letting it naturally flow.

One of these points was with all the technology you mentioned. Specifically with the two girls fighting, you said people were recording for their snapchat stories, except, as you probably know, those only go up to ten seconds. So it would be ridiculous to film with that app; instead you would film with a regular camera then send it to people through messanger or post it on instagram, either way, I kinda got off topic. You seem to make a point to reference specific technologies. You do this with snapchat, you do it with Blackberry Classic, you do it with the ipod and headphones, and while description is good, this is a bit over the top. It seems like you're forcing all this technology on me, and, because of the story, I honestly couldn't care less what type of phone she has or what the other kids are recording with.
There was a section that I really liked how you described the technology and that was with the sticker infested (good word) laptop. It wasn't over the top. It wasn't specific. It wasn't forced. It was perfect, you said "laptop" and I was like "Oh, that's nice. Hipster guy has a laptop." But then you turned it right back around and took a paragraph (I may be over exaggerating) to describe her Ipod. Which isn't that important, though it added a nice feel to the story, so I can't be too harsh on it. But, you still seem to try really hard to point out what specific technology is involved in the story when that's really not something I want to focus on when reading a story like this.

Another overpowering thing was her lack of friends/people that liked her.
1. Normally someone has at least one friends because of some random quark they both like. It's just how it works. Unless you're trying to get rid of people on purpose you'll always have one person that you confide in. Like seriously, do you understand how hard it is to be friendless? Because it's pretty impossible. Seriously, I read a book where the main character is raised to be the perfect serial killer, and even though people know that he could very easily kill them, he's still got more friends than this girl. So her having absolutely no one to text, talk to, message, care about it a little over the top and hard to believe. Though I understand what you were trying to do by making her alone.
2. You make it painfully obvious that she friendless by saying it repeatedly, multiple times, over and over again. I get it, she has no friends, you can stop now.

And I think my final point is her surprising lack of character. Even though you show us a lot about her, and she feels like a very real person, she has no personality other that being concerned/nervous/low-self-esteemy. You focus too much on make-up, you focus a lot on the stereotypical "you look beautiful even if you aren't or you don't wear make-up", and you focus on her actions. Honestly, for me, her actions are what make her seem real and relatable. But, apart from that, she's got no personality, no quirks, nothing that makes her her own individual special. Right now she's just showing up as a stereotypical pretty popular girl minus the popularity and adding low self esteem, which isn't a character that people really want to invest in because it's "blank". I know it was a short story, but with all the other things you managed to fit in I don't believe that you couldn't fit in something to make her more... (I don't know) human?

Whooh, look at me. I said I was gonna keep this short and I ended up ranting... oh well. I hope this all helps. And do keep in mind that this story was fantastically told and written. I enjoyed reading it and the ending was something I truly wasn't expecting (so points to you). If you ever want me to read something else of yours and review it just let me know :) and if there's anything else you want me to comment on/explain more just ask, I'm more than happy to help.

[Andrew Nelson Stewart]

Throughout the story you presented me with beautiful flow with going beyond the five senses and putting in sensations beyond sight and sound. It’s always great to read about a character who takes note of the hot metal-and-oil aroma that lingers over the rails after a fast train has passed, or the weight of a new tweed coat on his shoulders. In this case, I saw and felt her fears speaking as a living person walking around her at all times, protecting her from what beliefs and opinions that were shoved down her throat. Lowering her self-esteem presented as the obstacle the character must overcome. You'd also Embrace idiosyncrasies in this well done story. People behave rationally only part of the time; the rest of the time we take stupid risks and do other things we can’t explain. How you displayed the last scene with the main character asking herself 'Why couldn't I have just acted like a normal girl?” in reference to the experience with attention given her because it was new to her. Similarly, any number of terrific plot turns can result when you give a character an obsession—random or not—or an idiosyncrasy that can act as a thread through the story which you did beautifully.

For instance, someone who is obsessed can become single-mindedly so, leading to horrible errors in judgment. Control freaks turn vainglorious and become prone to fatal decisions.

For what caught me the most was the character’s weirdness which kept me guessing all the way along; it can kept me compelled, As I try to understand and spin theories. Your audience they might not even notice but they will get a feeling that for some hard-to-pinpoint reason, this character just seems genuine. Keep writing felt you wrote from the heart.