User blog:SodaCat/Millstone - iridescent


 * ir·i·des·cent
 * irəˈdes(ə)nt
 * adjective
 * producing a display of rainbowlike colors





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115 days before

September 8th, 2007

Saturday

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I woke up feeling sore, like I'd been run over by a truck, and from the way my head was pounding I probably had been.

It took a while for everything to come back, so for a little bit there I wasn't even sure it was all there. It came back, though, so I guess I wasn't that drunk. And don't gimme that look about underage drinking--we all say we don't but we all know we do, or did.

The first of my observations was that I was laying outside my apartment, on the sidewalk outside of the Chinese joint that was below it. Wade was standing beside me, wearing the same clothes from yesterday, fumbling around with the keys with this big, stupid grin on his face.

I tried to stand, but I kept doin' it too fast so my head kept aching everytime I did, so I just settled for a cool lean against the wall behind me that probably looked more dorky than I realized.

"What happened, man?" I asked him, rubbing at my temples and just now realizing my shirt was covered in dirt and grass stains.

"I don't know. You started drinking and I lost sight of you pretty early on. I found you asleep in the yard an hour ago."

I remember wincing at that, real classy. "Any girls around?" I asked, soundin' like a real dork.

He gave me this look, this look that was like, 'man, I'm glad I'm not you' and he laughed. "There was one. Brown hair, standing by you with this weird look on her face. Kept poking you with a stick. I think she thought you were dead."

My face reddened at that, I'm sure it did, and I crossed my arms as he finally got the apartment door open and we started walkin' up the stairs to get to my room.

"Feel sorry for yourself later," Wade said, and for the first time that morning I noticed how damn excited he sounded, "I gotta tell you something. It's fucking great so listen up."

I was in the middle of pulling my shirt off, when I just stopped and looked at him. I've seen Wade this excited about something only once in my life, and that was a week after I met him that two sodas came out of the vending machine when he shoved a nerd into it.

"I met a girl," he said simply, looking at me with this look as if he expected me to start jumping up and down and asking him all about the "deets" like his sister would do.

We stood like that for a real long time, him with that dumb giddy expression and me still expecting the juicy part--did he get laid? What?--until suddenly he got real mad and yelled 'screw you' and changed his shirt.

Laughing, I finished pulling my shirt off and grabbed one of the fresh ones my ma had washed last night and left folded on my bed. "I'm just playin' with you, dude. What's she like?"

Really I meant how big were her boobs. I don't think he got the point.

"She's so cool, dude. For one thing she was totally fine with just making out. But it wasn't like what my sister does where she just makes out and moves on. While we were hooking up and stuff, we were like, talking."

He took a moment to catch his breath, he was that excited.

"She likes videogames and shit and she's real funny and she knows how to play hockey."

"You like hockey?" I remember asking, 'cause that wasn't something about Wade I knew, and shit, I knew everything about Wade.

He shook his head as if I was just asking random crap. "Not the point, man. Point is, she's not a bitch. I got her number."

He pulled out a tiny crumpled up paper that I could just barely make out curly numbers written in dark blue pen on.

Snatching it from him, I took it in with wide eyes. Me and Wade never had a ton of problems with girls--sure we both had our share of girls who laughed in our faces--but never had one of us actually gotten something as committing as a phone number. I'm not even sure if either of us had ever had a girlfriend, save for this one pair of chicks we dated in freshman year who turned out to just want us to make their real boyfriends jealous.

"No shit, man," I said, still staring at the paper, "this is real?"

I knew he shrugged from the ruffling of his shirt. "I think so. I haven't tried it out yet, my phone's dead. You got yours?"

"Shit," I mumbled, feeling all over my pants to see where the hell I put my phone. Finding it shoved down my boxers--don't ask me how--I pulled it out and handed it to Wade, who didn't even bat an eyelash at the fact that I just pulled that thing outta my undies.

Flipping it open, he punched the numbers into the recipient box for a text, and then froze up as soon as he reached the actual text message box. He looked up at me with his eyes all wide and his face all serious.

"I don't know what to say."

Furrowing my eyebrows, I shrugged. "I don't know, man, I'm about as good with girls as you are. Just say hi?"

He followed my directions like a puppet, and I watched as he typed 'hey' into the box before pushing send. We both waited around like excited little girls, in my crummy three room apartment bedroom, the sunlight filtered in by my dirty window the only thing illuminating us.

We nearly screamed when the phone buzzed with a reply.

"'Who is this?'" Wade read aloud, and we both let out a big gulp of air.

"Of course, dumbass, she doesn't know who's talking to her," I rolled my eyes, though I didn't think of it neither, and Wade pointed this out real nicely by elbowing me in the ribs. While I tried to catch my breath he texted back who he was, and that he was on my phone 'cause his was dead.

The reply back was a lot better, and Wade grinned down at the screen as he read it to me. "'Oh hey, I was wondering if you'd text me back. Text me your number?'".

He looked at me real triumphant, like he'd just won some major contest or something, which to be fair he kinda did. If this girl was really everything he said she was--and, I'm assuming, hot--then he scored big time.

"What the hell are you waiting for?!" I demanded, feeling as excited as he looked, "Text her back!"

I mean, pick your poison, right?