Beach Bums

Staring Is Rude

I happily rode my bike along the boardwalk, taking in the people and the intoxicating smell of the ocean gently kissing the shore. I finally found an frozen yogurt place-a very acceptable substitute for icecream-and I must say it is the cutest little place I've ever seen. I chain my bike to the gate and lazily walk inside. I almost turn around when I see so many other kids my age in here. This is not good. I have like the worst social anxiety. I keep my head down and shuffle to the back where the cups are.

I get a mix of a bunch of different yogurts and toppings and finally head to the counter. My nerves are basically shot, and I can feel eyes on the back of my neck. Ergh, don't these people have anything else to do than stare at someone getting their frozen yogurt. It's not that exciting. I mean, for me it is because it's food, but it shouldn't be for them. I struggle not to bolt under all the eyes. I pay for the yogurt after the cashier takes an exceptionally long time to ring me up- like come on it's just yogurt, not rocket science-and speed walk out the door to one of the tables set up outside.

I flop down on the chair with relief. I'm definitely going to check next time before going in. I tap my leg up and down as I eat my yogurt, trying not to stand up. I feel restless from sitting down, even if it is only for a couple of minutes. I tap my leg harder.

I savor the sweet and creamy taste of the yogurt. It's been decided, I'm definitely coming back here when it is less crowded. I think I might have just become addicted to frozen yogurt. I soak up the warmth radiating from the black iron chair, feeling the summer attitude fill me. Maybe tomorrow I can get my parents to take me to the beach. I know we can't go today because of unpacking, but tomorrow is a definite possibility.

I'm almost finished with my yogurt when a girl plops in the seat in front of me. I freeze, feeling the anxiousness creep back into me. Maybe she's here to make fun of me...or steal my yogurt...or both. 

Her hair is a light pink, which surprises me. I've never seen anyone with pink hair before. It suits her though. It brings out her light brown eyes and accents her tan complexion. It falls in long waves behind her back. Her clothes are somewhat hippyish and I'm immediately jealous. She's gorgeous with awesome clothes. Not fair.

She stares at me and waits for me to speak. I look down and quickly take another bite of my yogurt. She lets out a loud laugh and I almost jump a little. You would never be able to tell at first glance that such a loud laugh could erupt from her vocal cords.

"Hi, I'm Pinky. Nice to meet you." She says in a loud voice that matches her laugh. She holds out her hand and I tentatively shake it. I struggle to find my voice.

"I'm Daisy. Is, uh, Pinky your real name?" I ask, trying not to panic. She lets out her bubbling laughter again.

"No, my real name is Nancy, but that doesn't really suit me at all, so I decided to go by Pinky. The pink hair helped." She replied. I nod.

"So you're probably the new girl, huh?" I shoot her a confused look. How did she know I just moved here? Is she stalking me or something?

"Lots of people come to visit here, but it's different when someone actually moves here. Plus I live in the neighborhood. I thought about visiting your house but I wanted to make sure my information was correct first." She says. I let out an unnoticeable sigh of relief. She's not a crazy stalker or yogurt-stealing bully.

"Uh, well it is. We just moved into the house today. I got bored unpacking so I found this place." My voice comes out softer than I intended. I absent-mindedly twiddle with the ever permanent bracelets on my wrist. I feel my leg start to tap again, and the urge to stand up returns stronger than ever. I fiddle with my phone on the table and my leg taps harder. I wince when I here how obnoxious it sounds, but I can't help it. Suddenly she grabs my phone and starts to type something.