Mango Passion and The Male Species (Editing)

Chapter 7 || Get a Hold of Your Raging Teenage Hormones

C H A P T E R     S E V E N:

"The world needs dreamers and the world needs doers, but above all the world needs dreamers who do."

~ Sarah Breathnach

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For years, I've wondered what my "talent" is. From 3rd-6th grade I believed that mine was swinging because I could get higher than anyone else, but then I flipped all the way over one day and broke my wrist and that squashed my professional swinging dreams. After that unfortunate incident I decided that I would try something a little more practical. It started with volleyball, and then soccer, and then I tried my hand at theatre. Sydney always told me that I didn't need to do any of that stupid stuff, that I should invest in her talent. When I asked what that might be, she replied, "getting high" and proceeded to shove a blunt in my face.

I did pride myself on my smoothie-making skills, actually, but then Aaron came along and made a better one without even trying. Not super fair.

But this morning I think I've finally figured out what my specialty is. I'm absolutely, undeniably amazing at being the ugliest sleeper the city of Santa Cruz has ever seen.

I twitch awake at the sun peeking into the window and finding a direct path to my eyes. My hair is matted and tangled into a bird's nest and I can feel dry mascara on my cheek. I can already tell my breath smells like old eggs. I am not, shall we say, a morning person.

I wiggle under the comforter, which is much heavier than any other blanket I've ever used. What the fuck? I force my left foot out and kick it off.

"Watch it," someone grumbles, and I feel the blanket move on top of me. Squinting, my eyes adjust to the room. It is, in fact, not a comforter that is on me at all. It is Becca, who has also managed to transfer an impressive amount of drool onto my shirt.

I ease Becca off my stomach and let her head flop down to the carpeted floor before navigating my way over to Levi, who is splayed across the couch. His glasses fell onto her chest during the night so I gently remove them and place them on the coffee table.

The next order of business is Cleo. I didn't plan to spend the night at Kye's, but at about one truth or dare fizzled out and we all crashed. I pull out my cell phone and dial the home number, because I know she won't pick up her cell. She answers after three rings, and that's when all hell breaks loose. Well, sorta.

"You careless, reckless, air-headed little shit, what were you thinking? Where the hell are you?" she yells at me, and I can imagine her wavy locks of hair bouncing all over the place as she goes on a rampage through the house.

I don't know what to say and no excuses for staying out all night are coming to mind. So when my mouth finally opens, I'm pleasantly surprised at myself.

"You told me to be adventurous," I blurt. That shuts her up for a minute.

"Fair point," she says finally. "I am no longer angry. So, tell me all about it. Boys? Kissing? Dancing?"

"Should you really be asking me that?" I chuckle into the phone.

"I'm the cool Aunt. I'm the only one in your immediate family who is allowed to ask you that."

"Oh, wait, I totally forgot! How was your date?"

I can almost hear her brighten at the mention of it. "Amazing," she gushes. "He was such a gentleman. We went to dinner at the pier and took a long walk on the beach at sunset. At one point, he even chased me into the water and got my dress all wet. But I didn't really care. Oh and did I mention he's very hot?"