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At this point in the interview, Hollie Berry removed her microphone. So while we can’t know exactly what she said to Mr. Tucker as a parting shot, the middle finger salute she gave him as she stormed off stage was pretty clear.
High School
MIA
I was an eighteen-year-old high school senior the first time I claimed my coal. Fed up with my perfect little doll image, I had my long hair shaved to a buzz.
It felt stylish, edgy, and more in line with my new look of dark eye-makeup, combat boots and oversized flannels. My mom just shook her head at me, smiling. I’m not sure my father even noticed the change. I guess in his eye, I’d just always be his pretty little girl, either dressed in pink from head to toe, or in my new emo uniform. My sister thought it was cool and tagged along on some fun shopping trips. It’s with my friends that things didn’t go too well…
* * *
“I guess you’re not coming to the mall tomorrow, huh?” My best friend, Halima, questions, brow raised, hand on her hip. Acting like an absolute bitch in front of our group of girlfriends, who exchange catty smiles and avoid my gaze.
I stare at her with incredulity. Her beautiful porcelain skin, delicate features, nymph like form and long ebony hair. The dark eyes that used to convey so much warmth and affection for me-
“No, I’m not interested in aimlessly hanging out at the mall during finals, and that’s not new,” I retort, gathering my things to walk away from them.
I’m so done with this mess!Ever since I shaved my hair, Halima’s been an absolute pain in my ass. Nothing like the girl I’ve known since childhood, been to school, hung out with every weekend for more than a decade and had countless sleepovers with. She used to be my ride or die. We spoke for hours about our dreams. How we’d wear amazing gowns on our wedding days, marry the most handsome and loving men, travel the world, make the cutest babies, and just have it all. Now we can barely stand to be in the same room as each other.
Guess I was supposed to ask for her permission or something.I really don’t get what Halima’s problem is. I’m still the same person, and not the show-off she thinks.Fuck, scratching the itch to change my style shouldn’t be this big of a deal. It doesn’t mean I’m labeling anyone as boring, or thinking of myself as better. Rolling my eyes, I hurry to class and ignore the snickering drama queens behind my back. I’m trying to stay strong and calm in the face of ignorance.
Ask anyone, they’ll tell you, high school’s a nightmare only made bearable by your tribe, the close circle you choose and build for yourself. Well, mine disintegrated the minute I walked into school with my hair shaved close to my scalp. First, it was the judgmental looks from the staff and pretty much every student, from freshmen to my fellow seniors. Then came the pointed fingers and guffaws from ignoramus kids. All that I could handle because I love my new vibe and I have the support of the people who mattered to me, my family, and closest friends. At least, I thought I did… till Halima started going all Mean Girl on me.
I plop into a chair, throw my messenger bag on the desk, and lay my head and crossed forearms on top.Fuck.
When I pull out my textbook, a folded piece of paper falls on the tabletop. My fingers automatically unfold what appears to be a note with a single sentence scribbled in neat handwriting.
‘I think you’re beautiful with short hair.’
What?! Who slipped this in my bag? How?!! When did they…?My eyes quickly scan the classroom, looking for any suspicious face, but there’s not much to work with. The other kids are still scattered around in small groups, some goofing, others on their phones. No one is paying me any attention. Of course, now that I’ve been the new distraction for a week, my time under the spotlight is up.
This is either the sweetest or the crappiest thing anyone has ever done to me, if it’s some kind of joke. I search for Halima and find her in an animated discussion with the girls. They’re probably planningourusual afternoon hangout at the mall without me. So, it’s definitely not a note of encouragement from her or any of my other former girlfriends.
My gaze falls back on the piece of paper, rereading the kind words, then my eyes continue roaming around the room. All I see are bored faces and huddles of teenagers messing around in the short time we have left before the teacher walks in.
And there’s someone sitting quietly in a corner of the room, with his head turned toward the window. His beautiful profile pulls my eyes like it always does. The golden tan of his skin, dark brown eyes I want to drown myself into, his strong masculine features, the thin layer of scruff covering the lower half of his face. The defined biceps nicely stretching the short sleeves of his cotton t-shirt. His corded forearms, covered in a thin layer of dark hair.Lord. Barrett Adam, my lifelong crush. The tall, quiet, handsome boy who barely knows I exist.
Barrett grew up in the same neighborhood as Halima and I, in our small California Central Coast town of Del Mar. Our families all know each other. We grew up playing at the same park and hanging out at each other’s houses.
I always had a soft spot for Barrett. From when he was a scrawny kid to the moment he turned into every high school girl’s fantasy.
As always, I try my best to not let my gaze linger too long over his handsome features and man-boy body. I try not to imagine how it would feel to have his low baritone rumble sweet nothings in my ear for hours over the phone. I REALLY try, but he’s just too darn dreamy. The kid is nice, quiet, fucking hot, a good student, a talented athlete. And he never gets in trouble. Fucking perfect.
So no, as much as I wish this beautiful note came from Barrett, I won’t fool myself.
Although, there was that one time- a magical afternoon when the stars aligned and gifted me a stolen moment with the boy who makes my heart beat faster.
***
It was a rainy day. My car wouldn’t start, my parents were held up at work, my sister at school, and everyone had already left campus. So I called the roadside assistance service.
I was waiting under the admin building, annoyed to be stuck at school after everyone went home, worried about my car, and altogether having a crappy day. Completely unaware of my surroundings, when a deep voice called my name.
“Mia.”
I startled and turned in the voice’s direction to come face to face with a sweatshirt covered male chest. My eyes traveled up, up, up. Lingering over a corded, deliciously tanned neck. Higher to a carved jaw covered in a five-o’clock-shadow. The pair of full, sculpted lips that haunted my naughtiest adolescent fantasies. That strong, masculine nose I wanted to lick the bridge of. Till my eyes met the furrowed brow and brooding gaze of my crush.
“Oh- hey Barrett…” I stuttered. “What are you still doing here?”
