That Boy (11 page)

“
Flat as a pancake.”

“
String bean.”

“
Toothpick.”

“
Tall drink of water.”

“
Bean Pole.”

That's one I don't really get. I mean I understand the bean part, and the pole part, but what is a bean pole anyway? You'd think beings I'm from a place where beans grow in fields and that I have actually
walked beans,
that I would know, but I don't. Speaking of walking beans, I truly believe Congress needs to step in and enact some child endangerment legislation against that job.

Have you ever walked beans?

It's the most disgusting thing on earth. I lasted one day, well half a day, really. I just couldn't see mucking around in the mud and the sun with all the bugs, chopping down weeds with a scythe.

Yes, a scythe.

Do you
know
what a scythe is? It's like a huge, sharp, curved pirate sword.

And they hand them out to kids!

I am very fortunate that I didn't chop off one of my legs, while cutting down those stubborn weeds. That or the guy's leg in the row next to me. And I have to tell you, when you think weeds, you think maybe a few here and a few there, like at home in your landscaping. But NO, there are about a gazillion weeds in each row. And these weeds aren't just little things either, but often times are corn stalks. And it takes a lot of work to chop just
one
of them down. And I swear, each bean row must be,
at a minimum
, several hundred miles long.

At least that's what it felt like.

After about four hours of walking beans, I have to admit, I was ready to use the scythe on myself, just to make the misery stop. But then I figured I'd forever be remembered as the girl who killed herself in a bean field.

Not exactly the legacy I am hoping for!

So I quit. I'll take babysitting some cute kids as a summer job any day. You take the kids to the pool, flirt with the lifeguards and get a wicked tan. You go have ice cream, take the kids home and put them down for a nap. Then you sit in the air conditioning and watch Oprah and your soaps. A much nicer working environment, I think.

But back to the bean pole thing.

I looked it up on the Internet and guess what? There
is
such a thing as a beanpole. It's all one word. It is
a thin pole used to support bean vines
. Just what you would think, I guess, but I can tell you that I
never
saw one of them during my bean walking experience!

Where was I?

Oh, yeah, my bikini body.

It seems a strange thing happened this year. I went from a nonexistent A cup to a nice full B. Granted, Katie and Lisa have had boobs like this since about sixth grade - okay, so my body is a little slow - but I have to say, they were worth the wait! For once in my life, I actually fill out a bikini top on my own (as in, no padding) and it looks pretty good, I think. I
almost
feel sexy in it. Mom was with me when I found it. At first I thought it might be a little
too
skimpy, but she liked it on me.

She said, “If you've got it, flaunt it because once you have kids, your body will never be the same.”

This from a woman who is 5'9” and a perfect size 6. She goes and works out three times a week with a group of friends. Although from the sound of it, I suspect there is more gossiping and coffee-drinking going on than actual exercising. However, she must be doing something right because she still wears a bikini herself and looks good in it. When we go on vacation to the beach, it's really kind of embarrassing because the young guys pay more attention to her than they do me.

Maybe there is hope for me.

Of course, I'd prefer not to have to wait twenty years before I get a boy to notice me in a swimsuit.

In all seriousness, I know there are large, really important issues in the world. World peace, terrorism, nuclear arms and global warming. But honestly, finding the perfect swimsuit has got to be at the very tip top of most women's list, regardless of race, religion, political, or sexual orientation. So in finding this perfect bikini, I really feel I've done my part to help conquer this great world issue.

I'm thinking about the bikini's big inaugural event. It will first be viewed by the public, and specifically Jake, who I've been dating off and on for about three months now, at a big river outing some of us are having next weekend. Today my plan is to hide in the back yard and fill in my tan lines, so it really looks great.

I am prepared to lay in the sun all afternoon if that's what it takes.

I am so proud of my strong convictions!

I have the whole place to myself. Mom is at a volunteer meeting and Dad is at work. Jake would be pissed to learn that I'm home alone and not begging him to come over, you know, so we can
be alone
, but I'm not in the mood to deal with
that
today. It's too perfect of a day. So I put the stringy thing on and appraise myself in the mirror.

Not bad.

The bikini is of the string variety, like I said. It's supposed to look like the American flag. One side of the triangular top is blue with white stars, the other side is red with white stripes. The bottoms are also red and white stripes and all the stringys are made from the star fabric. It is really very cute.

I head out to the backyard, move my chaise into the sun and cover myself with a mixture of baby oil and iodine. I know, I
know
, no sun block is a bad thing. But my Mom used it when she was young, and she doesn't have cancer or anything. Plus, it works great! I lie down on my stomach first. Next to me is a table with an ice-cold diet Coke and a trashy novel to read if I so desire. Playing is my current favorite mix CD.

Aw. Perfection.

I close my eyes and start to daydream. I'm envisioning Jake's possible reactions to the tiny bikini. They have ranged, so far, from him wrapping me in a towel because he is so desperately jealous and doesn't want anyone else to see it, to attacking me with kisses out on a raft, to his fainting in amazement of my body, to….…

“Hey, Jay,” a male voice says.

I open one eye and see Danny's head peeking through the gate.

“Come play catch with me and Mac.”

Oh come on. Can't you see I am VERY busy!

“Aw, Danny, I can't. I've got oil all over me.”

“Please Jay, I've got football camp coming up, and I haven't thrown a pass in two weeks.”

“What about Kelly Majesky?” I reply smartly, referring to his latest in a long string of female conquests.

Really, if Danny was a girl, he would totally be considered a slut.

“
Football
passes, Jay,” he says smoothly, rolling those baby blue eyes at me. “Come on.”

“I can't, Danny. I really need to work on my tan today. I'm all set up here.”

“When we're done, I'll take you and Phillip to the Shack for ice cream,” he bribes in a singsong voice. “My treat.
Come on
, you can get a tan playing football. You play in a swimsuit
all the time
.” He pauses. “Of course with all that oil on, you'll be harder to tackle. Maybe you'll give Phillip a run for his money
. For once
.”

For once?

A challenge, huh?

Shit.

“I want a double cheeseburger, fries, a chocolate shake, AND maybe even a hot fudge sundae. Deal?”

“Pig,” he replies, but shakes his head in agreement.

“Fine, I'll be there in a minute.”

I lay my head back down and try to revive my daydream. Unfortunately it's long gone.

I look at my back. No change yet, but I guess Danny's right. I can play with my suit on.

Play and fill in the tan lines at the same time.

I am so efficient!

So I get up from my comfy spot, walk over to the picnic table, hook my finger thru a belt loop on my favorite cutoffs, pull them off the table, and drag them behind me. I walk over to my fence and fling open the gate. Danny and Phillip are tossing the ball casually to each other in the empty lot next door. The lot has a luscious carpet of grass that Phillip and Danny work hard to keep immaculate, just for this purpose.

I start to walk toward them and then thinking, stop and yell, “Shoes or no shoes?” You have to decide this in the beginning because if you don't have shoes and the other guy does, it can be a very painful day for your toes. If the boys are feeling very serious about their practice, it's shoes.

Most often though, it's no shoes.

I keep standing there, holding my shorts, waiting for an answer.

“Hello?” I say, waving my shorts in their direction.

But the boys are both just standing there staring at me, their mouths agape.

Shit, is one of my boobs hanging out or something? I take a quick look down at myself. No, everything appears to be in order.

What? It's like they can see me, but they can't hear me.

“Shoes?” I yell again, maybe they
didn't
hear me.

“Uh,” says Phillip, looking down at his own feet, like he can't remember if he has them on. “Um, no shoes.”

Phillip gives Danny a sideways glance, and Danny smiles back at him.

What's up with those two? I probably missed some stupid boy joke.

Whatever.

I jog over to them in my bare feet, pull on my shorts and zip them up. “Okay, I'm ready.”

“Uh, new swimsuit, Jay?” Danny asks, with his eyebrows raised at me, half a smirk on his face.

“Yeah. Do you like it? I got it for the Summer Bash next week.”

Danny doesn't answer my question, but asks one of his own. “Your dad seen it yet?”

“Well, no, but he's not going to the party. So do you guys like it? Does it look okay?” I stare at Phillip. “
Phillip
?”

Phillip is still looking at me sort of shocked. What's the deal? Does it look bad?

Phillip starts to open his mouth to say something. At first nothing comes out, but then he says, “I think I like that pink one you have better.”

Jerk!

The pink one he is referring to is practically a granny style one-piece. I give that boy a mad face.

Danny looks at Phillip and shakes his head at him. Then he winks at me and says, “Go long, right, Jay.”

I do, and we play catch for about 30 minutes, running various plays and routes. It's usually fun and a good workout for me.

But the whole time we're playing, Phillip's bikini comment is festering in my brain. I brilliantly intercept a pass, and I nearly scream out loud,
HAHAHAHA, Phillip, you jerk!
But I withheld my comments and gave him a smirky grin instead.

Which apparently didn't bother him in the least because he shrugs his shoulders at me, his body saying,
No big deal.

And that really pisses me off.

So on the next play, as we're running side by side down the field, I carefully stick my foot out with the intention of
accidentally
tripping him.

Only it doesn't quite work as I imagined because my leg gets tangled up with his, and we both go down.

BOOM.

I land on my side with a THUD and literally bounce off the grass.

And it must've knocked the wind out of me because I can't seem to breathe.

I try to take a breath, but before I can, Phillip rolls me over on my back, pins my arms above my head, and sits on me.

At first, I think he's going to tickle me or something, but then my oxygen deficient brain registers his brown eyes flashing black.

Uh, oh. I don't think he's very happy with me.

I painfully suck in a breath of air, just as he leans down close to my face. Warm, minty breath blows on me when he yells, “YOU DID THAT ON PURPOSE!”

“What are you talking about?” I ask, ever so innocently.

Who? ME?

“You're being a shit! I don't know what your problem is, but I won't let you hurt us both. I'll be damned if I'll miss senior year football with a broken leg because you can't play nice.”

“Poor little Phillip. Can't play with the
big
girls?”

“I play
fine
with girls,” Phillip answers, with a smirk of his own.