by Riley Walker
“Hey, Colton,” I say to him. “What are you doing here?”
“Franchesca, I’m surprised to see you! I actually help Joseph teach three days a week.”
He has the cutest blush on his cheeks when he answers me. Just like last night when I saw him, his hair is shaggy, falling into his eyes, and he is sporting that smile again.
“So, does this mean you will be my teacher,” I ask coyly.
“No,” he chuckles, “I’ll help with the demonstrations, mostly.”
I have to admit, I am sort of glad he is here. Until we get to work that is.
I discover that I have two left feet, causing me to teeter when trying to stay in a fighting stance. My jabs are soft and I tend to fall on my butt when doing kicks. Colton is patient with me, trying to provide some extra attention and training. He continues to tell me to be positive and that with practice I will get better. I hope so, because there are no mats on the streets to save me when I fall.
By the time class is over, I am dead on my feet. I have sweat pouring off me, my limbs feel like rubber, and I am pretty sure I smell like a garbage can. When Colton asks Shelby and I if we would like to have dinner with him at a local diner, my new best friend slyly declines, citing homework, that I know doesn’t exist, as an excuse. But since I am trying new things I decide to take Colton up on his offer.
After showering off the stink, I meet Colton at the door and we walk down the street towards the all-night diner. As soon as the doors open I smell heavenly grease. He guides us to a booth in the back, and we start reading the laminated menus. My eyes immediately find the breakfast section and I know what I want. The waitress comes over to take our order and I ask for a cup of hot chocolate, the ultimate omelette with ham, bacon, cheese, hash browns, and a side of toast. Colton looks at me funny and I just shrug. We recently finished a pretty strenuous workout, I deserve all the carbs I want. He turns his attention back to the waitress to order a burger, french fries, and a water.
“So, what did you think of your first MMA class?” Colton asks me.
“I don’t think it’s for me,” I reply.
“Franchesca, it was only one class. You can’t quit after only one class. Give it a real chance.”
I understand what he is saying, but honestly, it’s pretty obvious I have absolutely no coordination. It was like watching a train wreck. Except I was the train in the wreck.
“At least give it a month. That’s only eight classes. If you still hate it and can’t seem to get any of the moves down, then you can quit knowing you really tried.”
The waitress interrupts our conversation when she brings over our food. I take a big bite of my omelette and stop to think about what Colton has said. He is probably right.
I may sound huffy when I reply, “You are completely right. I know you are and I would be disappointed in myself if I didn’t give it a fair chance. Fine. One month, eight classes.”
My response seems to make him happy enough for us to relax around each other and enjoy the rest of our meal.
While I am comfortable around Colton, and I think he likes me, I just don't feel a spark. I don’t feel about him the way I do Edrik. Every time I am near him I get butterflies in my stomach. My gaze seeks him out when he enters the same room as me. Maybe only my Knight will ever hold that spark for me. Or maybe I am broken.
I push the thoughts of Edrik out of my mind as we finish our meal in comfortable silence. Colton and I begin our walk back to campus. Even though I don’t have feelings for him, I do like him and can see us becoming good friends. Determined to get to know him better, I start shooting off questions.
I learn that his Mother is a homemaker and his father an Engineer, which is why he chose that for his major. He is a middle child with an older sister that liked to dress him and his younger brother up in girl clothes when they were little. His sister now has to two little boys and one girl, all of whom have their Uncle Colton wrapped around their fingers. His younger brother is a senior in high school, and will be here at the university next year on a football scholarship. He seems to have the perfect family.
I let out a small sigh, which Colton notices. Of course he would.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Just thinking about my home and family. They can be overbearing and controlling, but I love them and sometimes it’s just hard not to get homesick.”
Colton graciously lets the conversation go, sensing that I am not up to discussing all that tonight. He walks me to the front door of my dorm and leans against the red brick wall.
“Can I see you again? I mean, can I take you out for dinner or just coffee sometime?” he asks, shyly.
“I would really like that,” I tell him.
And I would. Even if I am not feeling a romantic connection, I would still like to be around him. His casual, laid-back personality is a refreshing change. However, I also want to be honest because he deserves to know how I feel and I do not want to lead him on.
“Colton, I really like you. I don’t have any friends besides Shelby and, to be honest, I could really use another. If you are ok with that being the extent of our relationship. I just can't focus on more than that right now.”
He takes a deep breath, straightening himself and squaring his shoulders. “I understand, Franchesca. I do like you. At least what I know of you so far. If being your friend is the way I get to spend time with you, to get to know you better, then I’ll take it.”
He wraps an arm around my shoulder, pulling me in close for a side hug, “Hey, give me your phone.”
I pass him my phone and watch his fingers flying across the screen. I hear a beep that seems to be coming from Colton's pockets.
“I added my number then sent myself a message from your phone. I hope that was ok?”
“That was fine. Thank you for doing that for me.”
“It’s no problem, Franchesca. Sleep tight and call me tomorrow, yeah?”
I nod, giving him a smile that lets him know how grateful I am that he accepted my request for his friendship.
“Night Colton.”
The next morning, Shelby wakes me by bouncing onto my bed. I know she is carrying the nectar of the gods by the strong aroma wafting from the mug in her hands. But it is not a coffee mug I am familiar with.
“Hey, Frannie! I bought you a present.”
I sit up, reaching for the warm goodness and spot the writing on the mug, “Classy, Sassy and a Bit Smart Assy.” This is so Shelby.
“I absolutely love it,” I say after realizing the cup is my gift. She is so thoughtful.
“I’m tired of watching you drink out of those styrofoam cups while I drink out of my penguin mug.”
After a moment, which I am pretty sure she only gave me because my mouth is full of coffee, she blurts, “So spill it! Are you and Colton an item now?”
I take a deep breath, “No. We agreed to just be friends. Last night I realized I am just not ready to date anyone right now.”
“I’m so sorry Frannie.”
“That’s not the worse part. There was another guy.
She shakes her head in understanding. She then tells me to get my lazy butt out of bed because it’s almost time for class.
I am so lucky to have found her.
6
The Ugly Duck
My weeks start flowing into one another. My days are filled with classes and coffee breaks, my nights with homework, MMA and our weekly dinner dates. Shelby, Colton, and I are pretty much inseparable now.
I keep my promise and stay with the self-defense class for a solid month. Surprisingly, I begin to enjoy it as I become more flexible and master the different moves. Jiu-jitsu is my favorite until we add in kickboxing, where I am the queen of the mat! If only Edrik were here to see me now.
Colton starts training with me on the weekends, and in three short months I am eligible for a new belt. Tonight I have officially received it, a crisp white belt with a black center stripe. Afterwards, our gang is having our weekl
y date at the diner.
“Frannie, I’m so proud of you! You went from looking like a newborn giraffe to a kick-ass gazelle. You’ll be teaching that class with Joseph before too long,” Shelby shouts as we walk back towards our favorite booth. I should be hurt by her description of my initial performance but I can't. It really must have been an awful thing to witness.
After dinner, Colton walks us to a local karaoke bar, The Ugly Duck, when Shelby notices a hawk perched in a nearby tree.
“Hey, Frannie, look at that bird. It’s huge!”
I look up, just in time to see it swooping down towards us. It is brown with a massive wingspan, the tips of which are so black they look like they have been dipped in tar. Colton has thrown himself to the ground, watching as it circles back around, then soars away. I’m snort-giggling as he stands back up and Shelby is laughing uncontrollably.
“Colton? Were you scared of the bird?”
“Did you see the size of those talons? Plus, he headed straight for me,” Colton semi-whines.
Still laughing, Shelby says, “Too bad it didn’t poop on your head.” In response, he just gives us the stink eye before he continues to walk towards the bar
At The Ugly Duck, we find a small, round table to park ourselves at. From what Shelby told me, this is a typical college bar with a large, walnut serving station that takes up the entire back of the room. Tables line the side walls and there is a dance floor in the center with a platform that houses a DJ booth and several microphone stands in front of a small TV. Music is blaring and the dance floor is packed with students jumping around. Apparently the theme for the night is 1980’s Hair Bands. This is the first time I have heard such music and I am instantly hooked.
I lean over to Shelby and yell, “What is the name of this song? I love it!”
“‘Cherry Pie’ by Warrant.”
Huh. I need to remember that so I can find and listen to it again.
“Let’s do a song!” she says.
“Um... I don’t really know any of these songs, Shelby.”
“It’ll be fine, that’s what the monitors are for. We pick a song and they show us the words. It’s so easy!”
I reluctantly agree. She rushes to the DJ booth to sign us up with a song she’s chosen that I don’t know. This will not be good.
“Here, you look like you could use this,” Colton pushes over a glass that contains a familiar-looking bubbly amber liquid.
“We can’t drink here, Colton! Neither of us are legal.”
“You and Shelby may not be, but I am,” Colton gives me a wink and points back at the glass.
“What is it?”
“Beer. Drink up.” I take a sip and spit it out. It is the same foulness from that frat party, and still the worst thing I have ever tasted. I tell Colton this.
He just shakes his head and laughingly says, “I’ll be right back.”
I watch as he walks up to the bar and leans over, talking to the guy behind the counter. He comes back to me with two red drinks in his hands.
“Here, try this.”
I take a tentative sip and the most wonderful, fruity flavor flows down my throat.
“What is this? It’s amazing!”
He full out laughs at me now. He does that a lot.
“It’s a Cape Cod. It’s vodka and cranberry juice. Pretty good, huh?”
“Oh yes. Very, very good.”
I finish my drink and Colton slides the second my way. This one is even better than the first. I could get used to these! I suck down the last of my second drink before allowing Shelby to grab my hand and drag me up front towards the stage.
“We are singing ‘We’re Not Gonna Take It.’ All you’ve got to do is read the monitor and follow my lead. It’s an easy song that repeats a lot.”
I shake my head, trying to clear the fuzziness from downing the last of that second drink. It was so tasty, but I think drinking them so fast was probably a big mistake.
Walking onto the stage, we each grasp a microphone in our hands. I feel the nerves starting to settle in and Shelby must notice because she takes my hand, squeezing hard. When the music starts, she starts swaying and singing, immediately getting into the song. I listen to her and follow the words on the monitor. By the time the chorus starts, I am belting out the words right along with her. She is totally right, this is a blast! We stay for a few more hours, singing song after song and dancing with the rest of the crowd. It is an epic night and I am already planning our next trip back.
I have decided that hair bands are my absolute favorite music and need to study it so I know as many songs as possible. Aerosmith, CandleBox, and Journey... where have they been all my life?
We make The Ugly Duck a weekly habit after that first night, making up excuses to drop in and celebrate any- and everything. End of semesters, birthdays, Fridays, it does not matter. We are there so much, we get to be on a first name basis with all the regulars. I celebrated my first birthday in the Earth Realm here. Shelby and Colton gave me a new pink iPod full of my favorite Hair Band music. The iPod is my favorite possession and I will treasure it always.
7
Evil Pink Wand
Shelby and I are now Sophomores but no longer share the same schedule. Unfortunately, she had to enroll in a night class for marketing. The morning class she wanted was full and it’s only one day a week but still, I am utterly bored. I text Colton asking if he would like to meet up for dinner. Given how close we all are, I’ve become accustomed to having someone around all the time and now I hate eating alone. Good thing he agrees to meet me!
After showering and blow drying my hair, I decide to try to straighten it on my own for the first time. How hard can it be? Shelby makes wielding the pink wand seem so easy. I turn on the device to let it warm up while I get dressed. Thanks to my persistence with the MMA classes, I have lost every ounce of baby fat and I now rock the skinny jeans. Tonight I pair them with a cute pink tee and of course, a matching pair of trusty Chucks. Satisfied with the outfit, I grab the pink wand and begin to tackle my frizzy hair.
I section my hair off just like Shelby has done in the past and start a first section by dragging the wand from top to bottom. Unfortunately, it stays frizzy. I put the same section of hair in the wand and once again drag it from top to bottom, this time with an added wrist-roll and holding the wand for a few minutes at the bottom of my hair. This is something my bestie does to give a cute little flip on the ends. I am about to release my hair when something outside catches my attention.
The hawk I saw that first night we went to The Ugly Duck is perched on a branch right outside my window. I swear that damn thing is following me. I mean, I have definitely seen it more than once the past few months. It has to be the same one because the wings are so distinguishable. Watching the hawk, I completely forget what I am doing until the smell of burning hair hits me.
I realize I am still holding the heated stick to my hair. Crap on a cracker! That is probably not good but I am too afraid to look in the mirror. When I hear a knock on the dorm door, I jump up and yank it open.
Colton walks past me, his nose wrinkling in an expression of disgust, “What is that smell?”
I point and my head, then the evil pink wand.
“Oh, Franchesca, did you burn your hair?”
I take a peek in my mirror. Burn. My. Hair? Is he serious? I have completely melted off a section and it is hideous.
I point dramatically and screech, “That evil contraption just melted my hair! There is no way I am going to dinner looking like this!”
Colton smirks at me, “It’ll be fine. We’ll just find a hairdresser and you can get a quick trim.”
This will be another new experience. Gretchen always used to cut my hair, but I am not about to tell him that. I throw my purse over my shoulder, grab his hand, and head out the door. Colton directs me to a local salon, Curl Up and Dye. How appropriate. That is exactly what I want to do right now. I cannot believe I burnt off my hair. Burnt it off. I want to
cry.
Inside, a bottle-blonde with her hair teased to high-heaven approaches us.
“Hey y’all! My name is Trudy. What can I do you for?”
My jaw is on the floor and I am just standing there speechless, taking in this tiny woman with the very large hair who obviously is blind because she doesn't notice this chunk of burnt hair on my head. Colton notices my hesitation and comes to my rescue, explaining what happened.
Trudy turns pitying eyes to me and says, “Don’t you worry, dollface! Mama Trudy’s gonna fix ya right up,” as she drags me over to a shampoo bowl.
An hour later I am shampooed, cut, styled, and almost as good as new. I am mourning the six inches she had to cut off, but Colton assures me the change is barely noticeable. We leave the salon and head to the diner. With the unexpected hair mishap, Shelby is now able to meet us for dinner.
Plopping down in the booth, she takes one glance in my direction and exclaims, “Holy hell, what happened to your hair!?”
I give Colton the stink eye, “Barely noticeable, huh?”
“I like it. Of course, you could wear a sack and I would still think you looked good.”
Shelby’s shaking her head at me, “Barely noticeable? Barely noticeable? Good gracious, half of it’s gone!”
I turn in the booth, pointing my finger at her.
“I blame you. If you hadn’t gotten me addicted to, what will forevermore be referred to as “the evil pink wand,” my hair would still be halfway down my back.”
Shelby grabs my finger and smirks at me, “Don’t point that finger at me, missy. I have showed you a million times how to use the thing. It’s not my fault you’re accident prone.”