by Jillian Dodd
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 lie 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 strings are made from the star fabric. It is really very cute.
I head out to the back yard, 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 were 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 nods 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, because 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.”
Dann
y 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 thirty 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 withhold 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.
A little too fine lately, if you ask me.
He may be getting too cute and confident for his own good.
He pushes my hands into the ground. “I’m serious. No more cheap shots.”
“You can’t tell me what to do, Phillip.”
“Maybe not, but I’ll tell your dad you’ve been a poor sport.”
Shit. He’s got me on that.
“Fine. Get off me.”
Phillip stays where he is and says in his calmer, sweeter voice. “What are you so pissed about anyway? Are you mad at Danny?”
Is he serious? I mean is he really that clueless? How could he possibly not know what has me so upset? And, really, why do I care what he thinks anyway? He’s just a big, fat dork who dates clueless girls. Girls who wouldn’t know a tight spiral pass if it hit them in the uh, well, you know.
“Hey! You guys gonna get a room, or do you wanna play some football?” Danny yells from across the yard.
Danny. Wow. I had almost forgotten he was here.
But I’m glad because his comment jerks me out of my feeling-sorry-for-myself mood, and my cockiness comes rushing back. I raise an eyebrow at Phillip and then let my eyes wander down the length of his body.
I mean, he is on top of me.
He gives me the evil eye, gets up, and throws the ball back to Danny. “I’ve had enough,” he says.
I hop up and follow Phillip to where Danny’s standing.
All of a sudden my legs feel itchy.
Crap.
A bunch of loose grass clippings have stuck to the oil on my legs. Not particularly attractive, I think, as I try to brush them off.
Danny, trying to ease the unusual tension between Phillip and me, laughs and points at me. He calls me the Grass Monster or something equally juvenile and stupid.
Phillip finally laughs too and then says, “I’m starving!”
“Yeah, me too. Let’s go,” Danny agrees. He bends down, grabs his T-shirt off the grass, and slides his feet into a pair of flip flops.
“I’ve gotta run home and grab a shirt and some shoes,” Phillip tells us.
I start to head to my house to grab a shirt too.
Danny responds to Phillip by saying, “Jay’s driving that hot new Mustang of hers.” Then he runs up behind me, snaps me on the butt with his T-shirt, and follows me home.
“What was that all about?”
“Oh, he was just pissed because he thought I tripped him on purpose.”
Danny looks at me like a human lie detector. “Did you?”
I chuckle. “Maybe . . .”
I shove my shoulder into his and say, “So, I know what Phillip thinks of the bikini, but you never gave me a straight answer. So do you like it? Come on, Danny, I value your opinion, and I really don’t want to wear it to the party if it looks stupid on me.”
Danny thinks for a moment, like he’s not sure what to say.
I mean, come on!
Any other girl in a bikini and Danny would be giving me much more information about the bikini than I would ever want to know. You’d think he’d at least be able to answer one simple question about my bikini.
Finally, Danny turns to me and says blandly, rolling his eyes, “Jake will love it.”
Yay!
“But you better just have water at the Shack, or you might outgrow it before the party.”
I flash angry eyes at him, but I can tell by his smirk that he’s just teasing me.
“Cheapskate. You’re just trying to get out of buying me lunch.”
“Mom,” I yell, as I am bounding down the stairs to the kitchen. “Can you tie these strings in tight double knots for me?” I’m holding my bikini top up to my chest. The straps are trailing behind me.
It’s the day of the Summer River Bash, and I’m running late, as usual. Jake will be here any minute, and I am so not ready.
Mom is standing at the kitchen sink. Dad is sitting at the table, drinking a cup of coffee and reading the sports section.
He glances up and quickly reverts to the paper. Then his head comes flying back up. He looks at Mom and then at me and says, “You’re not wearing that, are you, Jadyn?”
Duh. I just put it on for fun and am having Mom tie it for no reason.
But I don’t have time for any hassle right now. I’m late enough as it is.
So I say in my sweet, polite voice, “Yes, a swimsuit is required attire for a beach party.”
I give him my I’m your little angel and can do no wrong look, as I slide over with my back towards Mom, holding my top against my chest with one hand and my hair up with the other.
“Double knots, please,” I say quietly to her.
I don’t want it coming undone at an inopportune time.
Dad says to Mom in an edgy tone, “Don’t you think that swimsuit is a little skimpy, Ronny?” My Mom’s real name is Veronica.
Veronica James Reynolds.
James was my great-great grandma’s maiden name. All first-born girls since my great grandma have had James as their middle name, thus my weird middle name. And evidently giving your daughter a boy’s name for a nickname also runs in the family. I seriously didn’t even know my name was Jadyn until I went to kindergarten. Daddy always calls me Angel and everyone else has always called me JJ.
I’m only Jadyn when I’m in big trouble.
Crap. I know what’s coming next.
I don’t let Mom
answer Dad’s question. I jump into the conversation by saying, “Mom helped me pick it out, Dad. She thinks it’s cute.”
“Well it may be cute, but I don’t think it is particularly appropriate for someone your age,” he declares, like he is the Ruler of the Free World.
Unfortunately, of my Free, I think not, World.
“Dad. Come on. I’m seventeen, besides Mom said I should wear . . .” I glance at Mom. She is clearly giving me the shut up signal, crossing her hand in front of her neck and bugging her eyes out. That or she is threatening to kill me.
Uh. Okay, I get it, I think. So I finish, “. . . uh, I should wear this suit for sunning purposes only.” I nod.
Which I will be doing at the lake.
All day and maybe even into the night.
“Besides, I have a tank top and board shorts that I will wear over it to swim in.”
“Well, you can wear them to sun in at the lake, too, or you’re not wearing it at all. I think it should only be worn for sunning in the back yard.” Then he thinks about it, squints his eyes at me and adds, “And definitely no playing football in that thing.”
Ah, yeah. Well, it’s a little late for that.
I’ve got to get out of here!
Mom saves the day by saying, “Maybe you should come swimsuit shopping with me and JJ this week, Paul. You can help us pick out something you feel would be appropriate.” She gives Dad a look of defiance, one eyebrow raised in challenge and her arms crossed in front of her chest.
She’s got him so beat.
He’d never go shopping with us in a million years. He still says he is allergic, because he equates shopping with torture.
“Uh,” he backtracks, “why don’t you let me see it with the shorts. It’ll probably be okay that way.”
Yeah, I’m sure it will.
After promising to keep the shorts on and finally getting his approval, I fly back up the stairs.
When Jake arrives, I rush out of the house, so he won’t have a chance to talk to my Dad.
Needless to say, I didn’t wear the shorts at the river, and Jake liked the suit just fine.
Later in the week, I have what starts out as a great dream. I’m in the empty lot playing catch with Phillip and Danny. We’re having so much fun because Danny and I don’t fight about anything.
