The other day, Haskell and I were celebrating our ten-day anniversary at FroYo a GoGo, the local frozen yogurt place, officially making us the ninth longest-lasting couple at school—and soon to be eighth. (That’s because Aidan and I currently hold the #2 spot, but I’m ready to cut him loose.) Anyway, as I was enjoying the strawberry goodness in my yogurt cup, I noticed a blonde girl in head-to-toe pink, staring at me from outside.
“What is her deal?” I asked Haskell, pointing in blondie’s direction. When she saw me point at her, little pink princess started to head over to our table. “We have incoming!” I whispered to Haskell, prepping him for her approach.
“Hi Lennox. Who is this boy you are enjoying low-fat dairy treats with?” She inquired. And then it hit me like a toppling pyramid of cheerleaders—that voice, that inability to communicate within the boundaries of teenage social norms—underneath a pound of makeup and that mane of hair extensions was Hester, my socially awkward new-girl pet project.
“Hester!?! What happened to you? Where are your black, baggy clothes and your unhealthy paleness?”
"I’ve been taking notes, Lennox,” Hester said. And just like that, the goth-y girl with the unhealthy walnut obsession was no more.
“I’m Haskell, Lennox’s boyfriend,” Haskell announced a little too eagerly.
“Oh, really?” Hester inquired, twisting her synthetic hair between her fake-tan fingers.
“We were just leaving,” I said, grabbing Haskell and making a beeline for the door.