Work Hard, and Play Even Harder

It was April, Spring was sprouting, you could smell the crisp fresh air around you. I was in about the Eighth Grade at the time. A mature looking girl for my age, long, brown, silky hair, brown eyes with sharp, and slick black glasses rimmed around them. I attended a Private School back then, with my very best friend. We would strut around our school campus in our white polo shirts, along with our green, red, white, and navy color pleated skirts. Just to top it off. This was our outfit, every single day. Yes, we got tired of it. But hey what can you do? Our shoes had to be a certain color too. Then there was our hair, we even had rules for that yes, I know, wild right? Hair rules were to keep it pulled back and out of your face using a solid school uniform color only hair tie and or headband of some sort.

It was nearing the afternoon, when my best friend Jennifer, whose hair was long silvery yellow and her eyes almost Sapphire mixed with a bit of the sky the sky, had brought up our sleepover plans that we had talked about all week. It was Friday night. Had I forgotten? TGIF! The bell rang before we knew it. Whoosh, went the swarm of school kids tripping over each other, on their way out of the classroom. The Teacher with all the patience within tries to finish her sentence, kindly reminding the students of assignments that will be due over the weekend. They have all vanished by the time she gets it out. School was out for the day. I know I was ready and already sprinting towards the parking lot to go home.

Enough of this boring classroom stuff. Let’s get back to my story. It was now the afternoon and my mom picked up both my friend Jennifer and I in her freshly washed, Silver, Honda Accord. "Get in let’s go, are you ready for a fun night, sleepovers are the best!” She says with a smile on her face. We happily hopped in the car already planning our night. We had decided that we wanted to go out and get some yummy Chile Verde Burritos with flour tortillas. After this we would proceed with an evening walk, while listening to music and venting. Then it was back to my house for Ice Cream (or so I was hoping) and a Horror movie.

Before dinner my mom had gone home to change out of her work clothes to be comfortable. Dinner ended up being so mouthwatering once we got to eat. Chile Verde is my absolute favorite. Just for the record. Boy, I could not wait to get back to my house. As we pulled into the garage, we could hear my Chihuahua Olivia, yapping in the house, trying to greet her people. You know how little dogs can be. We walked into the house and set our school bags down on the kitchen table. We were about to party hard and stay up all night. Nothing could stop us now. We got out our music and started singing karaoke, dancing, and talking about boys. You know, the usual girl stuff.

Now that we were not at school, we could finally slip off our tacky school uniforms and feel like ourselves. Which was the best feeling honestly. I don’t see why we did not change our clothes before dinner. Us girls were always embarrassed to be seen in our uniform in public. What can I say? If you went to a private school, you more than likely understand this feeling. We put on whatever shoes were closest to us at the time. Our feet were the same size so we just grabbed a pair and went out into the fresh now evening air for our nice walk.

The sun was slowly going down, and it was cooling off quite a bit. We were now halfway around the block. Skipping, as our loud speaker blasted music through the street. That is until we were Pretending to be Ballerinas with mad jumping skills. We acted it out a bit sarcastically, I would say. It went from a skip, to a jump, to the splits in midair. Wow. I came down on my ankle hard. But such a comic way of me to do so. Oh, what a view. I had also just looked down and realized I had put on the wrong walking shoes for sure. I was clearly not thinking through my excitement. I was in flip flops, my one ankle was hurt, and my flip flop was bent with it. I was now stuck in the middle of the street after doing crazy Ballet in front of all my neighbors.

If I had seen us I would have laughed too as I watched the theatric performance. Seeing these two girls thinking they are Ballerinas, jumping like wild monkeys, listening to Rock’ N Roll. Such an Oddball site to see. Jennifer tried in that moment to hold back her laughter, from seeing my clumsy dance routine. It was funny but I could not walk.

Jennifer had to go grab a close by neighbor to help carry me down the street and back home. I felt like a Queen. My arms were around each friends' shoulders, and their arms one under each of my legs. I accepted the stares. I mean, the only thing missing was our Tutu's and a camera for our scrap book and the future laughs. I came home with my ankle fractured and black bruising and swelling consumed my whole foot. My mom handed me my running shoes as soon as I came through the door looking very confused. “What on Earth were you doing?” my mother said smirking because she knows I clumsy as can be by birth.

Moral of the story is to never give a full performance while walking long distances in flip flops. You yourself may end up flipping and flopping, which like this story could be extremely funny to people watching the show.

We have always been two very, super goofy girls. Looking back at it now, I laugh. On the night of the sleepover. Once we finally sat down for our Horror movie night that we were still determined to accomplish. Both of us girls started dozing off to sleep not even thirty minutes into the movie anyways, my brain still going millions of miles an hour while falling asleep. I hear a scream of horror come from the screen. I like horror movies though so I am not terrified or anything but, my eyes shoot open while I whisper to Jennifer randomly, “Where in the world do you think my other flip flop is?” she just laughed. I had apparently left on the street as a remembrance of that day. The neighborhood will never forget. The funny best friends, that know what funs really about. Coming from a Private school we definitely learned how to work hard, but also to play even harder, bloopers included.