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Malia-Tarni
“Do you like it?” Summer asks hopefully over the sound of Kesha’s ‘Tik Tok’ pounding from my stereo. Not my choice of music, but catchy nonetheless. Summer declared that as she’s the artist tonight, she gets to control the music. I didn’t argue with her. I never do.
She gives me a nervous grin in the mirror over the top of my head, but I can tell she’s secretly smug. After badgering me to dye my hair for years, I finally caved and let her win, and she knows I look good. I thought she was going to put some highlights in or something, not spend hours turning it even lighter so that she could then turn it into a bright, vibrant rainbow.
Well, okay, maybe it’s not a rainbow rainbow because it’s not seven different colours, but I do now resemble a mermaid. A seductive mermaid, with my makeup also done dramatically by Summer.
Hence the sort of speechlessness now. I don’t look like me. But I don’t think that’s necessarily a bad thing. I continue to stare at myself in the mirror, entranced by my new look.
My roots are a bright teal, fading to electric blue and purple, with pink ends. I love it. It looks badass, makes me feel stronger. Like I’m giving a giant middle finger to my mother who would never let me cut or dye it.
“Come on, MT. It’s party time.”
“I mean, isn’t it kinda late? My makeover took longer than expected, so it’s probably not worth bothering now. I bet it’s winding down.” I eye my bed hopefully.
No chance.
“It’s not even eleven. We’ll still be classed as early!” Summer cries. I grumble as she pulls on her stilettos, but quiet when she tosses a leather jacket at me.
“I like this.”
“Keep it,” she says dismissively. “And get your ass to the party.”
I scowl at her, but I’m definitely keeping the jacket. I may love the jacket, and the hair, but the outfit makes me squirm. It’s so…short. And fitted. And not like anything I would ever wear in a million years.
Summer links her arm through mine and pulls me out of our shared dorm room. We join the queue of students waiting to catch the shuttle bus into town, and I can’t help but notice how overdressed everyone seems to be for a beach party. Although, judging by the skimpy garments draped over the girls surrounding me, I should probably use the term underdressed. There’s a bubble of excited chatter and I just know that I’m surrounded by first years. I can’t imagine second or third years being this excited by a party.
The ride to the bay doesn’t take long – thankfully because the chatter is unbearable – and the bus drops us off right beside Descanso Beach Club where Summer tells me the party’s taking place.
“Club? I thought you were taking me to a beach party?” I ask Summer, frowning.
“It is. The club owns the beach, it’s private. But someone hired it for tonight’s event.”
“Whoa. Sounds posh.”
“You’re going to love it,” she assures me.
I’m sceptical, but follow her through the club to the cabana-lined golden sands. Tiki torches and fairy lights decorate the space, giving it a calming vibe. She’s right…I do like it. Maybe I should get some fairy lights for my room. Summer was moaning at me because I was ‘jammy’ – Summer speak for lucky – enough to snag one of the few single dorms available to freshmen, and hasn’t made the most of it by putting my ‘stamp’ on it. There was nothing lucky about it; I knew she would want space from me, but that I couldn’t share with a stranger, and so I had my parents pull a few strings. For once, they were more than happy to accommodate me, because it served their ultimate end goal of getting rid of me.
I don’t know how to decorate the room so it’s completely bare. I guess the only decoration will be my board which I’ve hung the mount onto the wall for because I don’t trust the campus security to look after my baby alongside the other riff-raff sub-par boards when it arrives.
Loud noise brings me back to the beach, and as I look out past the cabanas, the feelings of calm and relaxation leave me.
The sand is dotted with pink and lilac beanbags, pink parasols, and low white drinks tables. All around people are lounging about, chatting, or dancing in small groups. Further down the beach is a massive bonfire that looks appealing. Or it would, if there wasn’t a massive group of guys messing around beside it.
“Wanna join me in the sea?” Summer asks.
I follow her gaze and my jaw drops. The giant inflatable obstacle course floating on the water is unicorn and rainbow themed, with a massive pink slide at the end.
“Okay, I’ll admit that looks fun. But one, I didn’t bring my costume, and two, you definitely can’t do it in those shoes.”
Summer laughs as we both look down at her stilettos. Who wears stilettos to a beach party? No-one it would seem, as just about every female I can see has slipped their shoes off and is either dangling them from their hand, or has discarded them on the sand.
I look down at my trusty purple metallic DMs. They’re chunky and equally as impractical for the beach as heels, but I feel like I made the better choice.
“One, I can remove my shoes, and two, you don’t need a costume. Let’s go!”
Summer grabs my hand and pulls me across the sand, and I protest with every step.
