Freedom

[JacobAllTradez]

Life can be a fickle mistress.

Some days, it will be as gentle as a breeze on the open field, whisking you into a meadow filled to the brim with flowers of all kinds, with not a cloud in the sky. Other days, it can slam you onto the ground, pounding you into reckless abandon with drops of rain, rattling your eardrums with ferocious thunder, and piercing your eyes with blinding light. There are days with a mixture of both, calm and frantic with highs and lows in every corner, embracing the unpredictability of life. And then, there are those days when nothing of the sort occurs, you can't put your finger on it, but for whatever reason, everything feels dull, boring, and monotonous.

Unfortunately for Soledad, this was one of those days.

As sunlight peered from the window, the warm-skinned girl stared at the gray ceiling, letting out a long, unenthused sigh, her hands clasped together as she engaged in a mental debate. Fall asleep and hope for some form of excitement later, or keep staring at the ceiling to find your own form of fun? With neither option sounding enthralling, Soledad let out of another long sigh, this one more desperate than the last.

"This sucks..." She muttered.

Soledad shifted her body weight towards the left, arms crossed as she furrowed her brow, slowly convincing herself that it didn't have to be like this. Sure, it was the weekend, sure, she wasn't going to see any of her CR friends for a couple of days, but did today have to be some sort of drab, bleak memento? She continued to ponder her next move, this thought permeating through her mind like a slug aimlessly moving about. Her eyes flickered toward her TV, a large rectangular being that hosted her favorite shows. None of which have new episodes at the time. She glanced towards her desk, spotting her sketchbook, all filled to the brim with papers undrawn by pencil or pen. But how can you draw something when you have nothing to draw? Soledad let out a grunt, one indicating her frustration. For such a dismal day as this, it seemed as if this was hopeless.

That was when her eyes shifted toward her phone, also sitting on top of her desk, alone in the world as she was, except without a care in the world. How could it, after all, it was an inanimate object. Today, however, it was something else. A potential cure for her boredom. Soledad grabbed onto her phone, examining the various apps she could play around with when a thought came to her mind. What would be the dumbest thing she could think of doing? That's when she asked an important question, one that changed fabric of her day, out loud.

"Don't cheerleaders dance by themselves during their spare time?"

Soledad had heard it said by one of her cheer mares that, whenever they’re not in school, a few of the more, ahem, developed girls, liked to turn on some pop music and groove to their heart’s content. Something about self-love or whatever, it was always hard to keep track of what others put value on.

Still, it wasn’t as if Soledad hadn’t thought about attempting her own moves. After all, dance to her was like roller skating, except without the skates. Soledad couldn’t help but grin as she sprung to her feet, convinced by this newfangled idea.

There was just one problem. What do you dance to? Pop? Rock? Anime music? Soledad scrolled through the many different options, each one more enticing than the last, before finally taking pause when she saw Nelly Furtado’s name.

“Huh,” Soledad mumbled. “Now that is a singer I haven’t heard in a while.”

Regardless, Say it Right, the one song Soledad actually knew of the once pop singer felt like a nice enough bop in cheer folklore. Smooth and seductive, Soledad couldn’t help but let out a chuckle at the idea of her seducing someone based on looks alone.

The ironic thing, in her mind at least, was that Soledad would likely get away with it. She had been caught twirling her fingers in her hair before, a bitten lip or two in the past, but never anything serious, always teasing unfortunate fools into thinking she was serious.

And then, she’d throw a water balloon at them and laugh her ass off.

Today, however, there was no one around to con or joke with, Soledad was a woman on her own, and as such, she was taking this with a surprising amount of seriousness. Or was it the desperation to find something, anything, to do that prevalent?

Still, what’s done was done in Soledad’s eyes, and as she sat the phone on the bed, Soledad played a memorization game with her mind. How did most cheerleaders start these dances?

And then it hit her, there was one cheerleader on the troupe, long blonde hair, often wore skirts, was on dance team who, when she filmed herself dancing, often started with a pose. And so, that’s what she’d emulate, placing a hand in her hip, extending the other into the sky as she locked her head toward the floor, the lavender rug being her defacto audience.

“Fuck, this is so weird.” Soledad thought to herself as the song proper began to start.

From there, it was a guessing game as to what other girls did to make themselves appealing. Hip-shaking? Perhaps. People always did enjoy ass for some reason. Hands behind head? Apparently that was alluring or something. Locked legs, all so the hips could sway about. Yet as Nelly’s sultry voice entered the picture, Soledad could only think of one thing.

“This is stupid.”

Almost as if someone had played an awful prank on her. Except, this time around, it was Soledad herself.

Soledad’s grin had become ever more forced as she grappled with the realization that this whole routine was spitting on the very thing she became. Aggressively so. Soledad was a free spirit who did her own thing. When other girls went shopping at malls or stores, Soledad was at the skating rink doing ollies. They liked romantic dramedies, she liked anime. They wore short skirts, she wore T-Shirts.

“Wait, fuck, wrong song.” Soledad thought, her train of thought dead in its tracks. In spite of her mental debate, the song still chugged along, not even towards the chorus. It was at that moment Soledad reached a decision. Gone was the excessive hip sway, the provocative gestures, the bitten lip, all of it. Now, Soledad was going to dance to this god-forsaken song the way she knew best.

Really really badly.

Soledad would be the first to admit, she was a lousy dancer. Great on her feet, especially on roller skates, but if you asked her to mambo or waltz, she’d ask if you came from another planet. But in truth, the majority of her dance moves consisted of flailing arms and clumsy looking steps. Yet, there was now a genuine smile on Soledad’s face, beaming through the room like a ray of light. It wasn’t pretty by any means, but now, Soledad felt free. Free to be herself, and free to do what she thought was right.

Soledad jumped in the air, the strands of hair falling toward her face as she span about in her room, convinced that this moment would never end. Of course, all things must at some point, Soledad’s moment of triumph being no exception. That came when her legs got tied up, both in opposite directions. With the balance flow lost, Soledad tripped over herself and fell onto the floor with a thud, landing face first onto the lavender rug.

After laying on the rug for a good few seconds, Soledad poked her face up from the rug and pulled herself onto a seated position. Her hands clutching onto her stomach, Soledad’s lips curled into a smile and she broke into a laugh, nodding her head back and forth as the humor became apparent. Popular girls never had to deal with tumbles or collapses to the ground. Nor did they hop about like a rabies infested bunny.

But Soledad never cared about popular. She was free, and that was more than enough for her.