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?Kat, what are you doing?? I ask, staring at her. She's sitting on the picnic blanket I had set up, the sun shining off of her blonde pixie cut. I distantly note how content she looks, in her bright pink cat hoodie and black yoga pants just soaking up the sun. However, the item in her hands distracts me.
?What, this?? She asks good-naturedly, holding up the offending object. ?It's called sewing, Jaz.? She goes back to the needle and thread in her hand, pulling the needle in and out of some green fabric in her lap.
?That's not sewing,? I say, stretching my legs so that my white socks touch Kat's knees. ?Sewing is done with a machine. I've seen my mom do it.? I lean back and place my hands just outside of the picnic blanket rectangle, and I feel the soft grass sneak between my fingers. It really is a nice day, there's a slight breeze that rustles the tree leaves and keeps the sun from being too overbearing I almost want to close my eyes and bask in the rare show of good weather, but I'm still transfixed by Kat's slender fingers pulling the needle in and out of the fabric. I realize she's actually ?sewing? two pieces of the same size and shape together.
Kat laughs at my statement, the sound like the wind chimes outside of my bedroom window. ?Well, I'm hand sewing. It's easier for smaller projects.? She says, staring at her green fabric. She sticks the needle in and doesn't pull it back out. ?Look, I'm sewing a frog!? She says, all smiles as she holds up the work in progress. Now that I know what it's supposed to be, I can clearly see the shape of the legs and the bulge for the head. Her green eyes stare at me, looking for a response.
?Oh, that's cool.? I say, sitting up and scooting closer to her. She holds it out for me to hold, and gently I take it from her. The fabric is soft, and I can see where she's been sewing. The edges are rough from being cut, but the hand sewn lines create a strong and smooth border. ?It's looking really good so far,? I tell her, and Kat beams. I chuckle slightly and hand the frog back to her. ?I could never make something like that. My fingers are too clunky.?
Kat gives an offended gasp, clutching at her heart dramatically. ?Never say never!? She cries, scooting even closer to me. We're now flush up against each other, my taller frame looming over the crafty girl. She looks at me, eyes squinting and judging something. ?Eh, this is easier.? She says, shrugging. The next thing I know I have a lap full of Kat as she plops herself snuggly in between my legs. My chin could rest on her head, but I can hardly see through the curtain of hair dislodged from my messy bun.
I pull the long brown strands back as Kat continues to make herself comfortable. I'm a little confused, but I'm sort of used to Kat's antics by now. After having been friends for 10 years, nothing can surprise you. Well, except for hand sewing apparently.
?Alright,? Kat says, finally settled. ?Give me your hands.? I roll my eyes, but I comply. She gently but swiftly takes them both, and I'm forced to put my chin on her head as she pulls me forward. She places my right hand on her leg and grabs the needle.
?First off, be careful This needle is really sharp.? She says seriously. She holds up the needle I stare at it for a few seconds, processing. Is she really trying to teach me how to sew?
?Hey Kat,? I say nervously, pulling away. My left hand is still trapped, though, so I don't get very far. ?I, I um? I don't think this is a good idea. Remember? Clunky fingers? I'll end up ruining your project.? I say, trying to pull away again.
?No, it's fine. You won't ruin it.? She responds calmy. ?That's another reason I like hand sewing, it's very forgiving.? She takes my right hand and wraps my forefinger and thumb around the dull end of the needle. ?Anyway Jaz,? she says, ?I'm right here. I won't let anything go wrong.? I let my shoulders relax and I try to confidently hold the needle. Kat's right, of course. There's no real reason to be nervous.
I watch as Kat guides my hands, having my left hand line up the fabric and hold it still while she has my right hand put the needle through. ?So you need to keep the fabric lined up. Usually I'd pin it, but I think the second piece of fabric is a little smaller. I'm just trying to keep it together as much as I can.? Kat begins explaining. I watch her help me straighten out the thread as it pulls through, keeping it from tangling or knotting.
?It's really easy, you just need to pull it through.? She says. It's a very calming task, I soon realize as the breeze and the repetition of my hands starts to relax me. It becomes a rhythm: Kat and I just pull the needle through both layers from the top, from the bottom, and move the fabric. Over and over again as the birds are singing and the trees are swaying.
I don't even realize when Kat pulls her hands away and suddenly I'm hand sewing all by myself. Kat relaxes back into me, and soon she starts to hum. It's a lovely little tune that harmonizes with the songs of the birds around us. I'm warm, I'm happy, and I'm with my best friend who's teaching me how to sew.
I smile.
After a while, the frog is almost finished. I'm surprised, how long have we been sitting here? I stick the needle through the fabric to hold it, like I saw Kat do earlier. I start to move and notice that Kat's asleep. I chuckle and gently shake her shoulder. Her eyes flutter open, green meeting my blue.
?What do I do next?? I ask her, holding up the frog so she can see. Her face lights up and she jumps off of my lap, almost smacking me upside the chin with her head.
?Oh wow, Jaz! That's awesome!? She says, standing with the frog she had excitedly snatched from me in her hands. She turns to me with a smug look on her face, putting her hands on her hips. ?And you said you wouldn't be able to do it.? She says proudly.
I shrug and grin, ?I had a great and supportive teacher, it would've been harder for me to fail.? I say. ?But now what do we do??
Kat puts the frog down next to me and heads over to the tree where she put her bag. After a little searching, she finally pulls out a little bag full of white fluff. ?Now we stuff it!? She says, walking over and sitting in front of me. She grabs all of the fluff and tears the white blob in half. ?Here's how you do it,? she says, and holds up the frog. ?See this opening here? The little part you haven't sewn shut yet?? I nod. ?Well, you first need to turn the frog inside out. That way all anyone can see is the nice edge you've sewn.? She says
I nod excitedly and grab the frog. ?I've seen my mom do this a hundred times.? I say. Kat laughs, and gestures to me.
?Go ahead then. Impress me.?
I gently shove the opposite end of the frog through the opening and lead the rest of the fabric out. After a little bit of pulling and adjusting, the frog looks a little more like an actual stuffed animal. I smile and hold it out confidently. ?Ha. I told you I knew how.?
Kat did have the decency to look a little surprised, and she smirks and takes the frog from me. ?Now the exciting part,? she grins, the holds up her half of the fluff. ?We stuff it.? She then sticks out her tongue in concentration and pushes the fluff through the open part of the frog's mouth. She eventually gets it all in, but there are white shavings all over her black pants.
?Kat,? I say, trying not to laugh, ?look at your legs.? She looks down and opens her mouth in surprise.
?Oh,? she groans, ?It looks like my cat sat on me.? I can't hold it much longer, and as she starts to pitifully try and pull the pinpricks off I bust out laughing. At first she looks at me, shocked and playfully hurt.
?Okay, laugh at my pain.? She says, shoving the half-stuffed frog into my hands. ?I want to see how you feel when the same happens to you.?
I smirk and take the frog, shoving my part of the fluff into it confidently. It almost worked smoothly, but suddenly a large part of the fluff falls out of the mouth I had just smooshed. I stare in dismay at the white particles all over my black shirt and blue jeans, and Kat falls onto her back laughing. I laugh too as I shove the rebellious fuzz back into the frog and throw it at Kat. She squeaks as it hits her in the face, and sits up still chuckling.
?Alright, lets close it up.? She says, and picks up her spool of thread and her needle, cutting the thread and threading the needle. As she does so I stare at the skyline. The sun's beginning to set, having made its way below the treetops.
I stand. ?Hey Kat,? I say, walking over to my backpack and picking it up. ?I had a really good time today. I've got to get home though, before my parents freak.? Kat looks up at me with a very happy smile.
?That's alright! I had fun today too! I'm glad you let me teach you how to hand sew!? She says, waving her needle in a goodbye. ?See you tomorrow Jasmine!?
?See you tomorrow Kat.? I say, and I start the short walk home. I need to make her something in thanks. Maybe a frog?
?It's too hard and it's- just not right for me.?
?What will you do then?? the redhead asked, taking a bite from her lunch tray.
?My uncle gave me his old guitar, I'll try it out.?
She sighed. ?You can't keep changing like this.?
?But... lawn tennis is too hard, and I really do think that excelling in the guitar is in the bag for me!?
She sighed again and placed her fork down. ?Yeah, you know what? You're right. You should keep searching for the right hobby. When you find the one that you truly love, you won't walk away from it.?
Her friend gently caressed the fretboard.
?It's pretty rusted??
?Careful!?
?I'm always careful.?
?Land it, land it, ugh!? A sickening crash to the ice floor was heard. ?How many times do I have to reiterate this?? the teacher's voice echoed. ?Do not leave your hair in a ponytail while practicing, Emane! First work on your triple axel and then you can work on your performance. I do not want you to be distracted by flashes of red in the middle of your routine. Go tie your hair in a bun, go!?
The girl stood up with her hand on her calf muscle, limping. Sniffing for a bit, she skated to the stands where her mother stood with some hastily found hairpins clasped in her hands.
?Hey, Aoki, shouldn't you be at lawn tennis practice now?? She shifted in her seat to find her neighbor who barely managed to stand upright with two girthy, overflowing reusable bags.
?Just fruits and veggies; I'm not a spendthrift like Bassanio, don't worry.?
Aoki laughed. ?Come sit. No, I'm giving tennis a rest.?
?What, why??
?It's not right for me.?
He narrowed his eyes.
?Aoki.?
She didn't respond. A D-chord was strummed by her, producing a wonderfully rusted sound. Her face morphed into joy. She reminisced about the songful summer days with her father and her uncle; her dad would provide the beats with two lopsided tablas and her uncle with the Martin D-28 would serenade them both with his exemplary fingerpicking. She never sang because she wasn't good at it. Perhaps she should practice singing?
?Okay, this is bullshit.? The neighbor kept his bags down. ?You've been like this since- what, 3rd grade? You would do two sums then jump onto English comprehension. After five minutes you would open your history book just to see the illustrations. Then back to multiplication when it bored you. Your mind never settles on one thing, Aoki. You have to be clear on what you want to do. You can't keep changing like this.?
?It's just a hobby, okay? I don't HAVE to be clear. I have to keep searching for the right hobby. I'll stick with it only if it fits with me.?
?Who told you that??
She carefully placed her pinky as well as her middle and ring fingers to produce the G-chord.
?Doesn't matter.?
?Who was it??
?Emane, okay??
His face twisted.
?The figure skater, huh?
She just played a masterful chess move. She eliminated as many of her opponents as she could.?
Aoki now put her guitar down. ?Excuse me??
?You guys were in the same skating club before you left crying after a fall that left a bruise- here, remember?? He pointed towards her knee. Aoki covered the place with her hands.
?Emane doesn't want you back. She knows you had the talent. She knows you're searching for the ?right' hobby, so she encourages you to look on. Go on, waste your time while I perfect my axels and leaps and proceed to win some particularly extravagant prizes. Do you think Emane loved skating in the beginning? No, she was forced into it just like you were, but she kept doing it and then she started loving it. Now, it is not only her hobby but also her talent. Talent is not only about loving what you do, Aki, it's about having the skills needed and consistency. Emane keeps practicing. She doesn't stop. She works hard. Trust me when I say this, you were a better skater than her when we were kids. But look at where your inconsistency has brought you. I know you are trying to figure out the perfect hobby for you, but whenever will you develop the talent if you keep changing them? No, I'm not mixing up talent and a hobby. I'm saying this because I know what you are like. Most people see hobbies as a way to relieve stress; they don't care how badly they do it, but you are the total opposite. You have to be the best in your hobby. Your fickle self will never help you in becoming the best, though.
I- I could never believe that Emane would have such a pernicious effect on you.?
Aoki remained silent for a very long time. All she did was pick up her guitar and stride off in the direction of her home.
?Hey, I have my recital on Saturday, will you be coming?? Scarcely did Emane sit down next to her before Aoki brushed away the crumbles off her skirt and abruptly got up. ?I have- homework,? she confessed. ?I'm going to the library.?
Aoki couldn't settle on a subject. Math? Biology? When she eventually chose Physics, the bell rang, indicating that the break was over.
?Do you want?
Want to hang out for a bit??
?I have skating practice.?
?Hey, do you want to do homework together in the library?? Emane inquired. She looked nervous with a flushed face. Aoki tugged at her bag. ?I have tennis at three. I'll have to take off.?
Emane was left standing alone on the carpeted floor with only the books and the few other students as her companions.
?Aoki, you have improved so much! Although I will have to say this, you were anyway fabulous since day one. You picked up so fast!?
?I actually played some tennis back in 8th grade.?
?What precluded you from continuing it then??
?Uh, increasing workload? but- but I can now manage my time,? she put up her hands in surrender. Her coach gave her a reassuring smile. ?Good to hear. Now go obliterate your arms by doing some medicine ball slams. Medicine ball slams everyone!? he clamoured.
?Well, seems like you are satiated with tennis, huh??
?I guess. Coach's redundant compliments actually make me want to play better. I do enjoy the feeling.?
?I told you, I can never be infallible in my advice.?
?Shut up,? Aoki said smirking and nudged him with her shoulder.
?Are you going to the recital?? he asked.
?Coach has kept a practice match for the Interhouse competition actually, so no.?
He pursed his lips. ?Okay. I'll be there.? He patted her shoulder and left.
Emane stood silently in the corner, fixing her skate guard having finished her warm-up. In a few minutes, the spotlight would dance along with her as she would ebb and flow towards the audience performing to Dancing On My Own on the rink- her only world. No one was around her to calm her nerves down. As usual, she had to be there for herself. Emane stretched her legs over the barriers of the rink, remembering why it was important to do so. Something to do with the synovial fluid being released... she would have to revise Biology. Her mother sat on the benches and her Coach stood a couple of meters away, analysing each breath her student took.
Emane caught a glimpse of the silhouette in front of her; the LED lighting glaring at her. ?Aoki," she breathed out.
?Hey, you student. You aren't allowed to be here. Please-?
?Miss, it'll just be a few seconds,? Emane insisted. She brought Aoki to the side.
?You left your practice match for me??
?You guile, malignant-?
?What?"
"You traitor, you-"
"Aoki, stop,? Emane grabbed her shoulders.
?You see me as your opponent? As a rival??
?What??
?You-?
?I see you as my friend.?
?You managed to deceit me, Emane. You would win and I would lose. I would never amount to anything, that was what you wanted, right?? Emane raised her eyebrow and pulled her costume down a bit.
?Aoki. I asked you to keep searching because- I cannot do it anymore. My greatest wish in life is to work on Art and Biology and not keep working on my lutz or my salchow day in and day out. I don't care about the prizes I win because I do not love skating. It brings pleasure only for a little while. I don't want that for you. I just don't want that for you.?
Aoki trembled. Maybe it was the degree of coldness emitted from the rink or maybe it was something else.
?You- you really don't love ice skating??
?I like it. That's it. I just want you to not be stuck with something forever you cannot accept to love.?
Aoki's eyes remained fixed on Emane. She shifted her gaze ever so slightly towards the rink.
?I came for you. You better do well. Dance to the music and remember to have fun,? she grinned a beautiful smile
The sun rays were soft and diffused, a perfect tone for the players and the audience. Aoki secured a high, steadfast ponytail. Emane fixed a Nike's cap on her friend's head.
"I want nothing more than a love from the opponent, okay? Also, remember to have fun."
"Okay, Coach." They both grinned.
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