One of my students ran her fingers through her tangled, blonde California-girl hair, batted her eyelashes at me and announced, “I’m from Malibu.
I don’t walk!”
Before the hike one of my students ran her fingers through her tangled, blonde California-girl hair, looked at the rock formation ahead of us, batted her eyelashes at me and announced, “I’m from Malibu. I don’t walk!” Then, she stuck out her bottom lip looking for sympathy—a splotch of marshmallow from last night’s campfire caked her tan cheeks, and dirt and mustard coated her designer jeans.
She survived the hike. At the top of the rock formation I circled the students around a jojoba plant and explained that jojoba is an ingredient in many beauty products. Immediately, the girl from Malibu recognized the name from her conditioner bottle. “You’re a delight! Such a delight,” she said to the plant and plopped down on the ground beneath it. She looked content after that, lying on her stomach with her chin in her hands and thinking about the well-deserved shower she would take in several days. The other students sprawled on boulders and gazed past her, past the jojoba plant, to the ground 200 feet below, where the yucca trees and tents looked like green dots and the world appeared flat for miles....
34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 26
SEVEN DISTRACTIONS FOR FLOATING
JOHN M EDWARDS
WELCOME TO SIRE’S
ROBERT MORGAN FISHER
YOU GO YOUR WAY (AND I’LL GO MINE)
TWO LIES IN THE TELLING