First Impressions

It was the first few weeks of summer and I already felt as though I would melt to death. To add on top of the misery, the air conditioning in my room had broken down and my closest friend had moved away, creating hours of boredom that never seemed to end. I waited for what seemed like years for someone new to move into the neighborhood. Until then, I would have only a couple other people to hang out with, one of which was grounded and the other was mad at me for no particular reason.  
 
I couldn’t wait for a way out of it, either someone new to hang out with or something interesting to do around the house where the air conditioning actually worked.  
 
About a month later, the former of my wishes was granted (unfortunately my room still felt like the inside of a toaster, though). My friend and I had made up by then and were being dragged down the hill to the field to play soccer by a few of the younger kids when I saw her parents in their back yard talking to someone I didn’t recognize. I assumed it was a friend of the parents and didn’t make much of it, so I continued after the kids. After a few minutes, I realized that you can’t really run in Birkenstocks, the only shoes I had worn all summer, and went back to change shoes. I told her I would be down in a minute and walked back up the stairs towards our houses to change into sneakers.  
 
When I was near the top of the hill, I noticed that all of neighborhood parents had moved their conversation into the cul-de-sac that I lived on, including the unfamiliar one, who was now standing next to a little girl with red hair and holding a dog leash.  
 
"Hey Quincy, come over here!” I turned my head and saw my next-door neighbor waving me over. I went over to them, expecting them to try to rope my opinion into some random debate. What I did not expect were the next words to come out of her mouth.  
 
“Have you met the new girl?” I looked over at the little girl for a second, until her mom waved at me, except it wasn’t her mom.  
 
“Do you play basketball?” My mouth must have dropped to the floor as the little red-head's older sister said those four simple words. Could this be happening? 
 
“Yes!” I almost shouted in response. In the next five minutes, I figured out that she was going into the same grade as me, played basketball, and had younger siblings. Then I remembered everyone waiting at the field for me to come down. “I’ll be right back, there’s someone else you should meet,” I told the new girl. In a rush to get back down, instead of walking around the houses to take the stairs, I decided just to head down the hill right by where I was standing. 
 
The hill was steeper than I remembered and had a thin layer of light brown mud on the top. I had to bring myself into a jog to keep balanced on the slick surface. The kids at the bottom waved at me and I looked up to tell them that someone new had finally moved in. As I looked up at everyone at the soccer field, I didn’t notice that the hill dropped straight off into the ground. Just as they all looked up at me, I stepped over the drop-off and faceplanted. 
 
The first thing I thought to do was laugh at my stupidity, then realized that both the people on the top and bottom of the hill were staring at me, lying there laughing like a possessed clown. I quickly jumped to my feet and brushed as much of the dirt and mud as possible from my shirt. I told the kids one more time that there was someone new and they all ran up to meet her, leaving me standing at the bottom of the hill, bruised, out of breath, and covered in mud. 
 
Now, that was a bad first impression if there ever was one.