Author: InkedGirl PM
She smiles at the end but it is not as contagious as she might have dreamed it to be. It's a half moon on her face, something seen thousands of times yet rarely meant. A coin could be tossed and for either side the answer might have been "true".Rated: Fiction K+ - English - Angst/Drama - Words: 855 - Published: 02-25-13 - id: 3104174
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
This is just a little fic I've spat out over two days.
It's piled thick with the crap going through my head currently. Drama and changes in friendships and what-not.
This is quite different from anything I've written before.
There may be more chapters depending on whether I feel up to it or have time.
If you have any thoughts, feel free to share!
"How does it look?" she asks, spinning around slightly so the blue chiffon at the bottom of the dress splays out like a little peacock fan.
"Tighter. Something tighter. And the bottom is too long. Maybe if it was like a foot up and didn't hang off you so much." The girl sitting down at the foot of the mirror chews her lip. "Color's great though."
The girl in the doorway nods and hands the posing one a streak of red fabric.
She takes it and quickly slips out of the blue one and into the new one.
"You need a date."
"I guess." She zips up the back with one hand before flattening it and stretching it finger lengths down her legs.
"You could probably go down a size," the girl sitting offers.
She turns this time, hand on her hip, then hanging at her side, turning her head in rigid motions until she finally stops.
"It was the smallest size I could find. All the extra smalls were gone." The girl in the doorway hangs up the blue dress on the return rack before stepping in to look at the red dress. "Yeah, it does look a little baggy in the front, but it'll work."
She begins unzipping the red dress and pulling her jeans and shirt back on.
"Who's your date?"
She drapes the red dress over her arm. "A guy from school."
"That's great." The seated girl rises and picks her own dress up from the floor. "We all have dates then. It's going to be fun."
"I have a pair of shoes at home that will go great with this." The girl at the door plays with the strip of dark fabric across her arm. "My date is going to freak."
"He's amazing," the one with the red dress says. "Much more exciting than mine. He's too quiet."
"I can guess what he's thinking."
The one with the red turns to the girl by the mirror. "At least my date isn't class joke."
"I don't see the difference. Both are weird," the doorway girl interjects.
They continue the conversation for a while more before deciding to leave the dressing room and pay for their dresses at the counter.
There's a girl standing by the jewelry counter as they walk out. A brown, beaten bag hangs from her left shoulder and nearly touches the floor. She hasn't forgotten to adjust the strap, she just prefers it that way.
The girl plays with the gold chain bracelet in her hand and listens to their neatly stitched conversation. Out of the corner of her eye she can see the color of the dresses. Black. Red. Pink. They all fit in the same way over their bar-like arms.
She doesn't know why but they stop somewhere near, and so she keeps the bracelet that's in her hand and turns to pick at the fat glass bead at the end of a long leather strap. The purple set in its depths like the rising night sky, and the flecks of gold, the discolored stars.
Her fingers draw away from the little treasure and she turns to one of the girls. "Hello," she responds, rubbing the cool chain still hanging from her fingers.
"You're going to the dance, right?" It's the girl with the pink who speaks.
"Well, yeah. Of course."
One of the others tilts her head and looks to the other.
"You need a date?" the pink one continues.
"Who's your date?" the one with the black asks.
The chain seems to get heavier as she speaks. "I don't have one."
"What's that supposed to mean?" The red one blinks.
"I have a group I'm going in."
"No date?" The one with the pink seems almost worried, holding her dress tighter against her chest, purse strap digging deeper into the concave of her shoulder.
"No." Her hand drops to her side. "Thank you for the offer, though. But I think I'll be fine." She smiles at the end but it is not as contagious as she might have dreamed it to be. It's a half moon on her face, something seen thousands of times yet rarely meant. A coin could be tossed and for either side the answer might have been true.
"Text us later. We could set you up." The red one still looks bothered, yet not as much as the pink.
They leave after a torrent of waves and "see you's".
The gold chain still rests in her hand and she decides then to buy it.