the moral of the story

chapter ten: either a really great actress or a really nice girl

"i don't know, hals," i sighed, tearing through another rack of dresses, "what if they don't like me? then what?"

it was a few days after james promised me that beautiful ring, making me sob in the making. he called me while i was hanging out with hallie, asking me if i wanted to attend a party to meet his friends. and not wanting to sound like a cold bitch, i agreed for some stupid reason.

hallie, coming from money herself, offered to take me shopping and purchase me a dress. obviously i turned her down, because i'd never want her to think i was using her for her money, which i wasn't. but she insisted, and that was how we ended up in some expensive clothing store in downtown london, while i was sweating bullets.

"then you'll have dodged a bullet." i heard hallie's voice reply from behind a rack of dresses. "i bet they're awful. i mean can you imagine? growing up all privileged with not a sense of the real world—"

"hey, hals," i interrupted, stifling back a laugh, "you're hearing yourself, right? you."

"oh, right, sorry." hallie caught herself, emerging from behind the rack with another handful of dresses. i groan at the sight, already dreading the next hour. scratch that, i was dreading the next twelve hours.

"oh, hush," hallie scolded, sounding all posh wit her british accent. she started to head over towards the dressing room, "you really hate dresses that much?"

"i don't hate them," i replied as i followed her, "i just...think that they suck, you know."

hallie turned to give me a displeased look. when we arrived at the dressing room, she dropped all the dresses on the ground and told me to put each and every one of them on. i didn't have time to express my feelings again before she disappeared behind the door.

dress after dress—basically death after death—and nothing seemed quite right. like, weren't girls supposed to feel that, you know, feeling when they try on the perfect dress? that aha moment where like time stops and it would be just you and the dress, realizing that the boy of your dreams would fall instantly in love with you? well, the boy of my dreams already loved me, so i guess it didn't matter. my goodness, i would never get tired of saying that to myself.

"how long will you spend in there," i heard hallie call as she knocked loudly against the wooden dressing room door, "because you haven't even shown me one dress yet, florence."

sighing, i glanced down at the dress that was halfway up my thighs. i shimmied it up and adjusted the straps so it covered me completely. i guess it wasn't so ugly. it was black and came down to about my mid thighs. the top of it was covered in sparkles and fit me like a tank top would, and the bottom just hugged my body in a way that i guess i didn't completely hate. but going out like this...i didn't think my insecurities would let me.

i mean probably any other girl could pull it off but me. i'd always been a little tomboyish, i guess. i had always insisted on wearing pants instead of dresses to special occasions when i was a kid, and when it was no longer socially acceptable, i made sure to get my point across by wearing my bright ass green converse.

but i didn't think this was quite the event for my prized sneakers.

then again, i tried to put that all behind me when i got middle school. as i began the wonderful stage of my life called puberty, i started to abandon my tomboyish tendencies and dove into every makeup tutorial ever on youtube i could find. i spent hours perfecting my signature cat-like eyeliner and just enough concealer. besides, i needed to learn to be a bit more girly after cassie jones convinced me to join the cheer squad with her. and by the time eighth grade rolled around, i was practically a different person.