𝒂 𝒈𝒊𝒓𝒍 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒂 𝒄𝒉𝒓𝒐𝒏𝒊𝒄 𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒂 𝒃𝒐𝒚 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒂 𝒎𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒃𝒍𝒆𝒎𝒔.
Layla Mitchell is still considered the new girl even after already living a year in the small town of Crescent City, Oregon. The Mond...
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Wednesday
Mothers with strollers and older people were the only ones at the mall at this hour. Only a handful of teens were here and those were the ones that wanted to show off their impoliteness and rebellion. They looked about fourteen with heavy eyeliner and ripped clothes with so many piercings on their faces. My mom made sure that we didn't brush past them, afraid that I would contract something else. I'm pretty sure at the back of her mind she was glad I didn't turn out to be like those kids.
"Should we go inside that little boutique?" My mom points towards a white framed store with the girliest wallpaper and frilly dresses on display. 'Poppy' in bright pink letters glows above the store. It was one of those big corporate stores that sold fast fashion at an insane cheap price. One of the few that I found familiar here in town, but I dare not to go inside.
"Sure," I say. I knew my mom liked those kinds of stores. The ones where it made daughters look like some type of angel. A facade of what they truly were underneath. Pretty much every single friend of Maggie's shops here, including her. She would always talk about the crazy sales they have and would show me the millions of bags piled on her bed.
The inside smells like vanilla sugar and cotton candy. It's like the stench of an old candy shop that couldn't get rid of its smell after being closed for so long. I feel the fabric of some of the dresses and notice how cheap they feel. Nothing like fast fashion in corporate America.
"This one is pretty isn't it?" My mom holds up a bright Fuschia mini dress with white daisies sprinkled on it. It was horrendous.
"I don't think it would be nice for this weather," I say.
"Ugh, you're right. We'll have to come back in spring," she says putting the dress back onto the rack.
There were more like those dresses in fifty other colors. The green one reminds me of the puke that erupted out of my stomach in the third grade after I ate too many sour gummies and cotton candy at the fair. I avoided fairs after the incident and the sugary foods. I could never look at candy the same. The smell in the store was beginning to make me feel nauseous and a headache was beginning to take place.
"Let's check out Sally's. I need to get some new nail polish," My mom says.
I shake my head hoping to shake the feeling away and regain my vision back. The darkness was starting to clear up again.
"Are you okay honey?"
"Yeah, I'm fine. The smell was just bothering me."
"Yeah, the smell of cotton candy isn't a good marketing scheme," My mom says, shaking her head. She drags me out of the door and heads towards the end of the mall where the bigger stores were at. The ones where moms liked to shop at.
We pass by smaller shops like a candle store, a bookstore, a shoe store, and a mini hair and nail salon. I heard from Maggie that this is where people come every day to do their shopping and nails. Everyone pretty much knows each other here. Speaking of which, there was a random lady waving towards my mother near the Starbucks.
