The following morning, Mae and I get the bus into town. It's mild outside, with a nip in the air. It looks like it might rain later; the sky is grey and blotchy like a watercolour painting.
I'm wearing a felt trench coat that reaches my knees. I keep pulling it tighter at the belt to stave off the cold.
Mae, on the other hand, is completely under-dressed in a strap top, black mini skirt and fishnets. She keeps shivering and mumbling about not bringing her new denim jacket.
"Oh Mae, when will you learn?" I sigh. This must be the fiftieth time she has done this.
We step off the bus, Mae almost crushing someone's toes with her gigantic platform boots.
I notice that her boots have little bandaged teddy bears hanging off them, and I smile. How Mae.
"I'll learn eventually," she says. There is a mischievous glint in her dark eyes. "Or maybe I won't. I mean, forgetting your jacket is a fantastic excuse to buy another one, right?"
I roll my eyes. Mae works at the local high street cafe most weekends, so she has more money to spend than I do. She must spend the vast majority of her wages on new clothes.
"Where do you want to go first?" I ask.
"Where do you think?"
I should have guessed. Mae takes me by the arm and leads me to a gloomy-looking side street. The pavements are cobbled and uneven, and I have to make a huge effort not to trip over and fall flat on my face. There are a few teenage boys with bicycles, cigarettes hanging from their mouths. I try and avoid their gaze, but I notice that they're mostly ogling Mae.
We stop. Mae's favourite shop is in front of us. The brick walls are covered in graffiti tags and scribbles, and the windows are dirty. However, peering closely, I can see rails brimming with beautiful lace dresses and coffin-shaped bags.
Chainsbury's is Mae's go-to place for alternative clothes and I am astonished that they haven't been sued for copyright infringement yet. Then again, you can hardly read the sign anymore. The h and the b have fallen off, making the logo almost unintelligible.
We step inside. I exhale, embracing the warmth of the tiny shop. It's dimly lit, as you might expect, with screamo music blaring in the background from a retro-looking set of orange speakers.
The man behind the counter grins at us. He is a large guy, probably in his forties, with a long dark beard and huge gauged ears. His arms are covered in blackwork tattoos, and there is a hint of mischief in his smile.
I like him. He seems like the kind of person who would find it hilarious if his shop became featured in the local paper for ripping off a supermarket chain.
"Can I help you, lassie?" he asks Mae in a thick Glaswegian accent.
"Do you have any jackets or hoodies?"
He points towards the back of the shop.
There is a small collection of long-sleeve tops and jackets. Mae picks out a plaid Parker-style coat lined with black faux fur. Her thick eyebrows are drawn together and her lips are pursed.
"You look torn," I say.
"That's because I am. Have you seen the price?" She pulls out the tag.
"Seventy pounds!" I gasp.
"Well, it's a beautiful jacket, isn't it? It would last me years. Besides, it's autumn already so I need something to keep me warm."
"Mae, how many coats and jackets do you have at home?"
YOU ARE READING
One More Thing
RomanceValerie's world is turned upside down when she learns that her father is dating the mother of Sydney, the meanest girl in the school. However, things get 10 times worse when Sydney and her mother move in with them. Valerie feels like there is no esc...
