Up, Up and Away

13//bad reputation

chapter 13: bad reputation

     Walt has been trying to keep calm for the past hour. His partner arrived to the mall with a frown that reached her collarbones and eyes so dull, they reminded him of an ocean during the night.

   He tried not to think about her during the week. He really did. But the smell of her cherry lipstick so close to his lips; it haunted his nights. He concentrated on Ana and studying instead; as Holly was ignoring him. She told him to meet her at the mall during the weekend so that they could shop and make him acceptable.

   Instead of going to a respectable store, Holly pressed on the BASEMENT button on the elevator door. He hadn't even known that there was a basement, but then again he came to this mall a total of dozen times before today. He didn't argue with her, he didn't talk to her at all. She pulled her sunglasses over her head and kept her mouth shut.

    It was the first time he'd seen her so upset, other than the panic attack. He could feel her rage and sadness radiating off her, and he didn't know what to do about it. He couldn't solve this with a mathematical equation or a thousand-word essay; this was Holly. She was unlike anything he'd ever seen in his life.

   A store called ECLIPSE is in front of them. It's clearly a vintage store, he wonders what they're doing there. Holly walks in, spine straight and heads to the cashier booth.

   "Hi, I'm looking for Elizabeth Walstone?" She says. They are the first words that haven't ended in a cuss word all day. He notices that her demeanor changes, she leans against the counter and puckers her lips. It's almost as if...she is flirting.

    "Right here," answers a girl. Her magenta braid reaches her butt, it sways sharply along with her every move. She's pretty, Walt notices. Her eyes meet Holly's and they widen in surprise, "Holl?"

    "Liz, hey," grins Holly, and she looks happy while doing so, "How've you been?"

   "I've been good. You?" Elizabeth, he presumed, is taken aback by Holly's eager smile.

    "Fantastic. You look beautiful, as always."

    She blushes. "Thank you? Look, Holly, what the hell are you doing here?"

   "To see you." At Liz's glare, she rolls her eyes and adds: "I need your help." She grabs the bag of clothes from Walt's hands and sets them on the table.

    Liz looks through it and grimaces, "this is shit."

   None of the girls even glance at Walt; so he is awkwardly standing in a store that smells like musk and mint. He balances his weight from one foot to another, as if there's much to balance. He's almost sure he weighs a little less than Holly. (But then again, she has curves that his thin hands could never hold and a body that Ana can never measure up to, as much as Walt hates to admit it.)

    "I know, babe," says Holly. Liz visibly gets goose-bumps at the word. "But would you please help me out? I'm trying to make him stop getting bullied. With his sense of style, he has no chance."

    Why, thank you, thinks Walt.

   Liz stares at Holly for a full minute, then at Walt with pity and groans, "I'm doing this for your bullied friend."

   Holly smiles and Walt wonders what it's like to be on the receiving end of that ray of sun, "Thank you, Liz. You're the best."

   Soon, Walt is whisked away to a dressing room. Holly tells him that they have more than enough money for new clothes, even though he has fifty dollars in his wallet. She throws jeans that squeeze him in places that shouldn't feel that tight, t-shirts of bands he only heard of from his parents.

   She barks at him to hurry up trying on the clothes, and he settles on the first outfit: jeans and a Rolling Stones shirt. He steps out and two women eye him up and down.

    Holly nods, "not bad." She squeezes his upper arm and lifts his shirt, which Walt pulls down with complaint. "You need to work out, but this is not bad at all. You look cute."

   "Uh, thank you," he's surprised at her mood swing.

    "I didn't say you're a young Leonardo Di Caprio, Walt. Now go back in there and try on outfit number two."

    He turns around and feels a slap on his butt, which makes him jump five feet in the air. He looks at Holly, who is only slyly smiling at him. "What the fu—dge was that? You can't do that!"

   "Do what?"

    "My butt is my butt."

    "Your butt is cute," she winks.

    "Stop that."

    "What? It's the truth, Walt. Learn to accept a compliment."

    "That's sexual abuse, you know."

    She nods as if speaking to a child, "Get back in there, Walt."

    He obliges and hears hysterical giggles from the other side of the curtain. He hopes that she doesn't pull the curtain open on him through out the rest of the shopping trip, but she does. Thrice.

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I LOVED WRITING THIS ONE.