299 Days As a Guy

Chapter 4 - Slore Hudson

The baby blue convertible screeched to a halt at the front entrance to Murrieta Shopping mall. Suddenly the rain seemed to have never existed, as the lingering Tuesday afternoon was at its peak. We emerged out onto the sun kissed pavement. It gleamed like Kylie after the weekend she spent on Miami beach last year.

Before us, towered the mall, it's glassy appeal shimmering from top to bottom.
"Alright," I smiled at the others, "let us go buy clothes that will make Gargan regret she turned us into guys in the first place!"
That was pep-talk enough. Each armed with our collection of credit cards, we set foot after foot on the sacred ground we came to worship every Sunday.

As girls, the mall had always been a sanctuary- like a magnified version of the girls' bathroom. This was where we wasted hours upon hours choosing between a black or white pair of shoes. This was where we temporarily relieved our endless thirst for new outfits. This was what defined us girls.

At first, I wasn't quite sure how it would be, since we most definitely were not girls anymore. Would my emotions differ? Was the golden bond I made with this place broken?

Ever since I remembered, dragging any boyfriend of ours here was always a major struggle which often resulted in a fight. Cameron was especially stubborn and made it a point to have, what he said was, 'golf practice' every time I was nice enough to ask him to come shopping with us. I had always assumed that 'golf practice' was the kind of golf practice where one goes and practices golf. However, since hearing his hearty statements about Tiff Hudson, I realized that there was a variety of different and interesting things he could have been doing instead.

We stopped in the big fountainous courtyard of the mall which opened up behind the glass doors. It was surrounded by shops. Two elevators and moving stairs led to the second and third floors which canopied above our heads, opening up a huge ring of blue sky. A sudden feeling flashed over me. Something like the opposite of claustrophobia; a fear of big open spaces.
I felt forlorn.

The shops and neon signs all seemed to whizz into a threatening tornado of colour which was causing my eyes to ache. Where do we go first?
"Where do we go first?" Kyle looked around. Apparently I was not the only one wandering.
I eyed the shop windows on the first floor looking for a target, but I couldn't stop my gaze on anything, sort of as if I was looking out into nothing.
"Lacoste?" Suggested Blain. "It's on the second floor."
"Hell no!" Tyler sneered. "I am not going to show up at the Cullens' house party looking like I run a protection program for crocodiles... Hell, I don't even like 'em." He shuddered.
"Ok not Lacoste then..." Kyle shrugged indifferently. "I'm pretty sure Urban Outfitters have a guys' section. It's right here of the first floor."
No way; I one bought a pair of jeans there and never wore them in my life. "Do I look like a Urban kind of gal to you?" I folded my arms.
"You don't look like a 'gal' at all to me." Tyler acknowledged as if everyone else hadn't noticed.
"No shizzle Sherlock!" I hissed.
"Ok screw this, I'm going to MacDonald's." Blain announced and started up the stairs.
"I like that idea."
"Count me in."
So we all trailed behind him up to the third floor to the buffet area. The huge and glowing letter 'M' announced that Blain would get wasted on fries and the shopping date would have to end in order for us to drag him home.

I was never much of a MacPerson, even as a girl, when the poignant menstrual hunger attacked me by surprise. So being my usual self, I let the others go inside and nock themselves out, while I waited at the table sipping gracefully on my little Starbucks latté. I once heard that those had more caffeine than an extra caffeinated, extra large cup of MacFrappé. I never let that get to me.

It was then that I saw a familiarly ugly face in the midst of hungry shoppers.

Tiff Hudson and her little gaggling group of wannabe besties. They were in line at the frozen yogurt stand, each weight-lifting with a bunch of shopping bags dangling evenly spread up their arms - nearly all from Primark, infiltrated by a few Hollister.