ivy; s.m.

f o u r

     I sat down on the bench as the cute sales guy walked over holding a couple boxes.

"We didn't have the white in a six and a half, but we had red and grey." he said, setting the boxes beside me.

I smiled, not wanting to talk in my nasally voice.

"Thank you," Tessa said, twirling a piece of hair around her finger. We had kicked out my mom, who was currently browsing a shop across the hall.

I slipped on the grey ones, carefully tying the laces and standing up. I walked around, trying to think about how they felt and if they were comfortable, but the damn new boy was looking at me. I thought I might be blushing, but didn't dare reach up and check. His stare was so intense I could feel it on my back.

"Do you like them?" Tessa asked.

"Yeah," I said quietly.

"Would you like to pay? Or continue browsing?" Ugh, his voice was dreamy.

"Ivy?" Tessa poked me, and I slipped out of a trance. I got them a lot, especially around boys like him.

"Oh, um, yeah." I said quickly.

Tessa raised an eyebrow and the boy cracked a smile.

"Oh, pay. Please. Now." I stuttered awkwardly.

I could not get out of that store soon enough. It was like slow motion as he helped me pay, and when it was over I gripped the bag with white knuckles and sped out of the store.

I felt like crying, I had never felt that much embarrassment in my life.

"It's okay, Ivy," Tess chuckled.

"No!" I yelled, "it's not okay. I just made a fool out of myself in there and you think it's funny." My mom saw my distress and walked over.

"Ivy, calm down," my mom said in a worried tone, smoothing my hair, "where do you want to shop next?"

I hated how she avoided my pain as if it wasn't there, moving on to the next question. So I stormed into the closest store.

-

"Wow, look at these pants!" Tessa gasped, running her fingers along the seam of a pair of acid washed, colourful jeans.

"They're so eye catching," my mom added. Sometimes, I felt like she wished I had turned out like Tess; fashion loving and ambitious.

Me, I felt the soft sleeve of the sweater on the mannequin. The display was obviously designed to make the shoppers notice the pants. The light pink, cashmere sweater was just a filler, an article of clothing no one noticed. That made me sad.

"I like this sweater," I whispered, catching the attention of a sales lady.

"Oh, it's on sale. What size are you, I'll check the back," she asked.

"Small," I said.

She came back minutes later with a sigh. "I'm sorry, there aren't any more besides this one. Would you like to try it on?" Her chipper personality was hard to take in.

"Sure," I replied. As she stripped the mannequin. It felt wrong leaving the plastic girl so naked, but I continued to the change room anyways.

I slipped the sweater on, locked in the mirrored stall, and smiled at my reflection. It fit perfectly, and was just the right length that I could pull it over my fingers.

"What do you think?" My mom called from the other side of the door.

"I love it," I said a bit loudly, grinning at my reflection. Perfectly simple.

"It looks soft," Tessa added, and I nodded.

"If you like soft, I have a pair of socks also on clearance?" the sales lady said. I nodded, and she retreated behind the cash, digging in a cardboard box.

"Here we are," she said, emerging with a pair of thick, grey socks. I felt the fabric between my fingers.

"Can I get both?" I asked Mom.

"Sure," she said, "this is your day, sweetheart."

We checked out and drove Tessa home. At the end of the day, when the sky was dark and the streetlights flickered on, I was laying on my bed staring at my slowly moving ceiling fan.

I hugged myself tightly, the soft feeling of sweater on my skin. I closed my eyes and fell asleep.