Behind The Glasses

Chapter 3

   As our town is too small to be accounted for, we take the bus into town. Yep, nerds taking the ten to five bus into the next town, Morgtown; it’s unheard of. Morgtown is bleaker than my own home town; only it has much more shops.

   Amya texted Ryker earlier saying she had already found the perfect dress. Lucky her! So I am left to trawl the streets of Morgtown with Ryker; great, because he really knows how to pick out the perfect dress.

   Morgtown has no chain stores, which means a quick trip to new look or next is out of the option; damn. The first place Ryker suggest we go is a small store on the edge of town called Freedream; it’s quite ‘unique’ – putting it bluntly, we walk in and walk out within the space of a minute. The second store is thankfully a small Debenhams outlet; here I manage to pick up the perfect pair of shoes – small black flats, one of the cute own necklaces, and a small clutch bag; all I was missing was obviously the dress.

   Through three more stores we trudged, hopelessly; we were on the brink of giving up; Morgtown has very little shops. We stopped in a small coffee shop, taking a seven o’clock break. “This is a disaster” Ryker cries, “I’ve got to be home for ten and so far I’ve got nothing and you need a stupid dress!” I sip my hot chocolate quickly, it has squirty cream on top and chocolate sprinkles – it’s the best thing I’ve had for months. I offered to pay but Ryker objected. What a gentleman.

    We exit the little café, taking a left down a really dodgy looking alleyway. Why we chose to come down here I don’t know. It’s turning to dusk, I move slightly closer to Ryker, he does the same; we hurry down the alleyway. It’s a dead end, I can hear a drunk coming towards us; my heart is in my mouth.

   Most people would be totally chilled in these situations, flip off the drunk and carry on walking. Not me; I panic. The drunk is sat on the floor, singing harmlessly; slurring his words, shaking his bottle filled hand; slumped on the ground.

   The drunk’s arm wraps round my ankle, I scream; Rkyer bends down to prise the filthy fingers from my leg; the drunk refuses to let go; I kick him. “You’ll regret that!” the drunk slurred, trying to swing a punch at us; he misses by miles. We hurry back down the road, only stopping back at the café once we’re sure he isn’t following us. I hate drunks.

   Deciding that sticking to broad, occupied, well lit streets is a better idea; we trudge down the only street in town that is yet unknown to us. It is a new road; skin road; what a weird name. There is no houses, which is a shame; we’ve always found it humorous that if we could name a street, it would be skin road; so we could laugh at those living at number four. Mature I know.

   Halfway down the road, past the banks and bakeries is a small shop; it is hidden behind a branch of ivy. Rkyer peers in through the window, grabs my arm and drags my inside. Inside I see we are in a tiny shop, no bigger than my kitchen at home; it has a till and a few things hung up here and there, I shake my head dismissively; but Ryker is gesturing to a small sign at the back, behind the lady on the till. “Hello, how may I help you?” she yawned in a French accent, “We’ve got everything for you small minded people; band t-shirts, low cut jeans, hideous hats and those disgusting slutty tops”.

   Ryker and I stood there gawping at each other. Did she seriously just say that aloud? “Oh pardon, excuse moi; I didn’t realise I was saying that aloud. Je suis Madame Fleur-Mur, how may I help you?” the till lady, or rather Madame Fleur-Mur, announced.

   Ryker and I were speechless, the lady in front of us so strange; “I’m looking for a dress for a party” I tell her politely, “Not too formal, but definitely not revealing anything! Do you think you can help us please?” Madame Fleur-Mur scrutinized me; the beautiful woman she was: tall, thin; perfect blonde hair curled up on her head, her makeup subtle but striking; accentuating her bright blue eyes and her cherry lips.

   For a moment I thought she was going to turn us away; she did not; instead her cherry lips tweaked up into a smile, a beam; like sun coming out from behind the clouds. She clapped her perfectly, pristine white, manicured hands; “Bon oui mon petit chéri! I have chose parfait! C’est parfait! Follow me mademoiselle to my boudoir ma petit plumes!” I obeyed, Ryker in tow. Poor confused Madame Fleur-Mu; at least I got the jist: yes, my darlings! I have the perfect thing! It’s perfect! Follow me miss to my dressing room, my little feather. Confusing!

   In the boudoir were many fine dresses, all with at least double figure price tags, above £100. Jesus, no way could I afford one thing in here! Not even a simple necklace! “Chéri! This is perfect for you!” Madame Fleur-Mur called, passing me a small dress; she picked up a small wooden partition; so I could change away from the prying eyes of Ryker. He was only a teenage boy after all. After a minute of squeezing and wriggling the dress was on; it fitted perfectly; as though it was made just for me!

   I slip on the necklace and the shoes, brush my hair out of my face before walking out from behind the partition. I don’t have my glasses yet thank god; I’ll only need them for reading anyway. I keep my braces hidden in a tight lipped smile; “Belle chéri! It looks amazing!” Madame praises, Ryker says nothing; he’s too busy gawping. Pervert. I look at myself in the full length mirror; I look different; transformed:

   My thin, boy like figure is flaunted by the tightness of the dress, having a big bust wouldn’t suit this dress. Or a big bum, thinking about it; it’s good I have neither. The dress is midnight blue, so I take off the necklace. But for the first time in my life I look beautiful; I feel beautiful. This dress is indescribable. I stand admiring my reflection in the mirror.

   The sound of applause breaks the spell. We all wheel around, there is the guy who keeps randomly appearing everywhere; in school, Jo Wong’s and now here. Was he stalking me? Why was he here? This is starting to get weird…

   We are all staring at the guy now, my mouth is hanging open; I grab Ryker’s coat and throw it over myself. I feel so exposed, revealing my flesh to someone I didn’t know. Call me weird, frigid, but those are two things I am not; I just can’t stand people seeing my body. I hate my body. Madame Fleur-Mur is glaring at the intruder. I quickly go back behind the screen and change back into my old clothes. They feel comfortable, and they cover me up from the prying eyes of those in the room.

   “Thank you Madame, how much is the dress please?” I ask quickly, wanting to escape the shop as quickly as possible. Ryker is still dazed; he has never seen me in anything less than t-shirt and jeans. Never do I expose my body. “Je pence que it may be trop cher for you feather, je me suis désolé.” I nod in agreement; the beautiful dress was obviously tailor made; no ay would I be able to afford it. “C’est la vie” Madame said sadly; that is life.

   “Tante, Je vais à la fête aussi; avec lui, elle est ma compine ” the guy stated in fluent french to his aunt, Madame Fleur-Mur. It’s a small world. Madame nodded and handed me the dress back, “You can have it for free, anything for the girlfriend of my nephew” she added with a wink; then turned to glare at Ryker. “Then who are you?” she demanded, confused by her nephews lies. Ryker gluped; what was he supposed to say?

   “Thank you so very much” I cry, unable to say anything else. What would you say if someone just gave you a £100 dress for free?!  The guy jumped down the last few steps and put his arm possessively around my waist. The guy kept his arm fixed there as his aunt left the room. “Thanks, but why did you lie for me?” I asked; I seriously had to find out this guy’s name. Calling him ‘the guy’ in my constant monologue is getting boring. “I told you before” the guy replied, not to me; but to Ryker, “She might be your girl for now; but not for long. I’m Evan by the way; you can thank me later feather; I’ll see you at the party”.

   He swung out of the room up a flight of stairs I had previously managed to not see; they must lead up to the house behind. What the..? Why? How..? The party..? The whole thing was so weird. Madame Fleur-Mur bagged up the dress and presented it to me; I thanked her countless times; before taking the dress. With arms full of shopping Ryker and I made our way back through Morgtown to the bus stop; taking the last bus back to our hometown. I thank Ryker for taking me out that evening; before walking home to my own house.

   I sit on the daisy littered, overgrown front lawn; my beautiful dress in hand. It was a picturesque scene, a full moon casting brilliant light onto me, the Cinderella, who just found her fairy godmother and prince for the ball. The Evan. Daisies lie in my wake as I spread myself amongst them; perfectly content. It is like a scene out of Cinderella. Except this isn’t a fairy tale. This is my life; a very strange life at that.  There are only three letters I can think of to describe today’s events: WTF?!