HughTube

Chapter 12

"A clothing sale?" I squeaked to Molly as she got up and started walking towards the store. I fumbled to grab my jacket and rushed to keep up.

"Yeah. We gotta make you look presidential!" she said.

Molly entered the store and immediately started flipping through some men's shirts on a rack. I couldn't believe it. She knew her way around the men's section better than I did. "You know," I protested weakly, "I wasn't really planning to – "

"Try this one. You large?" Molly pulled out a stylish shirt and held it in front of my chest, looking doubtful. "Medium?"

"Uh... large. Definitely large," I insisted. Bold and gutsy men don't wear medium!

But Molly shook her head and held up another shirt. Looking at it, she nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, that works. Now pants." She handed me the shirt and moved on to a pants rack. She flipped through some black jeans.

I got a little worried. "Black? I don't really wear – "

"I know, black jeans, so Gen X," she said, not stopping her search. "But they're coming back. Black is the new black." She shoved a pair into my already full hands, saying, "Try them on." Then, spotting a light scarf, she grabbed it and added it to the pile. "Oh, and this. You'll look great."

"A scarf?" I asked, confused. "But it's not winter."

"Come on," she said with a bit of a smile. "You need a little style if you want to run for President." Then she moved on to look at some women's clothes. "I'll be over here when you're ready."

I was left piled with clothes, probably looking pretty helpless. A woman hadn't dressed me since I was ten, and that was my mother. Now it was a girl I was supposed to impress. Way to take charge, Hugh.

In the fitting room, I held the shirt in front of me, looking in the mirror. It had a distinctive jungle pattern on it. "Kinda nice..." I mused. It truly was nice – but it was something I'd never have chosen for myself. I realized at that moment that I should probably never dress myself again. Molly knew better what I should wear. Heck, my mother probably still knew better what I should wear.

Then I realized: Maybe that was the answer to all my problems. Forget HughTube, I should just let other people make all my important decisions for me. If I didn't get it – about pretty much everything – why didn't I just turn over all major life choices to other people who did get it?

But the whole point of HughTube was learning. And you can't learn if you let other people do everything for you. I realized I had to go on screwing up and go on learning from my screw-ups. Drag. I thought I had a real revelation here.

After I put on the new clothes, I stepped out of the fitting room. I threw on the scarf and let Molly look me over. A little embarrassed, I spread my arms to show off my 'new look'.

Molly smiled. "Yeah! Turn around." I turned around self-consciously. She smiled wider. "I like, I like!"

I scratched my neck. "The scarf itches a little, though..." But as I scratched, I dropped the pile of my own clothing that I had draped over my arm. So I got down on the floor to collect it all. Some of it had fallen partly under the door of another fitting room stall, and I had to reach in and grab it.

That's when I noticed a lady's feet in the stall. "Sorry," I said.

Big mistake. The lady screamed "Hey!" I scrambled to get up with all my stuff. Then she threw open her fitting room door and pointed a big bony finger right at me. "You were peeping!"

"What?! Me??" I went white as a ghost. I was horrified. "No, I was – "

Suddenly, the lady zeroed in on my HughTube camera. "That's a camera! On your glasses! You were shooting me! You were shooting me getting undressed!"

"NO!" I protested. "This thing isn't even on!"

The lady called out loud for everybody to hear. "He was recording me! He was going to put me on the internet!"

I went even paler than before, if that was even possible. "NO! NO! NOOOO!"