Please, Miss (GirlxGirl) ✔️

12 | costumes & dances

"It's bloody freezing, where is this bus?" Clarice complained as the three of us stood at the bus stop down the road from the school on Wednesday afternoon, in amongst the rest of the school crowd heading into town to buy their costumes for the dance. I shivered, checking my wristwatch.

"It should be here in three minutes," I murmured, folding my arms across my chest.

The past few days had been odd. I hadn't spoken another word to Miss Bowen, even in lessons. She hadn't asked me any questions, and so during History and English, I'd simply sit, sometimes making notes, sometimes not. Occasionally I'd notice her staring at me from down the corridor or across the room in the dining hall, but whenever she realised I'd seen her, Miss Bowen would quickly divert her gaze to the floor.

I tried to push her out of my thoughts, focussing on having a good time in town this afternoon with Megan and Clarice.

At long last, the bus turned up, and everyone packed themselves into it eagerly. When we arrived into town, Megan dragged us off the bus by our wrists, nattering excitedly about what costumes we would buy.

We first stepped into the old vintage looking store, and I felt a horrible pang of sadness elapse into the pit of my stomach as a wash of déjà vu drowned me. I tried to mask my gloom as we wandered through the isles. I came to a halt beside the rack of hats, notching the small plastic flower still sat there, seemingly untouched from where Miss Bowen and I had left it a few weeks previous. I picked it up, my fingers stroking it gently, and kept it in my hand.

"Okay," Megan sighed as I rounded the corner into the isle her and Clarice stood in the middle of. "There isn't much here, but we should go next door. I think they have a fairly big fancy dress range."

"I'll be right there," I said, and she nodded, heading out the store with Clarice as they discussed which was sexier, a red devil or a witch. How was there even a debate about that?

I made my way to a counter, setting the delicate white flower down in front of a grey-haired man.

"Just this?" He said, and I nodded. "Very pretty, love. That'll look great in your hair."

"It's actually not for me," I replied with a small smile.

"Oh," he arched his eyebrows. "Pound, please." I handed him a coin and took the flower from the countertop, thanking him with a smile. "For someone special then, is it?"

"Sort of," I shrugged. "I'm not sure if I'll even give it to her though. I think maybe everything is a little too broken to be put back together."

The man sighed, staring into my eyes with deep intent for a few long, uncomfortable moments. "Do you love this girl?" He asked, and I was taken aback by his abruptness. Since when did strangers ask such personal questions? I opened my mouth to speak, but only a small, squeaky sound came out in the place of actual words. "If you love her, sweetheart, give it a shot. My biggest regret, to this very day, is never telling the love of my life my true feelings. We lost contact, and a few years back I finally decided enough was enough. Tried to track her down but it was too late, she'd died back in 2010. Cancer, the bloody thing that got her. Heartbroken, I was. Don't miss your chance, darlin', it ain't worth the pain if you realise you've made a mistake."

"Right," I breathed. "Um, well thank you. And I'm really sorry to hear about..."

"Dianne."

"Right, about Dianne."

He smiled. "On your way now, sunshine. Don't keep your friends waiting."

I gave him one last sad smile before heading out the door, almost feeling like I wanted to lay in the middle of the street and cry. I didn't want to end up like that man, alone and heartbroken at the missed opportunity. I knew that Miss Bowen was afraid, and so was I, but maybe that's what love is. Perhaps love is all about the chances you take, and if you don't take them, maybe it's not love at all.