Problems With Popular

Chapter Four

"Hey there," a voice appeared behind me, causing me to nearly fall out of my seat. The voice laughed. "Did I scare you?"

"Little bit." I trail off a little, due to the fact that I'm speaking to Lucas.

As he's sitting down, I jump right into things.

"Okay, so I was thinking we could highlight the important parts of the novel by creating a slide show with visual representations and-"

"Woah, slow down, Cowgirl. Explain the project to me first."

I sigh in annoyance. The teacher just explained two minutes ago!

"Basically, we have to create a presentation showing why the crime was committed and who we think the guilty party is. Then we have to explain why we think it's them."

He rolls his eyes, clearly uninterested in the whole thing.

"A presentation? In front of the class? No thanks."

"Well if you would have listened, you would have known we could opt out of that and do something different."

"Great! We'll do that! What is it, exactly?"

I have to pinch myself to avoid a smug grin.

"A 14 page essay. Written by hand and then typed. And trust me, if we did that, you'd do half the work."

I almost want to say "Do you know what half of 14 is?" But I resist the urge.

Although he's rich and "beautiful" as his adoring fans call him, Lucas doesn't fit the typical dumb-jock stereotype. He's actually pretty smart, having been in all honors math classes in high school. With me, I might add.

"Well to hell with that. I guess we'll do the damn presentation." He doesn't seem too enthused about the whole idea.

We work the rest of the class. Or rather, I work. He just kind of listens and takes notes.

Before the bell rings and everyone starts packing their stuff up, Lucas tears a paper and half and slides part of it over to me. I raise my eyebrows at him.

"Your phone number, Clements."

Why does he want to call me by my last name? He's been doing it all class long and it's seriously getting on my nerves.

While I'm neatly printing my number on the paper (as much as I don't want to) he scrawls his on the other half of the paper and tosses it at me.

As we're exiting the classroom, he does that weird head nod thing at me.

"See you in trig, Clements."

I'm genuinely surprised that he remembered we have trigonometry together.

•••

The rest of the day drags by uneventfully.

Immediately after my last class, I make my way to my car and head towards work.

I work at the Macy's store in the mall. We're usually pretty busy, due to the lack of employees on the floor, but it makes work go by fast.

I have a little time before I have to clock in so I stop by Panera Bread to get a small meal, which will have to hold me over 'till I get off work at 7:00 PM.

After eating I pack up my stuff (I tried to get as much of my schoolwork done as possible before my shift) and head for my car.

I arrive and pin my little name tag onto my loose-fitting top. I have to try to dress nicer on days that I work right after school. Today I've gone with dark jeans, dark brown strappy sandals, and a loose coral blouse. My hair is in a neater-than-usual bun on top of my head.

"Oh hello, Jacey! How are you dear?"

I grin. "Hey Judith. I'm great. And you?"

She gives me a smile and tells me that she's "just peachy."

Not many teenagers around here work at big department stores like I do, but I like that. I feel like I'm around real people- both my co-workers and the customers- rather than a bunch of rowdy teenagers and pre-teens.

My mind wanders back to one time early last school year. I was in Victoria's Secret buying, you know, lady necessities, when a bunch of 12 or 13 year old girls walked in giggling. They headed towards the bras.

One of the girls, who was clearly barely developed, picked up a lace push-up bra, shoving at her boobs (if you could call them that) and wondered aloud to her friends, as well as everyone else around, "Do you think this is my size?"

It was no where close to her size.

She bought it anyway, paying the cashier in one dollar bills and quarters.

That was the day I vowed to myself I would never work somewhere I'd have to deal with anyone remotely close to my age on a daily basis. It's how I ended up here.

I was the youngest person (as far as I knew) working at Macy's. I enjoyed that.

Judith instructed me that I needed to re-rack all of the clothes from the dressing rooms. As she told me this I studied her face, wrinkled with time. She was more like a grandmother to me rather than one of my managers.

I remember when I first started work here. She was teaching me how to do returns and telling me all about herself while she did it. She told me everything you could ever want to know. Except her age.

A few months later, I was already really comfortable around Judith. I was thinking about her age, guessing at what it could be. I remember thinking that she was probably a lot older than she looked.

And of course, being silly me, I accidentally blurted it at her when we were at a slow point, with nobody checking out.

"Judith, what's your age?" I looked up as I said it, my eyes going wide. I clamped my hand over my mouth while she just chuckled. She didn't mind me asking.

"I'm forty-eight."

Now that was a lie if I ever heard one.

I pull the full clothing rack from the dressing room towards the swimsuit section. When I work in the swimsuits is the only time I really ever even possibly come into contact with a teenager. Not many teens shop here, and if they do, it's in the juniors, beauty, or shoe department.

It doesn't take long to re-rack all the clothes. Once I finish, I take on an empty register next to Judith.

She tries to make small talk with the woman she's ringing up, but she takes no interest. She talks to me instead.

"Guess what this Friday is!" She's giddy, like a child.

I think about it. When I can't think of anything, I joke around a little.

"Mmm... You're 50th birthday?" This causes the woman in front of us, who has a mile high pile of clothing, to raise her eyebrows a little. Judith winks at her.

"Close! It's my 50th wedding anniversary!"

Wow! So she's probably at least 70 something.

"Really? That's great, Judith!"

"Yeah, it really is," she has this dreamy looks in her eyes. "Got married when I was 23. I fall in love all over again with him every day."

This makes me tear up a little, seeing how happy she is. It's then I realize that she is 73 years old!

Upon telling her this, after the lady left, she closes her eyes with a smile and shrugs.

Before she can say anything, I exclaim "Judith, I can't believe you're 73! You don't look a day over 60!" I mean it. She could easily pass for a 60 year old.

She just smiles.

"Love keeps you young."

•••••
I kind of hate myself for not updating in like 6 months but oh well. I'm probably the only person who reads it anyway. -Claire