The Girl Who Lives In My Garage • Jenlisa

five

The weekend passes with numerous naps, zero homework, and a cosmic bowling event Chaeyoung dragged me to that ended up as lame as the shoes we were forced to wear. On Sunday, Chaeyoung texts me before noon- an hour I wasn't sure existed on the weekend- and asks if I want to go to the mall. We haven't been shopping in forever, and I have some leftover birthday money to spend.

After one tiny lie about finishing my schoolwork, Mom agrees to my shopping plan, because how much trouble could I get in the mall?

She wouldn't like the answer to the question.

I sit outside with my hands shoved in my jacket pockets while I wait for Irene unnie's van to pull up. Irene is a senior at the private school a few miles down the road from my house. We met at a party few months ago, where Chaeyoung immediately befriended her because she has: 1, a car, 2, an older sister who purchase alcohol for us, and 3, a working fake ID.

Chaeyoung was using Irene unnie at first, but it didn't take long for her to become more than a source of alcohol. She became someone who laughs at our dumb inside jokes. Who sticks up for us when someone else treats us like shit. A friend. I feel bad for Irene unnie. She gets made fun of because she's short we aren't tall either well except for Chaeyoung she's one giant bitch right here. and also because her family doesn't have as much money as the rich snobs who make up the rest of her school's population. It's good that she has us to stick up for her, too.

The sound of Irene unnie's van reaches my ears before I see it coming down the street. It's the kind of van with few enough windows to make you wonder if there's a dead body or a child molester in the back. Though I don't know exactly what year it is, it's old enough to only have seatbelts for the front seats. Irene unnie claims that she likes the muffler-challenged van, that it has more character than the flashy new cars her classmates drive, but really it's the only vehicle she and her family could afford.

Chaeyoung is in the passenger seat, so I climb in the back. It smells like McDonalds French Fries with a hint of cigarette smoke. The van's stereo system- if it can be called that- is broken as well, so there's no music to drown out the sound of the muffler. "Hey," I say, pushing clothes and papers out of my way.

"Hey," Irene unnie says backs out of my driveway. She's wearing jeans and hoodie with her brown hair in a ponytail. Her school has a strict dress code, so she dresses for comfort on the weekends. Even when we go to parties, she doesn't bother with nice clothes or makeup.

"Hola, chica," Chaeyoung says. Unlike Irene unnie, comfort is the furthest thing from Chaeyoung's mind. The mall is an opportune place to meet guys, so she's wearing dark jeans and a tight, long-sleeve shirt that shows off her ample cleavage. As usual, she's not wearing a coat.My mall-shopping wardrobe falls somewhere in between the two: jeans, a scoop neck T, not quite as revealing as Chaeyoung's, and Uggs. I was going to wear my heels, but I haven't forgiven them after my drunken clumsiness on Thursday night. My ankles still hurt.

Rosé(Chaeyoung) turns so she's facing me and pats me and pats the curls around her shoulders, "Hair up or down?"

The smell of the get she used to scrunch her hair into tight ringlets is strong. I'm jealous of her curls and think they're too pretty to shove into a ponytail holder, so I say, "Down." Rosé nods and turns back towards the front of the van.

"That's what I told her two minutes ago, but she didn't listen," Irene unnie says as she turn left out of my subdivision and onto the main road. Rosé smacks Irene unnie on the arm, and she protests with a laugh and an "ouch."

"I'm allowed to get more than one opinion," Rosé says.

"True, but you never listen to what I gave to say. Like bowling last night. I told you it was going to suck, but did you listen? No. You went anyway. And what happened, Jennie?" she asks as she glances in the rear view mirror. Her eyes are pretty, but sing too far into her face. Someday I'll teach her how to use eyeliner to highlight her eyes and blush to bring her cheekbones.