"Get in loser we're going shopping!" I hear Tara call out from outside, followed by a loud beep. Peering out of my window, through the battered curtains, I spot her seated in her car, the convertible roof pulled down. Amidst all the chaos, Tara rolls down her window, letting me have a better look at her sultry black eyeshadow and the silky, patterned handkerchief tied around her neck. Always causing a scene, this one.
Luckily, my mom left earlier this morning, so I don't have to come up with an excuse as to why I'm gone. As quick as possible, lace up my high-top Converses, grab my keys and head out the door. My apartment complex is empty, leaving me enough room to hurry down the stairwell and out the garage, where Tara is parked in front. Sunlight pours from the sky in strings.
"Mean Girls," I drawl, shielding my face from the blinding ultraviolet beams with my hand. "Funny how that movie title can double as an accurate description of your personality."
"What's even funnier is that you still tolerate me." Tara puts her red heart-shaped sunglasses sliding down her nose bridge on her forehead. "Ready?"
"As I'll ever be," I reply, grinning ear to ear, tugging on the sleek golden handle, slipping into the seat next to her.
Beaming, she switches on the ignition, heading down the road towards a stop sign. Her hair waves in the wind, and she somehow manages to make it look effortlessly model-esque, while I'm furiously trying to keep the stray strands around my low bun out of my mouth. It's hard to complain though, because the view is unbeatable. Cape Bedford might be a small gated community, but it's home to some of the most extravagant sunsets and beaches in the midwest.
During the drive, I have complete control over the radio, though I oblige to her pleas of playing The Beach Boys from her very own playlist. Hands firmly gripping the wheel, she screams the lyrics out off pitch, taking advantage of the red lights to head bop furiously. All the while, I pretend to cover my ears to block out her horrid singing, but I can't suppress a small smile. With her by my side, I finally feel like I belong. I don't think anyone (hell, even I didn't) think we'd be such close friends. We're so different. Practically bred from alternate dimensions. She's everything I'm not—beautiful, confident, and rich. But here we are, differences pushed aside, making stupid jokes and poking fun at each other as if we've known the other for a lifetime.
Tara parks in front of Marley's, an expensive and exclusive dress shop near the outskirts of town. The front of the shop is painted a soft cotton candy color, and the neon sign is a deep red. Pink roses decorate the golden plaques, spiral white columns, and balcony bars. Inside, a collection of high fashion pieces are lined up on the racks according to size, the newest additions hung on mannequins that are featured on the window display. A bell chimes when we enter.
"You have an idea of what you want?" Tara asks me, already looking through a section of lacey white dresses.
I shrug. "I don't know. Something that fits, I guess."
"Wow, how detailed and well thought out," she says monotonously, already putting a dress around her elbow as a possible candidate.
"I don't do this often, so I don't know what looks good on me," I reply, though I do think finding something that fits perfectly is already hard to find in the first place. Especially with how varied women's sizing is.
"Why don't you wear a traditional cultural dress?" she suggests, feeling the material of one of the more expensive pieces. The tulle skirt bunches in her palm.
"Like a qipao?" I ask, confused.
She nods. "I feel like it'll look good on you. Besides, you'd stand out, in a good way."
YOU ARE READING
your best american girl ✓
Teen FictionLeighanna Chua has always struggled to fit in. Left feeling disconnected between her suburban community and her own identity, she's determined to prove that she belongs. But when Hunter D'Medici, a boy who embodies the very essence of privilege, off...
