rooms holding mounds of clothing items—new, trendy clothes that she couldn’t afford. They looked so eager, so happy to be trying on something new, coming out of the rooms in their shirts and dresses to stand in front of the large three-way mirror. They would scrutinize themselves, turn around and examine their bodies from all angles, say stupid things like, “God, I’m so fat!” when they were really the prettiest, luckiest girls Clara had ever seen.
Clara looked at the dresses draped over her arm and scowled. She walked towards the girls to hang them up on the rack.
“Oh my God. Tell me you’re carrying a size 0,” one of the girls said.
“Um, I don’t know. Let’s see,” Clara replied. She flipped through the dresses, and sure enough, there was a size 0. She pulled it out for the petite brunette.
“Oh my God! Oh my God! I fucking love you!” she squealed holding up the dress. “Isn’t this the most gorgeous dress you’ve ever seen? I mean, not like evening wear gorgeous, but looking-hot-at-school gorgeous.”
Clara nodded as she hung the rest of the dresses on the rack.
“Oh my God. There’s no way Evan won’t notice me now,” she continued. “Bye bye weird girl in the cafeteria. Hello sexy,” she said laughing.
Her friend nudged her hard. “Ouch!” she said irritably. “What the hell?”
Her friend motioned to Clara who had moved on to another rack but could hear every word. “That’s the weird girl,” her friend whispered.
“Huh?” the petite brunette replied. She looked over at Clara, her eyes going wide with recognition, her mouth turning up in a nasty grin. “Oh. My. God.”
“Come on, let’s go,” her friend urged, taking the brunette by the arm.
“Get off!” the brunette snapped, yanking her arm away.
“Brittany, don’t.”
“Don’t what?” Brittany asked following Clara to the dressing rooms.
“I’d like to try this on,” she said to Clara who stood at the entrance organizing stacks of clothes.
“Sure, go ahead,” Clara replied.
Brittany started walking towards an available room then stopped abruptly and turned around. “What did you and Evan talk about at lunch the other day?”
Clara looked at her confused. “I’m sorry?”
“You know. At lunch,” Brittany said. “When you paid him to walk over to you to talk to your sorry ass. What did you end up talking about? Or were you just pretending to talk? And how much did you pay him?”
Clara was dumbstruck.
Brittany strolled over to Clara and stood within inches of her.
“He would never ever in a million years touch you. So try for somebody more in your league, okay?” she said. “A nobody, like you.” She dropped the dress on the floor at Clara’s feet. “I’ve changed my mind about this dress. It’s ugly. I don’t want it.” And she walked out of the dressing room breezily, her friend following behind.
Clara could hear the friend say, “God, Brittany. You’re such a fucking bitch.”
“Whatever” was the reply.
Clara bent down to pick up the dress. She held it up, looking it over, thinking that there was no way Brittany thought it was ugly. She just wanted to drop it at Clara’s feet because she knew Clara would have to bend down to retrieve it. She was one of those girls who enjoyed seeing other people bend down to pick things up that she threw at them.
Clara’s school was filled with girls like Brittany, and she couldn’t understand why girls who appeared to have everything—good looks, pretty clothes, nice cars—were so mean. Clara thought that if she had those things she would be the happiest girl in the world, and the world would know it because she would be kind to it.
She was only semi-aware of the tears running down her cheeks. She walked to the three-way mirror and wiped at her face, taking deep breaths and trying for control. She felt mildly angry with herself for allowing someone like Brittany to hurt her feelings, but she was sensitive. And she thought that
Clara looked at the dresses draped over her arm and scowled. She walked towards the girls to hang them up on the rack.
“Oh my God. Tell me you’re carrying a size 0,” one of the girls said.
“Um, I don’t know. Let’s see,” Clara replied. She flipped through the dresses, and sure enough, there was a size 0. She pulled it out for the petite brunette.
“Oh my God! Oh my God! I fucking love you!” she squealed holding up the dress. “Isn’t this the most gorgeous dress you’ve ever seen? I mean, not like evening wear gorgeous, but looking-hot-at-school gorgeous.”
Clara nodded as she hung the rest of the dresses on the rack.
“Oh my God. There’s no way Evan won’t notice me now,” she continued. “Bye bye weird girl in the cafeteria. Hello sexy,” she said laughing.
Her friend nudged her hard. “Ouch!” she said irritably. “What the hell?”
Her friend motioned to Clara who had moved on to another rack but could hear every word. “That’s the weird girl,” her friend whispered.
“Huh?” the petite brunette replied. She looked over at Clara, her eyes going wide with recognition, her mouth turning up in a nasty grin. “Oh. My. God.”
“Come on, let’s go,” her friend urged, taking the brunette by the arm.
“Get off!” the brunette snapped, yanking her arm away.
“Brittany, don’t.”
“Don’t what?” Brittany asked following Clara to the dressing rooms.
“I’d like to try this on,” she said to Clara who stood at the entrance organizing stacks of clothes.
“Sure, go ahead,” Clara replied.
Brittany started walking towards an available room then stopped abruptly and turned around. “What did you and Evan talk about at lunch the other day?”
Clara looked at her confused. “I’m sorry?”
“You know. At lunch,” Brittany said. “When you paid him to walk over to you to talk to your sorry ass. What did you end up talking about? Or were you just pretending to talk? And how much did you pay him?”
Clara was dumbstruck.
Brittany strolled over to Clara and stood within inches of her.
“He would never ever in a million years touch you. So try for somebody more in your league, okay?” she said. “A nobody, like you.” She dropped the dress on the floor at Clara’s feet. “I’ve changed my mind about this dress. It’s ugly. I don’t want it.” And she walked out of the dressing room breezily, her friend following behind.
Clara could hear the friend say, “God, Brittany. You’re such a fucking bitch.”
“Whatever” was the reply.
Clara bent down to pick up the dress. She held it up, looking it over, thinking that there was no way Brittany thought it was ugly. She just wanted to drop it at Clara’s feet because she knew Clara would have to bend down to retrieve it. She was one of those girls who enjoyed seeing other people bend down to pick things up that she threw at them.
Clara’s school was filled with girls like Brittany, and she couldn’t understand why girls who appeared to have everything—good looks, pretty clothes, nice cars—were so mean. Clara thought that if she had those things she would be the happiest girl in the world, and the world would know it because she would be kind to it.
She was only semi-aware of the tears running down her cheeks. She walked to the three-way mirror and wiped at her face, taking deep breaths and trying for control. She felt mildly angry with herself for allowing someone like Brittany to hurt her feelings, but she was sensitive. And she thought that
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