Read Online Who Needs Magic? by Kathy McCullough - Free Book Online
Authors: Kathy McCullough
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primarily the preschool/kindergarten set, and there
are
plenty of little girls running around, squealing in delight. But there are a terrifying number of older girls too. Some even older than me.
Ariella returns the earrings and tries on a thick wooden bracelet painted green with white polka dots. “I know green’s not your normal princess color. It used to be a preppy store a long time ago, but it evolved.” She holds out her arm to admire the bracelet. “Green’s nice to have as an accent, though. They could use a little baby blue too, if you ask me.”
A mix of floral and fruity scents, gardenia and pink grapefruit, swirls in the air, and a pop ballad plays oh-so-faintly from hidden speakers, low enough so you can’t hear the lyrics and be distracted, but loud enough to pulse an electro-funk feel-good “buy buy buy” vibe throughout the store, which seems to be working on Ariella.
“Ariella! Don’t you look adorable! Let me see that jacket.” Ariella does a half spin for a pink-frocked employee whose name tag identifies her as Sapphire and who applied a little too much lilac-frost eye shadow this morning. “I was just saying to Helen, ‘We haven’t seen Ariella P. in a while.’ Wasn’t I?” Sapphire calls the question over to a weary-looking older employee who’s rehanging an armload of mini-sweaters in the toddler section.
“Oh, yes. Hi, Ariella!” Helen waves to Ariella, her weariness lifting for a moment into the same genuinely happy smile Sapphire wears. They actually know Ariella’s name. She must drop a lot of doubloons in here, or whatever the official princess currency is.
“Are you finding everything all right?” Sapphire asks, casting a dubious look my way, having finally noticed me.
“Yes, thanks,” Ariella says. “This is my friend Delaney.” Sapphire gives me a veiled once-over, clearly put off by my completely pastel-free, princess-free look. “We’re just looking around.”
“Okay, let me know if you need any help.”
“Thanks!” Ariella leans over toward me as soon as Sapphire moves away, and whispers conspiratorially, “I have a member’s card.” Of course she does. “I get a ten percent discount on everything. So pick out whatever you want and I’ll buy it and you can pay me back.”
“I’ll say it again, since you’re obviously lost in a pink haze: ‘Um. No way.’ ”
“Come on, Delaney. There are boots!”
“Yeah, I saw them.” One pair. Pink plastic rain boots with yellow daisies on them. “I’m not three years old.”
“Those would be too big for a three-year-old,” Ariella replies, completely missing the point. The air in here is definitely numbing her brain cells.
She leads me over to a wall where the “New Summer Fashions!” clothes are displayed.
“Just try a couple of things on. See if they make you feel any different.” Ariella grabs a pine-green sweater off a hanger and holds it out to me with a green-and-pink-striped headband.
I fold my arms, tight. “Do you mean different as in ‘my blood cells are already messed up from being caught in this princess vortex, but if I let any of this stuff touch my body, I’ll turn totally toxic’? That kind of different?”
“That”
—Ariella swings the sweater at me in an effort to wave off my negativity—“is exactly what I’m talking about.”
I could argue more, but it feels like a show-don’t-tell moment is called for, so I grab the sweater and tug it on over my shirt. I snatch the headband and shove it onto my head. I was joking, but they actually do feel radioactive. I catch a glimpse of myself in one of the floor-length mirrors that bracket the clothing racks. I’m surprised the glass doesn’t shatter in protest at the unnatural image it’s been forced to reflect.
Ariella takes a couple of steps back and studies me.“No. It’s not working.” Big surprise. I keep the sarcasm to myself, as hard as this is to do. Ariella circles me, to get all angles. “You’re
are
plenty of little girls running around, squealing in delight. But there are a terrifying number of older girls too. Some even older than me.
Ariella returns the earrings and tries on a thick wooden bracelet painted green with white polka dots. “I know green’s not your normal princess color. It used to be a preppy store a long time ago, but it evolved.” She holds out her arm to admire the bracelet. “Green’s nice to have as an accent, though. They could use a little baby blue too, if you ask me.”
A mix of floral and fruity scents, gardenia and pink grapefruit, swirls in the air, and a pop ballad plays oh-so-faintly from hidden speakers, low enough so you can’t hear the lyrics and be distracted, but loud enough to pulse an electro-funk feel-good “buy buy buy” vibe throughout the store, which seems to be working on Ariella.
“Ariella! Don’t you look adorable! Let me see that jacket.” Ariella does a half spin for a pink-frocked employee whose name tag identifies her as Sapphire and who applied a little too much lilac-frost eye shadow this morning. “I was just saying to Helen, ‘We haven’t seen Ariella P. in a while.’ Wasn’t I?” Sapphire calls the question over to a weary-looking older employee who’s rehanging an armload of mini-sweaters in the toddler section.
“Oh, yes. Hi, Ariella!” Helen waves to Ariella, her weariness lifting for a moment into the same genuinely happy smile Sapphire wears. They actually know Ariella’s name. She must drop a lot of doubloons in here, or whatever the official princess currency is.
“Are you finding everything all right?” Sapphire asks, casting a dubious look my way, having finally noticed me.
“Yes, thanks,” Ariella says. “This is my friend Delaney.” Sapphire gives me a veiled once-over, clearly put off by my completely pastel-free, princess-free look. “We’re just looking around.”
“Okay, let me know if you need any help.”
“Thanks!” Ariella leans over toward me as soon as Sapphire moves away, and whispers conspiratorially, “I have a member’s card.” Of course she does. “I get a ten percent discount on everything. So pick out whatever you want and I’ll buy it and you can pay me back.”
“I’ll say it again, since you’re obviously lost in a pink haze: ‘Um. No way.’ ”
“Come on, Delaney. There are boots!”
“Yeah, I saw them.” One pair. Pink plastic rain boots with yellow daisies on them. “I’m not three years old.”
“Those would be too big for a three-year-old,” Ariella replies, completely missing the point. The air in here is definitely numbing her brain cells.
She leads me over to a wall where the “New Summer Fashions!” clothes are displayed.
“Just try a couple of things on. See if they make you feel any different.” Ariella grabs a pine-green sweater off a hanger and holds it out to me with a green-and-pink-striped headband.
I fold my arms, tight. “Do you mean different as in ‘my blood cells are already messed up from being caught in this princess vortex, but if I let any of this stuff touch my body, I’ll turn totally toxic’? That kind of different?”
“That”
—Ariella swings the sweater at me in an effort to wave off my negativity—“is exactly what I’m talking about.”
I could argue more, but it feels like a show-don’t-tell moment is called for, so I grab the sweater and tug it on over my shirt. I snatch the headband and shove it onto my head. I was joking, but they actually do feel radioactive. I catch a glimpse of myself in one of the floor-length mirrors that bracket the clothing racks. I’m surprised the glass doesn’t shatter in protest at the unnatural image it’s been forced to reflect.
Ariella takes a couple of steps back and studies me.“No. It’s not working.” Big surprise. I keep the sarcasm to myself, as hard as this is to do. Ariella circles me, to get all angles. “You’re
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