PB Teen

The Only Thing Harder Than Picking Out the Right Dress, is Picking Out the Right Shoes

"I really can't decide," Kit Brent mused, holding two different stilettos for friends Gigi Fawkes and Sarah Montgomery to put forth their opinions on. Out of the dozens of über-expensive designer shoes that the Worth Avenue Neiman Marcus had, Kit could only settle on two pairs that she actually liked.

Kit sighed, and held them up and down like a scale. In her right hand, a metallic gold Manolo Blahnik Napa Mid-Heel Halter hung by its strap in her long, thin fingers, and in the other, she held a striking Christian Louboutin Suede Metallic-Square Pump.

"If only we were at the New York store, I'd have a better selection," Kit said through gritted teeth, loud enough for a passing saleslady to cringe at.

Sarah tapped the leather couch in the ladies' shoe department that she and Gigi were lounging on. She sat up and stretched her petite frame, stiff from the two hours it took Kit to realize that she disliked the majority of shoes that the department store offered.

"I think the Manolos would go better with the green Diane von Furstenberg dress we picked out," Sarah offered, brushing back her straight brown hair.

"Possibly," Gigi chimed in, "but gold with that emerald green? Je n'amie pas."

"Sarah, we've been over this," Kit said, sounding hopeless as she dropped both shoes on the carpet. "That dress makes me want to vomit. Just like it's color," she added with a sinister flash of her perfectly white teeth. "I'm going to wear the scarlet Zac Posen dress or the Versace one."

"Yeah, I love those too," Sarah answered sounding slightly breathless as though she were going to cry. But she held back any possible tears with a brimming smile to show her support in her friend's ultimate decision.

"But I do agree, the Manolos are better." She kicked aside the Louboutin and reached down to pick up her choice. She looked it over and summoned a saleslady, the one she sneered at, but there was no sign of anger in the woman's face. Only fear.

"You have these in my size, right?" Kit asked the women in her usual slightly annoyed tone, piercing her with her eyes. The woman knew her shoe size, considering the number of shoes Kit tried on prior to finding these.

"Of course, Miss. The woman answered briskly, hurrying off in the direction of the store room.

Gigi, having got up from her cat-like position on the couch padded over to the discarded Louboutin and slipped it on her bare foot.

"I think I like these ones," she said to Kit, who was presently looking at her Blackberry.

Kit turned to her. "You can get them if you want," before adding, "but they look rather clunky on you."

Without another word, Gigi quickly slipped the shoe off and left it where she found it. "Kit knows best," Kit heard her friend mutter repeatedly under her breath.

She turned back to her phone and smiled. I DO know best.That was the reason people liked, even loved her. She was an attractive vixen with good taste, style, and composure.

She had long wavy hair and deep brown eyes that searched many a face, deciding whether they fit her requirements to be acknowledged by her and her vixen brood- Gigi, Sarah, and other girls she was often seen with but not they were not important enough to go shopping or offer their opinion on clothing that was lucky enough to drape the body of Miss Kit Brent.

Plus, the two girls with her now were pretty enough to follow her but weak enough to be pushed around at her desire. Kit loved being on top. And in more ways than one.

She would never treat Bree like she treated them when shopping, but then again Bree is, well, Bree. The most popular girl in school, the one she idolized herself. Idolized and evied. But Kit knew that someday she would be the most popular. She just knew it.

While the striking image of her best friend flickered in her head, she realized that she needed to call Bree to invite her to her party tonight.

Kit scrolled through her favorites list until she reached Bree's number. Of course, she knew it by heart, and had known it since they both got a phone in sixth grade, but it fed her ego to look for her number as well as not putting it on the top of her list. That spot was reserved for one person only: her adorably gorgeous boyfriend Chance.

She and Chance were the top couple at St. Xavier's, and he had been homecoming king with Bree, even though he had been her date. He was not only handsome but the star of many a sports team and the boy equivialent of Bree: blonde, tall, and handsome. What girl wouldn't want him then? Exactly.

And he had chosen her over Bree, and that made her love him even more. Though she did have something to do with it.

When Bree didn't pick up, she left a short voicemail threatening her to come to her party. The threat part was a joke, of course but she was completely serious about the invitation. Kit understood that she was missing here now, and wished that she was help trying on shoes with her instead of those two nimrods. Just as she finished her voicemail, the frightened saleslady returned with her size in the Manolos. The woman smiled fakely and offered to show her to the checkout.

"No. Its okay. I've been here before."

As Kit headed out of the shoe department, she dragged behind not only her new Louis Vuittion purse but Sarah and Gigi also. When they saw her start to leave, they got up from whatever they were doing and followed Kit like faithful lambs follow their German Sheppard guardian.

Not that Kit would ever want to be compared to a dog. Especially a vicious one, but it was the truth. It was like a magnetic pull they had to her, and wherever she went, they went.

"But Kit, we haven't gotten our shoes yet," Gigi whined from behind her, looking longingly at a pair of Steve Maddens.

"Don't care," she answered snarkly, "be creative."

"Gigi's right," Sarah began, but Kit cut her off, heading towards the checkout counter with her brand new shoes.

"Well Sarah, you could always just wear the vomit dress. I mean, it is your color."

"Bitch," Sarah growled quietly, not believing Kit would hear her.

"Thanks, I'd rather be that than a regurgitated club salad," Kit replied, pulling her American express card from her Faragamo wallet.

She noticed Sarah fuming behind her, and she let out a giggle. She flipped out her phone again and tried Chance's number. The automated female voice told her that the line was busy and to try later or leave a message. Who could he possibly be talking to that is more important that me? In Kit's mind, there was no answer to that question.

"Come now, girls," she summoned her minions, and together they strutted out of the store.