City Life for Country Girls

Step Four: Survive Shopping and Supper

        I am so bad at keeping my own promises.

        Two days later, I found myself standing in the middle of a nameless mall out of the house shopping for nameless things.

        Okay, not nameless things -- pointless things.

        “I still don’t see the point of this, Aunt Arabelle,” I repeated for the hundredth time. “I have clothes and they’re perfectly fine! You shouldn’t spend your money on this.”

        Aunt Arabelle rolled her eyes in reply. “We’ve already gone through this, Scar. You need new clothes. What you have now won’t cut it in public. Wyatt and Weston’s leftovers?” She made a face.

        “Hey! They’re super-comfortable!” I defended, hugging the huge cotton T-shirt that I had on at the moment. “And they’re fine! Wyatt and Weston wore them and wear similar things now in public in their university!”

        My aunt sighed as if talking to someone extraordinarily dense. “That’s the point -- Wyatt and Weston wear them. You’re not Wyatt or Weston. You’re Scarlett, a beautiful young lady, not man. That’s where the issue lies. I’m your aunt, and I’ve found a sale. And we’re buying these.”

        I huffed. “Big deal. Same thing. I still think this is completely unnecessary.”

        “What you think does not matter at this point because we’re getting you a new wardrobe either way. You need to show your brothers when they visit. Now go try them on.” She flapped her hands in the general direction of the dressing rooms.

        Grumbling under my breath the entire way, I grabbed the pile of pointless crap--whoops I mean clothes--to a dressing room and went inside, locking the door. Even the dressing room was fancy--the walls extended upwards, but they didn’t quite reach the ceiling. The door was a chestnut-stained pine, and small slits served as ventilation.

        I dumped my pile of fabric onto the little cushion in the corner of the room and pulled out a blue top. Slipping quickly out of my T-shirt, I struggled with the blue top and looked in the mirror.

        Hey, I looked the same. Whoo. Opening the door, I called for Aunt Arabelle, who gasped and praised and shot “I told you” at me. She whisked away to go find more clothes, and I groaned. This was going to be one long day.

    The city scenes of people walking and cars honking in the shadows of tall, historic buildings looked like a movie through the car window. The frame stayed exactly the same. We weren’t moving at all. Aimee grabbed my hand again, pointing at a guy spinning a cardboard arrow.

    “Look, he’s so cool!” Aimee fawned. “I want to do stuff like that...”

    “It is cool, but I don’t think you want to stand in the heat all day,” I laughed. My phone buzzed, and I pulled it out to check for messages.

        West: we’re here where u b

        Wy: hurry up scar

         I quickly typed a reply and relayed my brother’s whereabouts to Uncle Jesse.

        Aunt Arabelle pouted, fixing her makeup in the car mirror. “Seriously, Jesse. I told you to leave earlier. You know how the traffic is here.” As if on cue, the car began to move, and Uncle Jesse offered Aunt Arabelle a smug smirk.