Courage

Chapter Five

[Francesca]

I drove Maya and I to the mall. The car ride was silent, but comfortable. Maya didn't ask me to play music or anything, not that I would've played the song she would've asked me to play, anyways.

Five designer stores later, I could tell Maya was exhausted. But I could also tell that she wasn't going to say anything about it.

"How do I look?" I asked Maya while admiring the sunglasses on my face. Maya was admiring the other designer accessories in the store.

"Nice, I like it." She gave me a tight-lipped smile.

"This is fifty millionth time you've said that."

"Well, you really do look really nice."

"Nice, is that the only term you know to describe how someone looks?"

She chuckled. "You look very beautiful in those sunglasses."

All my life, I've always been called beautiful. However, Maya calling me beautiful was different; I felt blood rushing up to my face.

Today Maya was wearing high-waisted jeans, a green turtleneck tucked into her jeans, and black Doc Martens. Scanning her outfit made me curious about the way she dressed. In high school we wore uniform so I never really saw her in anything that wasn't a blazer, vest, or pleated skirt.

"What's your style?" I asked her.

"Um, I wear jeans a lot and hoodies and t-shirts."

"You like to cover up."

"Precisely, yeah. But I also like pleated skirts. When I go to parties I either wear jeans or a dress, but that's kinda rare. I like your style, though, it's sophisticated and . . . sexy . . . at the same time."

"I like tweed mini dresses that go over blouses, tight mini dresses, plaid skirts, not the goth-like kind, silk gowns. Trench coats, heels, and thigh high boots."

"Fancy," she muttered. "You kind of dress like Fran Fine."

"I do get style inspiration from her," I admitted.

I thought about what Maya would look like if she dressed like me while I paid for the sunglasses.

I led her to another store. I noticed she'd look down or pull her sweater over her hands whenever we'd pass men. A boy, standing by a store, who looked to be in high school, whistled as we passed.

"Wanna give me some of that!" he catcalled.

"Go play in traffic!" I turned back at him and retorted. He looked caught off guard by my comment. I turned back around, I could see in my peripheral that Maya was still looking down.

"Have you never been catcalled?" I asked.

"I have, lots of times. I just ignore it, or at least I try to ignore it," she answered.

So she just lets men say whatever they want to her, and she doesn't retaliate? Maybe it has something to do with the kind of people she was raised around, perhaps she was taught to ignore people who yell obscenities at her.

"Why?" I demanded.

"Because there's really no point in arguing."

"It's not arguing, it's defending yourself. There's a difference."

"Defending yourself leads to arguments. I think it's best to just stay quiet and ignore it."

She's so weak. Why is she like that? Why does she allow herself to be this weak person? Why does someone else's vulnerability affect me? Why does her vulnerability irk me?

I kind of want to test her now, just boss her around. See how far she'll go and when is enough enough for her. No, that's mean. I won't do it. I was too caught up in my thoughts that I hadn't even noticed the group of young girls coming up to me with their phones out.

"Can we have a picture?" one of the girls entreated.

"No, not today, sorry." My apology didn't sound the slightest bit sincere, I know that now.

"Please," another girl begged and bounced up and down a little.

"No means no, beautiful, sorry." I shrugged. Before I could walk off I was surprised by the sound of a camera flicking and flash, it came from a girl with freckles' phone. She gave me a nervous smile when I looked at her.

"Little bitch," I snapped, and pushed her phone out of her hand onto the marble floor. "What is the matter with you?"

"Francesca!" Maya whispered.

"Annabelle, did you get that on video?" one of the girls muttered to her friend.

"Yeah, record that, Annabelle," I said, still glaring at the freckled girl picking up her phone.

My wrist was then grabbed roughly, forcing me to walk away from the fan girls and the people surrounding us. Maya was pulling me away.

"What are you doing?" I asked her.

"What am I doing? What the hell was that?" she demanded.

"That girl took a picture of me without my consent."

"So? People are going to take pictures, you're a celebrity."

"I'm also a person, not a caged animal at a zoo exhibit. Celebrity or not, how would you feel if someone asked you for a picture and when you tell them no they still take one?"

"V—Violated," she stammered.

"Exactly." I was too angry to talk. Though it's not like Maya would prompt me anymore.