A Collection of Short/Long Stories I've Written;

Becoming Ronnie: 5.

“I don’t know why you ever bring yourself down, Veronica, you’re pretty.”

“Yeah,” I snorted, “pretty ugly.”

My sister smacked me over the head.

“Hey!” I cried. “What did you do that for?”

“I don’t expect that negative attitude from you!”

“I can do what I like, thank you very much.” I mumbled before turning around, back to the changing rooms.

“Where are you going?” My sister asked.

“I’m getting changed. Why?”

“You haven’t even looked in the mirror yet!”

“I don’t want to look in the mirror.” I replied, although in honesty, part of me did want to see what I looked like. One thing I knew for sure, this outfit certainly wasn’t a cashmere sweater and straight-legged trousers – items I lived in.

“Tough,” my sister replied before hooking her finger through the loop of the jeans. “You are looking in the mirror, Veronica.”

Before I could protest further, I was standing in-front of the mirror. Although my face was clear of make-up and my hair was up in a neat ponytail – it was now slightly wet and curled at the ends – I looked like an improved version of myself.

The jeans were a light blue, they had rips going along the legs, and a floral pattern was sewn in underneath, so even though you could see skin, my legs weren’t bare. I was wearing a navy blue vest-t, a white scarf and a leather jacket. My sister had picked out some brown boots, with a light, creamed coloured heel.

“See, I told you, you look pretty.”

I smiled begrudgingly, aware that I couldn’t disagree. “Thanks.”

“Now… do you want to try on anything else? Or shall we just chuck loads of things into the basket and sort it all out later?”

I wasn’t comfortable with choosing things, especially if, normally, I’d never even look at them in normal circumstances, so I decided straight away that my sister should just chuck everything she felt like buying for me into the basket and quickly get out.

“See,” Demi said, “It wasn’t that bad. Was it?”

“I suppose not,” I mumbled. I was standing at the checkout, next to my sister. 

The man who was meant to be running everything through the till kept checking my sister out, so it took twice as long. I stood patiently with my hands clasped together in front of me and my back straight whilst my sister leaned against the check-out’s desk.

“Is there anything else I can help you with?” The young boy asked.

“No, thank you.” I said quickly, taking the bags from him as he smiled at my sister.

“Looks like that will be everything, thanks.” My sister shrugged, grinning at him before hooking her arm through mine. “Come on, we’ve still got lots to do…” she said as she dragged me out of the store.

“What?”

“Tip one,” My sister said, ignoring me, “Don’t ever stand like you did in that shop.”

“Why?” I whined. “Would you rather I slumped on the counter like you?”

“I don’t care,” my sister replied. “So long as you relax, don’t worry about having a straight posture, no-one cares anymore, that’s why we have chiropractors.”