Caught In The Boys Locker Room

Chapter Twenty: Scardy-Pants Returns

This time as I marched up to the pet shops doors that were sparkling in the afternoon sunlight, I decided to use the tactic of entering the doom that lived just beyond it— that is, Chase— as if I were ripping off a band-aid. And, hopefully, avoid any more unpleasant humiliation in front of Anthony.

I, of course, didn't let my mind wander off to thoughts about last night and everything that happened with Chase. I didn't think about the way he had looked at me, held my face so gently, kissed my cheek so softly— like there was something he needed, wanted to tell me, but simply couldn't for whatever reason and instead tried to communicate it to me through action.

No, of course not. I hadn't thought about that at all. Not one bit.

And I definitely didn't stay up all night wondering why my stomach wouldn't stop fluttering, and why my cheeks wouldn't cool down because of those certain thoughts that I definitely didn't have at all.

Nope. Definitely, definitely not.

So, as I pushed the doors wide open with determination, triumph, and feeling accomplished for not coming up with an excuse to stay home today, I wasn't prepared for all the startled stares around the store. And particularly, the poor old lady holding a little white-haired Chihuahua to the side of the door who'd let out a loud, surprised yelp.

Mortified and realizing I might have used just a little too much of my triumphant power when shoving the doors open, my cheeks flushed. Clasping my hands together, I quickly started begging the old lady for forgiveness. As I pleaded, she kept sending me sharp glares and clung tightly to her little chihuahua who currently wouldn't stop snapping at me with high-pitched barks and startling shrill growls.

After another few torturous minutes of me apologizing over and over for scaring her, she simply lifted her chin and huffed as she turned her back to me and mumbled angrily, "My disappointment in disgraceful young girls these days just never ceases," She looked over her shoulder at me then, her short, gray curly hair sheer and her wrinkly bags seeming to droop that much further with her scowl, "I have yet to find a respectable young lady."

And with that, she swiftly scurried around me and pushed through the doors to leave. Even far out in the parking lot, she continued to check over her shoulder, as if she expected me to pull out a secretly hidden weapon and pursue her.

Hunching forward, I was overcome with defeat and disappointment at my failed attempt to receive forgiveness. I then mentally prepared myself for the next set of unfortunate events when my eyes landed on Anthony, who was casually leaning against one of the shelves and smirking at me with an eyebrow raised, arms folded, and clear amusement flashing behind his chocolatey brown eyes.

I bent my head backward and groaned as I slapped a hand to my face. Why, why did it have to be Anthony? At this point, I would have almost rather Chase catch me doing something so embarrassing!

Well, maybe not.

Sighing, I returned my gaze back towards Anthony and opened my mouth to speak when he beat me to it;

"That poor old woman," He shook his head at me as if in shame.

I closed my mouth shut. I knew there was nothing I could say to make Anthony think I was a normal person. In his eyes, I had reached the point of no return. And who could blame him? I had scared an innocent old lady half to death and made her state the supposed fact that all young girls were disgraceful! Obviously, I shouldn't be the one representing all the girls my age.

I nodded my head in agreement and looked to the floor meekly, my shoulders slouching that much further. I was about to speak up again and quietly ask what my chores were for the day when Anthony shocked me by suddenly bursting into laughter.