Sophisticated Sharks and I'm Soaked and Covered in Glitter

Chapter Sixteen: Dress Shopping With Norman Reedus?

"MOM, I NEED A DRESS TO FOLLOW THROUGH WITH OUR EVIL PLAN!" I shouted as I ran into our apartment. Wait a second— did I say that out loud? Oh, crap. I also said 'our', and Mom knows I only have one friend.. In short, I am doomed. Please put on my tombstone: she died as she lived~ drinking tea.

"You really like to shout, don't you?" Says a very familiar male voice. I throw myself over the couch and groan loudly into a pillow. Why, of all days, does Norman have to be here?

"All is not well in waffleville, I repeat, ALL IS NOT WELL IN WAFFLEVILLE!" I scream into the couch as my answer.

"Woah there, slow down." Norman takes a seat on the couch and I slide onto it backwards, which leads to me falling off and hitting my head on the coffee table, but I get in the couch regardless of my smarting head and sit like a normal human being. "Why do you need a dress?"

"There's a dance tomorrow at school," I mutter, looking at my legs, and I start picking off dried white glue that's on my jeans for some reason. Somehow, some way, I can sense my face turning red. Is there anything more embarrassing than having to explain to the man who has shoved his tongue down my mom's throat why I need a dress? Well, I guess asking for pads would be worse, but I, unfortunately and fortunately, due to my hormone thing and some genetic mutation, I am sterile and will never get my period. "I don't have a dress." I say even quieter.

"Your mom's at the office. Why don't you and I go to the mall and pick something out?" Norman suggests, and I see why he's a good dad. Norman's good with kids.

Alas, I am still slightly apprehensive to the whole ordeal, even though a man who is trustworthy because he doesn't seem like a sexual predator has offered to take me clothes shopping so close to Christmas. Oh, and did I mention he's freaking rich? "Are you sure about this, Norman?" I ask.

"Elaina-" He's about to continue, but I cut him off.

"Ann," I mention the name he forgot.

Norman coughs. "Elaina Ann, you need this dress to rock that dance, right?"

"Um, I guess so-"

"There, it's all right, because it's a need, not a want." He explains. "Grab your coat, Elaina Ann, we're going shopping."

"At Walmart, right? We're out of milk!" I call out, hoping that he doesn't plan on spending too much on me. I'm not really worth a whole bunch. Saskatchewan farm girls don't really go for much, especially ones that have eyes that, to the visually challenged, look bright red.

"We'll get milk on our way back!"

And all hopes of getting a cheap dress at Walmart vanish. But I guess this isn't really much of a problem, right?

I suppose to the average passerby, Norman and I look like father and daughter, and a plus is because most girls have probably obtained fashionable dresses a few weeks in advance, the mall is mostly empty, as rush hour isn't quite here yet. No fans for Norman, and no awkward questions for me. "Where do girls your age get clothes?" Norman asks, genuinely confused because he doesn't have a daughter. Well, Norman, welcome to your first class of almost stepdaughter 101. The only problem is, I don't know the answer to his question.

"Honestly, I have zero ideas. All my clothes are a couple of years old and from couple of years, I mean over two. I just get my clothes from Walmart." I answer, attempting to not be super awkward about this. And yes, I have not grown since I was twelve, but I've always been pretty short.

"Forever 21. Seems about your age group, right?" He asks.

Forever 21 looks like a store that sells clothes to popular, pretty girls, not outsider rejects like me who've been wearing the same jeans since my tween years. "Let's give it a shot," I unnoticeably puff out my chest and attempt to be positive. It doesn't work.

It's official: I'm way out of my league. Wearing farm girl attire even when I wasn't on the farm has given me zero fashion sense, except that I know that combat boots from the nineties (why did Mom never clear out her stuff?) look good with jeans. The dresses seem to outshine me, and so feel like shrinking into a corner when I see it— the dress.

The blue colour is light, the skirt is long and flows, and the sleeves are short. I fall in love even more with it when I notice it on the clearance rack. I must be blessed today, I think as a I lift it off the rack. "My lord," I whisper, touching the light, airy material as if it might evaporate between my fingers. When I enter the changeroom, I'm almost in some ethereal state, and I feel flipping FANTASTIC when I put it on. This must be how a princess feels like, or something. The skirt is floaty, and I feel floaty myself as I walk out of the cubical.

"This. Is. Gorgeous." I say brokenly as I show off the dress. "Long enough, but not tacky. Not overly embellished, but not plain. I feel kind of... celestial, actually." As embarrassing as it is, I describe exactly how much I like the dress, and for just a moment, I forget everything. It's like an out-of-body experience. As I look down from a bird's eye view of Norman and I, all I see is a father and his daughter. Having a dad would be nice, I guess.

Maybe if he and Mom go steady, it won't be too terrible.

Norman smiles and nods, and I close the cubicle door once again. Changing back into my own clothing, I hang the dress back up and walk out, still smiling. The celestial feeling lingers. "It's a taker?" Norman affirms.

I nod. "Certainly." I confirm, quirking my mouth into a crooked smile. The lady at the checkout hawks at him, and I notice the large crowd of teenagers coming in for Christmas shopping or whatever. "Time to go," I remind, and we run as fast as we can out of the mall without getting a ticket.

"Norman, are with Elaina Ann?" Mom asks as the door creaks open. There's a good smell in the air, and she's stirring something in a pan on the stove.

"She's with me, Joy. We were just out getting a dress for the school dance for her." Norman explains as he removes his coat. I don't take mine off because I'm not wearing one— Atlanta is much warmer than Saskatchewan.

"A dress? Sweetie, I could've taken you." Mom acts slightly surprised, but is clearly amused. I'm getting along with her boyfriend, and they are taking things seriously here.

"She came crashing through the door with the news, I thought I would take some stress off your back." He shrugs, and I remove dishes from the dish rack and use them to set the table.

"Nice to see you two getting along..." She hummed as she stirred.

"Mom, when have we not gotten along?" I ask, partially joking.

"Oh, there was the time where you passed out because you saw us kissing and freaked out." Mom mentions. I place the plates in front of the chairs before driving my palm into my forehead. That was, like, a week or something ago. How have I forgotten already?

Blushing, I sit down at the table and scoop some enchiladas sans tortillas onto my plate. "Mom, never mention that again, please?"

"Whatever you say, sweetie."