The Optimist

four

The book in my hand, Insurgent, does nothing to settle my growing boredom as I wait for Jacob to arrive. He said exactly three hours from now, and it has reached that point.

Thirty minutes ago.

I sigh, closing the book before easing up from the bench that accompanies the door to the mall. Since I had nothing to do after school, I decided to come straight after. I saw over forty girls from Peak Hill here, in ever dress store, searching for a dress for the prom's P-Party, the after-party like gathering where the Homecoming King and Queen celebrate along with chosen friends.

Luckily, none of them recognize me, but as soon as I take a step out of the gigantic mall, I bump into a strange, slim figure. My body collides with an Afro, for whoever it was bumped into me rocked. It was dark, curly and sleek, depicting hair like a Mexican.

I jump back as soon as our bodies touch, and without eye contact, I mumble a quick "excuse me." and part from the scene quickly. Where am I going? I'm not quite sure. I keep walking until the distinct voice of someone calling my name halts me in my tracks.

"Nadia! Nadia!"

I recognize the voice. Jacob's. I turn around and gaze at him a fifteen feet away, and realize how fast and far I walked. I squint my eyes to get a better view, but it doesn't help. I continue walking, slowly, to make sure it's him. But then I see something--someone--standing next to him.

A girl.

She smiles with a large purse and with an irrational sense of fashion. Her dark violet hair is wild a loose all over her head. So many layers of clothing, I can't count. She seems to have the same sense of optimistsm as Jacob, and as soon as I approach them, she grabs my arm and pulls me into the mall. Jacob trails behind and when I look back at him, and he smiles and shrugs.

. . .

The third store. Still empty-handed. All of the dresses so far have been picked out by the anonymous-named girl Jacob decided to tag along. And with each dress, she makes an inspection so intense, I think the dress will rip to pieces. To tie it all off, she declines all of them.

"Steph, we've got two hours, sis." Jacob says. "It's enough time, I'm sure, but we might want to hurry."

So that's his sister? She's extremely gorgeous, something I never noticed until she smiles. She waves him off and I try to stifle a giggle, but it slips. Fortunately this time, Jacob's camera isn't joining us, and he won't snap any more photos.

"Don't rush, Jacob. Two hours is enough time to finish shopping and doing her makeup. I've got it." She winks. Now I know why she's here. She'll be doing my makeup and choosing my dress. I have the worst sense of fashion, I can't apply lipstick, and I'll mix blush, eyeliner, and any other makeup all into one, so that's great. I'd be perfectly reading my books while resembling America's Next Top Monster.

Soon, we walk into a shop, Red Joy Dress Couture, and no one from school is there. I gaze at all the dresses in awe, watching the colors range everywhere I turn. Each dress has its own print, it's own fashion, unlike me. I don't realize Steph yelling to my name until she yells "Nadia!" and catches my attention.. and a few other's.

"What's your favorite color?" She grabs an aqua blue floor length dress from the rack and inspects it. It's gorgeous, but the straplessness withdraws my attention just s easily as it came. A million color names run through my mind. "Brown," I mutter, earning a cocked eyebrow from the sibling, who laughs it off after a quick second later.

I hate brown.

"Well, brown's a pretty color." Steph says and picks up another dress. An optimistic trait. She and I both know brown isn't a beautiful color, but in fact, just the ordinary color of cover-less school textbooks and, well, poop. I sense she doesn't want to upset me by saying brown's an ugly color, but she already slightly has, lying that it's not to satisfy me.