THE GHOST IN YOU - IT [2]

chapter eight

So her eyes and fingers skim racks upon racks of clothes. In the juniors section, most things are very bright and very outdated. Reminiscent to what Jaime's mother used to wear, flashy and gaudy and tasteless. She tries the womens section, which is a sharp contrast from the juniors. Floral, ankle-length dresses and skirts that Jaime's grandmother would toss in her shopping cart without another thought.

And so her eyes fall upon the men's section. The graphic pop culture shirts were much more her speed. She flicks through racks and racks of shirts and finds a really cool Galaga one that she slings over her arm immediately. After picking a few more, she's about to go back to the women's section to attempt to find pants again. But something catches her eye.

On top of one of the circular racks, on an upper-body white mannequin, is a navy blue Van Halen shirt. Not just any Van Halen shirt, but a 1979 tour shirt, with the tourdates imprinted on the back and a picture of the band on the front. And with David Lee Roth, thank the Lord, Jaime would be caught dead supporting Sammy Hager in any way. The 'Van Halen' on the chest of the shirt is worn, obviously enduring many washes in the past decade. Well loved, it looked like. And it was going to be even more loved.

Jaime confidently walks over to the shirt and reaches up, grasping the pricetag. She turns it around and is met with a glaring, bold, $28.17 dollars. As if being burned, Jaime lets go of the pricetag instantly. It swings a bit, taunting her.

Arms full of clothing items each under five dollars, Jaime barrels up to the counter, the teenager having not moved an inch. "Hey, how much is that Van Halen shirt?"

He raises his untamed eyebrows and peers at her over his comic. "I know you're old enough to read, pipsqueak."

She narrows her eyes. "Almost thirty dollars for that thing?"

"Sammy Hager is trying to get all traces of David Lee Roth off the market. Of course it's expensive." He leans an elbow onto the counter, arm brushing against the cash register. "But I didn't make the price, Marty did. So please, spare me of your complaints."

"If Marty were here, would he negotiate the price for his favorite customer?" She asks sweetly, batting her eyelashes the way Beverly taught her to.

"If his favorite customer is a little girl, I would be concerned." The boy sits up straight, scratching his chin of scraggly hair. "Besides, why do you want it so bad? Gift for someone or something?"

Jaime's smooth demeanor falls. She stares blankly. "No, I want it."

"Right." He draws out, the corner of his lips hooking up in a smirk. "Listen, if you liked Jump and Panama that much, go buy 1984. I think there's a vinyl copy in the front."

Jaime inhales deeply, rolling her eyes to herself. "Not that I need to justify myself, but that album is shit. Other than Hot for Teacher. The synths on the other songs don't blend with Eddie Van Halen's Fender at all. It's subpar at best. But that's what cocaine does to you, eh?" Jaime's arms begin to sweat under the piles of clothes. The boy is staring at her in mock-surprise, obviously not impressed at her musical tangent.

"Okay. Well. The price is still $28.17. Either buy it or oogle at it from afar, I don't care. But make a decision, 'cause I'm not getting any younger."

Jaime peers down at the clothes in her arms. Sees the bulge of her moleskin wallet in her front pocket, knowing just under forty bucks lie inside. Thinks of her closet at home, holding clothes that are just a tad bit uncomfortable but manageable. Remembers Victor's sudden growth spurt about a year ago, envisions the two black trashbags of old clothes collecting dust in the back of his closet. And then proceeds to waddle around the store, placing each item back where it was found.