The metal hooks of the hangers clashed against each other and the bar they hung on as Dara parted the pile and drew a cute cardigan. With this, Page would look dapper. She whirled to find the girl hunkered over a glass case featuring watches with the characters from her favorite game emblazoned on the face.
Dara sighed and yanked the girl away by the shoulder, shoving the cardigan into her arms. "Wear that, will you?" she sniped, her patience thinning as the strands of her hair. If her charge continued to be like this, maybe she'd lose all of them someday. "And stop pouting at me. It's not going to work. You're not getting out of this until you look like a person."
Page threw her hands down and scoffed. "Why must we be here on a Saturday?" she whined. "I have homework."
"Trust me, love," Dara said, grabbing Page by the shoulder and turning her towards the direction of the fitting rooms. "Homework's the last thing on your mind."
Seemingly busted, Page stalked to the array of cubicles and held the cardigan over her original clothes. "Are you sure about this?" She whirled to Dara who stepped into place beside her. The mirror reflected Page, but Dara's figure was nowhere to be found. Her charge might still see her, but contractors weren't supposed to be perceived by anyone, even themselves.
"I look like a drab Christmas tree," Page continued, swinging the cardigan away and towards her bust. "Or a holiday reindeer. It's a million days until winter."
"Just try it on." Dara jerked her chin at Page. "You never know what will work unless you try."
Page frowned. "Why do I need new clothes?" she said. "I have plenty at home."
"And has anything you wore captured Jake's attention?" Dara prodded.
"I'm sorry, what does my clothes have to do with anything?" Page touched her chest as if offended. Well, she has every right to. Her fashion sense was all over. "What are we really doing here?"
Dara marched back to the store's displays, swiped a couple of dresses from the racks, and added them into Page's hands. "You are getting a fashion revamp, and you won't have any say about it," she said. "Got it?"
"Yes, but why?" Page inclined her head to one side, scratching the side of her face. She seemed fond of doing that when she was confused. "Jake isn't like the other guys. He doesn't care about fashion or flashy girls. All he cares about is games...and animated TV shows."
"Yes, so let's just accept the fact that he's not into you," Dara retorted, crossing her arms. "That makes it easier for the both of us."
"No. Easier for you, maybe." Page matched Dara's stance, defiantly raising her gaze into Dara's. "I love Jake, and if I have to make the first move, I should. Youth won't last forever, you know?"
"That is why we're out here, on a Saturday, trying on clothes you won't wear for some reason, so we can do exactly that." Dara waved her hands at Page's entire being to illustrate her point. "I'm on your side, Page. I want you to be happy as much as the next contractor, but you need to do as I say. And I say—wear those dresses and put the cardigan on top."
"But why?" Page asked again.
Dara clawed her hands in the air, eager to wring the life out of her charge. She was pretty sure it was against the Company's guidelines, though. "Because as much as you fancy this Jake dude as 'not like the other guys', he's still a man," she explained. Page just didn't get it, and that was more frustrating. Dara had spent the last month dealing with Page's whims that were just unrealistic and weren't how love was supposed to work. "All your previous attempts to get him to notice you—playing his favorite game and beating him in it, binging on all his favorite shows and weirding him out with your in-depth knowledge of the lore when you won't stop talking about it, following him around like a damned stalker and buying all the merch he touched—they didn't work. Do you know what the problem is?"
"Frankly, no," Page said with such a straight face it made Dara's frustration skyrocket. "He likes those things, so he should be thrilled there's someone who likes the same stuff as him. Maybe even more."
"On a reasonable scale, it might work," Dara replied. Having this conversation in the middle of a busy department store was the last thing she wanted, but here they were. "I doubt he doesn't know you like him. He's just...creeped out. You just need to lay low and reinvent yourself, at least until he stops seeing you like an obsessive serial killer out to get him."
"But I'm not," Page reasoned. "A serial killer, that is."
"To him, you probably are," Dara said. "Listen, I know how all of this works, alright? Try on a few dresses, and we'll pick out the ones that won't make you stand out to the rest of the school but will surely make him notice, okay? I won't ask you to start giggling like a medieval lady; you can still be a gamer and all that, but we've gotta show him there is a feminine side to you as well. Because at the end of the day, you're still both human, and he's more likely to reciprocate if he sees you as one."
Page looked like she wanted to argue more, but Dara knew better. She led the girl into an unoccupied stall and shut the door. With a flick of her hand, the lock turned on its own. Left with no choice, Page started shedding off her clothes and obeying instructions.
Dara tucked her hands into the pockets of her crimson slacks, leaning her head against the laminated divider. Her charge was unhappy not because she didn't get what she wanted. She was unhappy because she was lost. In the world she was functioning in, everyone thought falling in love and getting a boyfriend was the only way to live life. Again and again, the most common problem of the people the Company dealt with was the uncertainty of not fitting in.
And in Page's attempt to be normal, to be like everybody else, she might have just defined what it meant to be different. To be herself. Dara couldn't decide if it worked out for her charge or not, so her job was to make Page get her wish and to be there when Page realized it wasn't what she wanted all along. Wishes weren't made to make their lives better. Most of them were thrown to the heavens to ward off the unpleasant emotions brought about by circumstances.
The door opened, and Page stepped out, tugging at the hem of her dress. Dara's eyes widened at the sight of a summer dress hugging Page's figure quite nicely. It was the perfect fit, the perfect vibe. Just tie the hair up, and Page would look immaculate, like a preppy girl who loved life and cheesy dips.
"Can I take this off?" Page winced as she tugged at the dress lower. "It's hella uncomfortable."
"It's perfect," Dara said. "Let's get that one, and I'll arrange a meeting between you and your lover boy. Remember to always follow my lead and wish only when necessary. Deal?"
Page's features crumpled into a begrudging frown, but Dara had cornered her into a pact she couldn't walk away from. "Deal," the girl blubbered.
Dara pumped her fist in the air. The Manager would chew their shoelaces now. She has just secured a path to victory.