Life Of A Bitch

19

Alz stares at me. I stare at her.

"You cannot wear that!" I shout at her, scanning her top to bottom with disgust. She's wearing yoga pants with red frills at the bottom and a pink glittery off-shoulder top. "If you wear this, not only will you be eliminated from SQ Finale, you'll be teased about it for the rest of your life. From hotshot to hot mess, real quick."

Alz got nominated to the sixth grade SQ Finale and like every year, it's a headache for me. It's Friday and I'm in her room, looking through her clothes for something cute. Because girls her age don't dress hot, they dress cute. But apparently, it's harder than learning Chinese.

What did Mom and Dad give birth to?

A child with a rotten dressing sense.

Alz pouts and looks in the mirror. "Ana said I look hot in it."

"Is Ana in the finale?" I ask, rummaging through her closet. It's messier than my room.

"Yes."

I glare at Alz, wondering how could she be so dumb. "Alice Lewis, you're so naive! Obviously she wanted you out from the finale!"

"Hey! She's my friend!"

"Girls like us don't have friends!" I yell and slip on a sock, landing with a painful thud on the floor.

ARGH!

The clothes which were in my arms fall on top of me in a pile and their hangers fall on my head. I never knew hangers could be so deadly.

"This hurts." I whine, trying to get out. "Alz, come help me out."

I hear her laughing, pounding her hands against the bed. "Let me click some photos first."

I look up and glare at her. She had tears in her eyes by now and I start laughing too. This goes on for a few minutes when I sit up and look at her seriously.

"Alz," I say, rubbing the back of my head where the hangers had hit. "Why don't you have cute clothes."

"I have cute clothes!" She says defensively, pointing to the pink section of the closet.

"But these are middle-school daily cute clothes." I say, exasperated. "Where are your formal cute clothes?"

Examining her nails, Alz says, "I had many but I grew out of them. And Mom doesn't buy me any."

"Mom doesn't buy you any or you throw a tantrum every time she talks about buying formals?"

She sticks out her tongue at me and rolls her eyes. "Whatever."

She is so tomboyish, I sometimes wonder how the hell does she manage to act like a barbie girl at school.

So now, I have to go shopping with Alz. Why wasn't I dead before it, God?

"Get ready and wait in the garage," I order her. "I'm gonna ask Mom for some money and then, we're off shopping."

"No!" Alz groans, banging her head against the bed rest.

Without me, she wouldn't even manage to be the 'p' in 'popular'.

*

"You keep track of every kids' store opened in NYC?" I ask quizzically, standing in front of a newly opened shop on Fifth Avenue. It was bustling with people inside and named, "Pretty People".

"Yes." Alz says, re-tying her loose shoe laces.

"But you don't enjoy shopping."

"No."

"Weird," I say and we enter.

I think I fell in love with it.

The clothes here are not just pretty, they are works of art. Blue, red, pink, yellow— every single bright colour is present here in the form of a dress.

"Let's do this." I say, grinning. We try to squeeze in the crowd and pick out the best outfits. Alz picks out a straight plain black dress, which ends at her knee.

"You are not going to a funeral," I frown and check out the dresses on the 'Specials' section. These were too extravagant and gaudy, and Alz would kill me if I show them to her.

Alz arrives again with grey frock, which will fit her body well but it's grey, so I dismiss it. "Ridiculous sisters and their ridiculous dress-sense." Alz grumbles and walks away. After much struggle, I pick out some frocks and proceed to walk towards changing rooms, where Alz promised me to meet. Although I'm not much pleased with my selections, but I think they'll look good when she wears them.

"Jen! Here!" I hear Alz call out my name and spot her at the end of the changing rooms. There's some guy standing next to her, talking to her, his back towards me and my heart starts to race. Is he a pedophile? Oh my God, Alz! Didn't Mom teach you about Stranger Danger?

I see him bending down and shaking Alz's hands. He probably asks her something, to which she nods and he takes out a chocolate out of his pocket. Oh my God, he is offering it to her!

I run through the entire row of changing rooms, yanking my shoe open in the process. I may need it as a defence weapon. As soon as I near him, I attempt to hit him on the head, but he turns around and I end up hitting him on the cheek instead.

"Ow, woman! What are you—" he looks at me and freezes, locking his eyes with me. I freeze too.

"What the hell, Jen?" Alz asks, angry.

I'm more than angry at myself, Alz. Because I just hit Brandon on the cheek with a shoe.