Alexis the Icing on the Cupcake (10 page)

“Oooh, you are too cute!” I said, scratching behind its little ears. It began to purr really loudly, like a motor, and I laughed. It nestled down in the crook of my folded leg and fell asleep almost instantly. “I love this little guy,” I said.

“You should adopt him,” said Emma.

“As if!” I laughed. “Can you imagine my parents allowing a pet in the house?”

Emma laughed now. “Actually, probably not. Mia, can you take one?”

Mia shook her head. “Not with the dogs. It wouldn't be fair. Why can't you?”

“Too many mouths to feed already,” said Emma a little sadly. “I wouldn't even ask.” Emma's family has four kids, and they have a dog.

We played a little longer, and in my mind I named the little guy Puff, because he was like a puff of smoke. Finally, it was time to go. I hated to leave Puff, even though we'd only known each other for half an hour. It just felt so good to have that cozy little squish ball snuggled against my leg.

“Bye, baby,” I whispered into his fur. He smelled
like warm wool, like a baby lamb (or an Irish sweater!).

“Let's go, Alexis,” said Mia from outside the door.

Reluctantly, I finally stood and left the room. In the waiting area, we said good-bye to Dr. Palmer. When we counted everything up, we realized our cupcakes were already more than half sold! It had been a great morning. Katie called her mom for a ride to the mall, and while we waited, Mia noticed that the empty store next to the shelter was a temporary thrift shop.

“Hey, lucky coincidence! Let's see what they have! Do you have your list, Lexi—Alexis?” she asked.

I nodded and patted my tote bag. I had some of my savings, plus forty dollars from my grandma, and fifty from my parents for new clothes. I was feeling very flush with cash.

Inside there were folding tables with signs above them that said things like
GIRLS, SIZE 6–12
or
WOMEN'S SHOES
. It was kind of depressing from a merchandising perspective, but Mia wasn't fazed by it in the least. That girl is all about the clothes!

“Come!” she said, gesturing me toward the women's shoes area. There were a few people in
there, and the women's shoes table backed up to the teen girls' shoe area, probably because of the size overlap. Mia was like a laser beam, focused on my list (one pair of wedges, one pair of strappy sandals, Keds or similar flat casual shoes). Her shopping on my behalf allowed me to look around and absorb the scene.

“Try these,” she said, turning to me with a pair of copper-colored flat sandals and a pair of wedges in navy.

“Umm, okay!” I said, and I slid off my shoes and tried the wedges. They made me quite a bit taller—the heel was about two inches high—but they were comfy.

“How much?” I asked, feeling price sensitive after watching a teenager and her mom argue about the price of something.

“Fourteen,” said Mia. “But they're brand-new. The soles aren't even scuffed. They're perfect with your capris and also the long dress.”

“I think I'll get these,” I said of the wedges. I tried the sandals on, but the straps cut into my ankles too much, and I knew I'd have instant blisters.

While I was paying at the checkout, a woman came in laden with shopping bags that looked just like the ones I'd left at home.

“Donations?” asked the clerk. When the lady nodded, he pointed her to a far corner of the store.

“Oh!” I said. “You take donations?”

“Yup. Weekends all day, weekdays after four p.m. Need to be clean and in good condition. We can give you a charity receipt for the write-off.” He handed me my change and put my wedges in a plastic grocery bag.

“Thanks! I think I'll be back with some donations then, very soon.”

“Great. Thanks for shopping here!”

Katie poked her head into the doorway of the store. “My mom's here, guys!”

I made a mental note to ask my mom to help me bring my bags here, and then, without time for a final visit to Puff, we left for the mall.

A
t the mall, Mia is like a military general. She can really lead a shopping expedition. There was no time to waste.

Mia's master plan was that we'd work around a palette of white and navy, with “pops of color” in accessories or secondary pieces. I liked the mathematical simplicity of it all. We took a standard equation: navy and white, and worked in variables, like turquoise and pink. So if the shoes were navy wedges, and the pants were white capris, that meant I could play around with my top, color-wise; it could be any color since the other two were my neutrals. It made perfect sense to me when she explained it like that.

We hit Big Blue first, since we knew they had what I needed. I snapped up two T-shirts (a white
and a navy, under Mia's direction) just like my mom's turquoise one, on sale just as Mia had said they'd be. At the checkout, we scored a white tank top for eight dollars in a promotional bin, and Mia was thrilled.

“Icon, next,” she said as I paid.

I sighed heavily. Icon is not a store I like.

“Emma and I are going to the bathing suit store,” said Katie. “Want to just meet us there, after?”

“Great,” we agreed, even though I didn't mean it. I wished I didn't have to go to Icon. I watched Katie and Emma longingly as they disappeared around the corner.

I cannot stand Icon because the music is loud, the store is dark so you can hardly see anything, and they use so much cologne or something that it reeks. It's sensory overload. Mia thinks it's fun because it's “the ultimate shopping experience.” I guess it's just not my kind of experience.

She asked a salesperson where the denim miniskirts were, and he pointed us to the far side of the store. Briskly, Mia strode across and snapped hangers across the pole until she reached my size. “I think you should get the dark blue denim rather than the white, but try both!” she yelled over the music as she handed me the hangers. “I'm going to
look for a couple of other ideas. I'll meet you in the fitting room line.”

Another thing I hate about Icon is that the line for the fitting rooms takes forever. They only have three rooms, and from a business perspective, I think they do it so that it makes the store seem really popular. (The same way they make you line up outside behind a velvet rope to be let in on days when they get new shipments.) I think the whole thing is kind of phony, but I supposed if you're not on to them, you might fall for it and think the store is supercool. I just think they need more fitting rooms.

The line moved rather quickly today, and then it stalled. I had snaked into the part of the fitting room where it was still pretty dark but not as loud. I was leaning against a wall, waiting for my turn, when I heard angry voices coming from one of the rooms.

“But I
need
it! It's exactly perfect for the barbecue!” whined a girl.

A grown-up's voice was speaking sternly back, but I couldn't hear what the person was saying. It must've been a girl and her mom fighting. I cringed, imagining how bad things would have to be between me and my mom before we'd fight in public.

“You are so
mean
!” the girl's voice cried, and her fitting room door banged open, causing everyone to turn and look.

It was Olivia Allen, being followed out by her visibly angry mother.

I ducked back a little into the shadows so she wouldn't see me, but I couldn't help staring as Olivia stepped onto a little podium in front of the three-way mirror. She was wearing a very skimpy, fitted, black tank dress. She primped and posed in front of the mirror while her mother stood behind her, her arms folded across her chest and her mouth firmly pressed into a line.

“It's inappropriate,” her mother declared.

“I don't care! I'm getting it!” said Olivia, and she flounced off the podium.

Right then, they called “Next,” and it was me. Quickly, I darted into a fitting room without Olivia noticing me.

“Phew!” I said to myself once I was safely inside. But then I heard Mia.

“Alexis! Alexis!” she was outside calling my name. “Alexis Beck-er!” she singsonged.

Ugh!

“Shh!” I opened my door quickly and grabbed her, dragging her inside.

“What's up?” Mia laughed. “Is someone after us?”

“Maybe,” I said. “Olivia Allen is in here.”

“Oh,” said Mia in a “who cares?” kind of voice. They were friends for a little while but Olivia treated Mia really badly so now Mia avoids her.

“She and her mom were fighting,” I said darkly.

Mia shrugged. “Well, what else is new? Here, I got these for you to try. I'll wait outside. Do the denim mini first, though. I know that will be a keeper.”

Mia ducked out since the fitting rooms are tiny. I yanked off my pants and pulled on the mini. Just for fun, I pulled out the wedges from the bag and stuck them on too, then I trotted out to the viewing podium. (Ugh. I hate everyone looking at me.)

Mia whistled. “Woo-hoo! Now those are a pair of legs!”

I blushed, which luckily no one could see in the dark, and turned this way and that kind of quickly, looking but wanting to get it over with.

An older lady leaned over and said to me, “That looks lovely, dear. If I had your legs, it'd be all I'd wear!”

I smiled and thanked her, still feeling a little self-conscious. Like, why would I play up these darn
limbs that are giving me so much trouble right now? Growing too long, out of proportion, painful, keeping me up at night . . .

“Work it, girl!” said Mia. “You are getting that. And with tights and boots, you can wear it all year-round. Next!”

I climbed down from the podium and walked straight into Olivia, who was coming out of her fitting room and measured now a full head shorter than me since I was in heels. She looked up.

“OMG, Alexis, you're a giant all of a sudden! You're going to tower over all the boys in those things!” And she turned and walked off while my jaw was still hanging open.

I knew she was just being mean, and as I've said, I've been through this before with her. As her mother passed by, she said, “I apologize for my daughter. She's acting like a spoiled brat today.” And she walked on.

Now my jaw was hanging even lower. Imagine my mom having to apologize for my behavior! I continued to my fitting room and saw they'd left theirs a mess, with discarded clothes draped all over everything and in a pile on the bench. Gross. What a pair those two were.

At that point, I'd lost my enthusiasm for
shopping, barbecue outfit or not. I halfheartedly tried on a couple of the things Mia had pulled, but I wasn't that into them. I was happy with the skirt for nineteen dollars, and I wanted to get out of Icon.

Mia was a little disappointed, but she understood as I handed all my rejects back to the fitting room clerk (all neatly on their hangers, thank you very much!).

I paid for my denim miniskirt, and we headed out to find the other two Cupcakers. Outside, I gasped in relief, even though my ears rang like I'd just been at a loud concert. Turning, we spied Olivia and her mom still fighting. I guess they hadn't bought anything because they weren't holding any bags. I tried to feel sorry for Olivia, but I couldn't. There was no choice but to pass by them. Otherwise, we'd have to do a whole circuit of the upper level to get to the bathing suit store. I was hoping we'd go by unnoticed, but right as we reached them, Olivia's mom said, “Go on!” and Olivia turned to me.

“Alexis, I'm sorry I was rude to you in there. I was mad at my mom, and I took it out on you. The skirt and the shoes looked very pretty on you.”

Her mother stood, nodding, over her shoulder.

“Uh . . . I . . . ,” I stammered, shocked.

“Thanks, Olivia,” said Mia, and she grabbed my arm to keep my feet moving.

“Thanks,” I sputtered as Mia dragged me away.

“That girl is too much,” said Mia, once we were a few stores away.

“I know. She really knows how to get to me,” I said.

“You do realize that she goes after your best assets, don't you?” Mia asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, your cute freckles, your superlong legs—those are some of the great things about you. It's like a joke that she'd even try to be negative, since they're such obvious pluses!”

“Really?” I was surprised by this analysis.

Mia nodded. “Very typical of mean-girl behavior. I've read up on it.”

“Yeah,” I agreed. “Well, it still hurts. I know my legs are freakishly long.”

“Trust me. There's nothing freakish about them. They're an asset,” said Mia. “And I know these things.”

We reached the bathing suit store and found Katie and Emma finishing up. They'd been laughing their heads off, trying on inappropriate bathing suits, and I was sad to have missed it. Plus, I needed a new suit myself.