First Comes Like #Wattys2020

17

Seventeen

The first thing I remember when we enter the mall is the photo booth. My eyes find it right away, nestled in a corner, it's deep red curtains pulled closed, a bored looking girl seated outside it, on her phone. I can't stop looking. And then I realize that the girl is blond and that's she's the one from the awful pictures.

She's the girl Cole was kissing.

I put two and two together and everything clicks. She was inside the booth at the time and that's why Dean was able to snatch the photos without being caught.

"Where do we go first?" Dean looks at me, then follows my eyes over to the photo booth. He's silent at first, but then he reaches for one of the curls in my bun and pulls at it. "Come on." I finally look away and follow him, before I realize that he's leading me straight towards the very thing I wanted to avoid.

"What are you doing?" I hiss, "THIS IS THE PLACE." 

The blond attendant looks up at me, rolls her eyes and looks back at her phone. She looks at least 21 and I hate her already.

Dean pays her and pulls aside the red curtain. "Let's give this thing a good memory, yeah?" He faces me, finally.

Oh.

I blink at him and he takes my hand and pulls me into the photo booth with him. "Make me laugh." He says, "Without talking." I grin and shove his shoulder. Then we both make silly faces at the camera and I don't know about Dean, but it makes me laugh. It's actually difficult to think about Cole when my shoulders are shaking so hard and I can't stop laughing. I want to forget about him, once and for all and when Dean unexpectedly sticks his finger in my ear and I yelp, he's gone from my heart.

Just like that.

Dean laughs so hard when we actually see our photos, he can't move. "I'm definitely keeping this." He says, grinning, "Might come in handy, for black mail and stuff."

I smile and narrow my eyes at him. "You wouldn't." My face in the last photo, when Dean stuck his finger in my ear, is priceless. But not in a good way. "I'm getting one too." I say, because his face in the second one is worse. And it might come in handy. You know, for black mail and stuff.

I flash the attendant at sickening sweet smile as she hands me another copy of our photos and she looks at me like I'm crazy. She wouldn't understand, but if it weren't for her, I'd probably still be obsessing over Cole. And then the aftermath would've been worse. 

"Thanks a lot." I say. She pops her gum and dismisses me.

After that, Dean and I head towards the craft stores and then the stores for party supplies, and then this vintage shop. It's dimly lit and smells musty but there are so many things I'm positive stopping here will be worth our time. I leave Dean somewhere in the store and wander alone through the aisles, checking out all the cool stuff. It's like a treasure trove. 

There are artsy vases and funky looking lamps, ancient and magical looking carpets, retro posters and comic books and all sorts of vintage clothes. I find the cutest skirt ever: it's denim with buttons down the front, and I just want to forget why we're at the mall in the first place and buy it. Its a treasure among stacks of dusty vintage junk. But I tell myself that this is not the time for clothes and put it back, at the back where no one else can find it.

I walk further down the aisle and then down the next where I find vintage ticket rolls., the kind that you'd get at the carnival long ago. I figure they could come in handy for the mini fair or maybe even movie day.

"Pinkette!"I call, breaking the silence of the empty store, "Look what I found."

"Coming!" Dean calls back. Then, "Where the hell are you, Poof?" Something clatters to the ground in the aisle next to mine. It sounds like metal.

"I don't know. Somewhere in the back. Follow the sound."

Dean appears finally, wearing a hat that makes him look like he's from the TV in the 40s, only in color. I half expect him to speak with a transatlantic accent when he says "Cool."

***

Shopping takes us way more than two hours, because apparently, not even Dean can resist clear helium balloons that you can fill with confetti or the pink and red heart shaped ones.

"All of this isn't going to fit." Dean says when we're done, nodding towards the boxes of supplies on the hot gravel of the parking lot as he closes the trunk on the other boxes. "Back seat."

We lift the heavy boxes (Dean doesn't seem to think they're heavy) onto the back seat. Belatedly, I realize that there's no way I'm going to fit at the back too. Dean is already getting into the driver's seat, so I close the back door and get into the front seat.

It's...weird.

The AC is nicer up front, and the seat feels comfier. And then, in front of me is the windscreen so I can see the trees and the cars rush past us as we drive. And then there's the stereo, which is nice and loud, so the whole trip back to our neighborhood is so much more enjoyable than it would have been if I was in the back seat. It's like upgrading from a tiny black and white TV to a huge colored one. 

I don't want to go back to the small TV.

When I get back home, I find that Nina's back already, her curly head stuck in the freezer. She's standing on a stool and rummaging for something. Neither of my parents anywhere in sight. "What are you doing?" I ask, standing behind her and peering into the freezer.

Nina freezes (she freezes in the freezer), guilty as hell. "No-Nothing." She turns and smiles at me, forgetting I'm semi-immune to her cuteness and charms. "Hi Val... You're back early. Did you have a good day at school?"

I cross my arms and shake my head. "Don't change the topic, Ms Suspicious. What are you up to?"

"Can a girl get some ice in peace?" Nina pops a cube of ice into her mouth, like that's what she was looking for all along, then shuts the freezer door and hops off the stool. "I don't ask you questions when you do your stuff."

"Uh. Yeah you do." I say, "Anyway. I have things to do." 

"Good." Nina says.

I get my own cube of ice and show her that I'm walking away. But when I get to the stairs, I stop and wait, then turn back and peer into the kitchen. Nina opens the freezer again and takes out the whole bag of frozen strawberries. And raspberries. And blackberries. She shoves them into a bag of hers, looking over her shoulder to see if anyone is coming. I feel like saying something but then I shrug and head to my room. 

Maybe Mom gave her permission.

And besides, even if she didn't, how much trouble could a nine-year old get into with a bag of frozen berries?