Backstreet Boy

|Chapter 15: Run-Ins|

Isabella

"Isabella, could you take Abigail out to the mall? She needs a new pair of jeans," Mother questioned, tucking about three loose hairs behind her ears that had escaped the ensnarement that was her tight bun at the back of her head.

My eyes, having been formerly fixated on my sketches in front of me now turned to the window to the next of me which was open. The curtains hung loosely at the sides, but the bottoms billowed slightly. I was overlooking the little roof top which you can sit on that sometimes I do in the summer to relax myself. It was tranquil and serene on the rooftop. I used to go out on it with Miles sometimes for some peace, but it's been awhile since I've sat on it.

"It's nearly the summer," I responded, exasperated. "Why on earth does she need jeans when it's nearly the summer? It's warm outside."

"Isabella, you won't argue and you'll take Abigail to the mall. You won't be long. It's just one shop to look for a pair of jeans."

"A specific pair," I muttered, knowing just how fastidious Abigail was when she came to picking clothes.

She was entering the struggle of making sure her outfit had to be adequate, fashionable and up-to-date. A hindrance of the school, no doubt, but something we were always kept on top of. Sophomore year was quite a tricky year in our school

"But why can't you take her?" I groaned, dropping my sky blue pencil to the desk. It rolled a little until I stopped the movement.

"Because, young lady, I asked you. I have some cleaning to finish off. Now if you could go now, that would be greatly appreciated."

I groaned again and pushed my chair back slightly, rubbing it against the carpet. Mother scoffed, "Isabella, don't do that. You'll ruff the carpet up. And don't groan. It's not ladylike."

"Yes, Mother," I muttered. "Abigail, come on, we're going to the mall!" I yelled after Mother left my room.

Abigail came jauntily prancing out of her room with a skirt on. I went to the toilet quickly in prior to grabbing my car keys and following Abigail to the car. She got in the passenger seat and adjusted the seat-belt as I opened the garage door. Then I got in the driver side of the car and heaved a sigh.

"Why do you even need new jeans?" I asked, stepping my foot down on the clutch and turning the engine on. Then I moved the gear stick into reverse.

"My best pair ripped," she replied, glancing at the proximity between the wing mirror and the wall of the garage considering my car was at the very perimeter of the garage.

When I made it into safe territory and turned it around on the drive, I replied again to Abigail. "It is the summer soon. It is warm already." My tone was almost impassive and monotonous. Was there something so incomprehensible about my reply entailing that it was the summer and jeans would not be needed?

Despite my endeavours to cease this voyage before we were to actually arrive at our destination which was the mall, no attempt was made to listen to me so we did eventually end up there. As much as I loved Abigail as my sister, I didn't particular want to trek to the mall just for a pair of jeans which would be more adequate in autumn and the winter rather than the upcoming season: the summer.

Abigail virtually jumped out of my Aston Martin and began power walking into the mall. I followed at a leisurely pace and kept unfocused at all times during the visit to the mall. Abigail raced right into the main shop as I stayed put near the threshold and checking out some of the dresses for the summer which were all the range now.

But people were bustling by ceaselessly – families or individual people. There was a little display at the end of the mall, too in which many people were flocking to in that direction. But there was a shop opposite after the benches in the middle and minute vending machines that sold predominantly guys' wear. A teenage boy with Ray-Bans on his face and overalls tied around his waist. He wore chunky black shoes and his large hands were lightly tarnished with oil and grease.