To Be A Rebel

Chapter 19: Drag Me Down

"Why am I needed in here again?" Sam asks as holds a rattle in front of Sarah, who's letting out little noises, her chubby hands reaching but nowhere close to grabbing it.

"Because I need an opinion that's not Maxine's or Paula's," I say as I finish threading a needle. "Because they told me to surprise them when it came to their wedding dresses, so I need you to help me make sure they'll like their dresses. I've got all the ones Summer and Eric helped me steal from that bridal store, but I need you to help me find out which one fits their style before I try to alter them to their size."

"Their style? Five, we all have about three shirts each and like, maybe three pairs of pants. You have four if you count those leather ones-"

"Please don't remind me of that," I groan while he erupts with giggles. Unfortunately Jody woke Sam up with all her talking over the emails a few days ago, and Sam saw me in my outfit, which he at first was just confused about, but after he was told why I was wearing the outfit... He's never gonna let me live it down.

I shake my head and look down at the dresses I have laid out on the nursery floor. "Just tell me which ones you think they'd like best so I can start altering them, please."

That's the thing that actually sucks about clothes in an apocalypse. Usually people will wear whatever, no matter how ugly, as long as it is practical. I know Owen had this really ugly Christmas sweater, but he wore it because kept him so warm he didn't care how ugly it was. And while Owen wouldn't hurt a fly, the fact that he's tall and muscular made most people hesitant to say another about the sweater...

Except for Jody. Jody didn't give a shit and she made sure to tell him how hideous that thing was.

But since clothing is worn for its use, most people don't have a style anymore. They do, but they don't show it through what they wear because usually they don't have a choice in what clothes they can get.

"Okay. Uh, that one, and that one," Sam says, pointing to a dress that I think would be called and A-line dress and the other being a ball gown.

"Is the poofy one the one you think Paula would like, or-"

"Yeah. Yeah."

I nod, grabbing my scissors. They're safety scissors, since we're in a nursery. I mean, the babies can't crawl to get them anyway, but still.

I begin to snip away at some of the fabric of the ball gown, trying to make sure the sleeves aren't too long by using the measurements they gave me. It's actually a lot harder to do this than I thought, so maybe that's why certain designers were so popular... Although, I still think wedding dresses were overpriced in the world before the apocalypse. But money means nothing to anyone anymore, and surprisingly no one's wanted to steal any wedding dresses over the past five and a half years, so I had a lot of dresses to choose from.

And I did. I have like, nine dresses all sprawled out on the floor, which is a lot since we can't stuff these in our bags, and there were only three of us on that mission...

After I've cut the dress down, I start to sew it back together so it'll be a smaller size. The ones we stole were the ones people used to look and try on to see if they like it, so they're a bigger size since they just put on clamps to make it smaller on you. And since Maxine and Paula are both fairly small, I have to do some major cutting and sewing back together, and I really hope my sewing skills will be good enough for this.

I hiss when I accidentally prick myself with the needle, and I bring my finger up to my mouth in attempt to relieve the pain. It's funny how such a small bit of pain can still bring a reaction out of me when I've been through so much.