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 Posted: Sun Dec 28, 2008 9:54 pm
[Teen Quest]
To Malice, Anthropology was the ultimate in poser clothing. Catering to rich snobby girls who wanted to look semi-Lolita without actually doing any work. Still, it was, on occasion, a nice place to pick up supplements for her wardrobe. Expensive supplements.
She was browsing with Elda that evening, mostly because her mother refused to allow her free run of the mall after dark, and partly because it was nice to have a credit card, read: mother, handy. She browsed through the racks casually; bypassing the house wears section which she had no interest in, and ignoring the discount corner. The pickings were even less than normal, as the colors of the season seemed to be rose and teal. Over my dead decaying corpse, she thought to herself.
Then she spotted it, the most amazing sweater she had ever laid eyes on. It was an off-crème color, like slightly aged parchment, and had tattered places covered in complicated-looking music lines. It was beautiful. It was astounding. It was almost $100.
No amount of begging could persuade Elda to part with $100 for a single sweater, no matter how “splendid” or “extraordinary” it may be. So Malice was reduced to pouting.
“Save your money and come buy it for yourself.” Elda told her. “But stop with the face, it makes you look very unappealing.” Malice didn’t care how it made her look, she wanted that sweater and she wanted it now.
By the time she got home all she could think of were ways to earn money for that damn sweater. She volunteered to do extra chores in exchange for allowance, saved every penny she found between the couch cushions, and even offered to baby-sit Miss. Twinkles annoying yappy dog, much to Ashes displeasure.
Three weeks latter, three very long grumpy weeks latter, she’d saved just over $100 and made the return trip to Anthropology. The sweater was still there, and she grabbed one without hardly looking at it, and rushed to the counter.
Finally the holy grail of clothing had been obtained, and walking out of the store with her bag in hand, the sweater wrapped in tissue paper, she felt very grown-up for the first time.
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Posted: Tue Dec 30, 2008 10:44 am
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Posted: Mon Aug 30, 2010 4:55 am
From the Diary of Elda-Chan. . .
Dated: 8/30/200
Dear Diary,
Mother's are supposed to love their daughters, right?
I find myself struggling to find things to love in Malice, and the older she gets the harder the struggle becomes. Maybe it would be different if she where really my child? I'm not supposed to think like this, it's not right.
But she is not natural.
~Elda-Chan
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