Sierra #2
“I promise. Now let's get in there, get your shoes, and go have pizza.” When she looks up and grins, I know I’ve talked her into it. Reaching out, she grasps my hand again, practically dragging me to the door, and we head inside.
Making our way through the mall to the shoe store, I can’t help but constantly scan the area, looking for anyone from my school, praying they don’t notice me.
We manage to make it undetected, even with a cluster of the cheer squad standing over by the lingerie store.
How typical. Sam beelines for the aisle that has her size shoes and frantically looks through them, searching for the pair she’s had her eye on.
When she finds the shoes, but not in her size, she looks at me with tears in her eyes. “Wait right here. I’m going to go see if they have some in the back,” I tell her, picking up one to show the clerk.
“Okay,” Sam mumbles, defeat in her tone. Please let them have her size in the back somewhere.
“Hey, stop, they could have some in the back. If they don’t, I’ll find out when they’ll be getting more in and come back for them.” I wrap her in a quick hug and rush off to find the clerk.
Making my way to the counter, I stand in line and attempt to wait patiently. I’m so busy fidgeting, debating with myself if I should have left her there, and hoping to hell they have her size in the back, that I don’t even notice Mr. Johnson approaching until he touches my arm.
I jump, startled by the touch. “So sorry to scare you, Sierra. I was walking by and saw you, and I haven’t seen you in so long,” he says.
“It's okay Mr. Johnson. You just startled me,” I say, quickly looking around outside the doors of the shoe shop to see if he is with him.
“How’s your aunt and sister? How old is Samantha now, ten? I keep telling Wesley he needs to bring you over to the house for dinner, but he always says you're busy.”
I want to scream lies at the top of my lungs, but I don’t. Instead, I just lie like Wesley.
“My aunt is doing well. Sam is ten now and thinks she’s all grown up.
With my aunt working night shifts, I’m really needed at home, anyway.
But thank you for the invitation.” The clerk finishes with the person in front of me, and I step up to the counter.
“Well, it’s my turn. Thank you for saying hello,” I tell him, grateful to end the conversation.
I always liked Wesley’s father, but after that night at his house where everything is blurry, any time I’ve run into him, it feels like my skin is crawling, and I have to fight the overwhelming urge to vomit. Not knowing why I feel this way bothers me.
“How can I help you?” the clerk asks, annoyance seeping through her voice.
“Sorry, I was wondering if you had these in a size four?” I place the shoe on the counter so she knows which one I’m asking about.
“Were there none on the shelf?” she asks, as she smacks her gum. Really, I think, why else would I be asking?
“No, there weren’t.” She rolls her eyes at that like I’ve just inconvenienced her in the biggest way. Her tune quickly changes as a middle-aged woman steps up to the counter.
“Is there a problem?” she asks, glancing back and forth between me and the clerk, then it hits me. The clerk is a student at my school. We don’t know each other personally, but I’ve seen her trailing after Savannah and her clique, and of course, they’re friends of Wesley.
“No, Mrs. Templeton, she was just looking for a certain size, and I was letting her know if there weren’t any on the shelves, to give me a moment to help the people in line, and then I’d go look for her.” The lie is so convincing in her sickeningly sweet voice.
“No need. I’ll go check for her,” she tells her before turning to me. “What size did you need, sweetie?”
“Four.” I smile, thankful for the kindness and the help; crossing my fingers they have a pair.
“Just a moment, please, and I’ll be right back,” she tells me, as I step to the side so the person behind me can be helped. The girl behind the counter shoots daggers at me the whole time, no doubt making sure I know not to open my mouth about her blatant lie.
A few minutes later and the lady returns, a box in hand, and I sigh in relief. She moves behind the counter and rings me up.
“Will there be anything else?” she asks sweetly.
“No, just the shoes. Thank you for your help.” Opening my wallet, I pull out the cash to cover the cost, handing it over to her.
I’m starting to feel a little anxious about the encounter with Mr. Johnson, running into someone from school, and being away from Sam for what feels like an eternity.
The woman hands me my change and then puts the shoes in a bag. All the while, I can see the girl cutting her eyes at me. I’m sure everyone in school will know about this by the end of the night, but of course, she’ll spin it in a way that makes me out to be a villain.
She hands me the bag and I quickly turn to head back to the aisle I left Sam in, only to come to a complete stop when I hear her laughing. I love the sound of it, but the deep voice that’s talking with her has the hair on my arms standing on end.
He’s absolutely gorgeous, and I have no clue who he is.
His hair is a dirty blonde, and it's full of waves and curls. Dimples on each cheek as he’s laughing along with Sam about him attempting to put his foot in the shoes she wanted, but failing.
If I wasn’t so scared she was talking to a stranger, I would take longer just to stand there and stare at him.
I clear my throat. “Sam, it’s time to go. I’ve got your shoes.”
She jumps up excitedly and runs over to me, totally forgetting the bags sitting by the bench she was on, to grab the one from my hands. “Ci Ci, thank you! I can’t wait to wear them on Monday."
Heading over to the bench, I just want to grab the bags and get out of here. The trip to the shoe store has exhausted me emotionally. All I want right now is to be in the comfort of my home.
The boy must see what I’m heading for, and he hurriedly picks them up and hands them out to me. “Here you go. Hi, I’m Braxton, but my friends mostly call me Brax. Your sister is hilarious.” He looks at me with a smile, his eyes glistening.
“Hello,” I mumble, preparing myself for the abuse that always comes from someone my age. Granted, I didn’t know him, but our school is fairly large. Maybe I just haven’t seen him, and it’ll take me a minute to recognize him, like with the clerk a few minutes ago.
“You must be Sierra. Sam told me all about her amazing big sister. I hope my brother raves about me like she does you. Do you go to Hillstown High? That’s where I go, well I’m starting there on Monday.
My brothers and I are new here.” Ah, there it is.
He’s being nice because he doesn’t know who I am.
That’ll change soon, it always does, because no one goes against the hierarchy of the school.
“Yes,” realizing he’s still holding out the bags, I take them from him, “I do, but I need to really get going. My aunt is waiting for us.” Turning quickly, I take Sam by the hand and race from the store as fast as I can without looking like a complete moron.
“See you around, Sierra.” I look back and see him waving. When I turn back around, I catch the clerk out of the corner of my eye with a sneer on her face. Yeah, he’s about to get an ear full.
“Ready for pizza? We’ll get off the bus a couple of stops early and swing by Pierros, then walk the rest of the way home.” I need the comfort of the gooey goodness their food provides.