Garvin Lakes

Chapter 4

As the doorbell rings on Saturday morning, I slowly get up and go to the source of the noise to open the door. Who's ringing with me at such an early hour? It's not even nine o'clock in the morning and I really do not like to get up at this time. The only reason I'm awake now is that Ryder woke me up in the morning.

Luckily I'm dressed because it would be really embarrassing to go to the door in the giraffe onesie that I carried until recently. Instead, I wear a white summer dress and tied my hair to a ponytail with a white hair tie that makes my face somehow narrower. Unsure, I turn the door handle around and open the door.

There, in front of my door, Morgan stands with a happy smile on his lips: "Good morning, Katy." I rub my eyes briefly, until they have gotten used to the glistening sunlight. "What are you doing here?", I ask softly and blink several times. "I'll pick you up to go shopping with you, what else?" She asks confused. A sober groan escapes my throat: "Oh God, why do you want to go out and buy clothes so early in the morning?"

"First, you can not call nine o'clock early, and secondly, the stores are much emptier in the morning, so the lines are not too long and the best things are not out of print," an enthusiastic look on her face.

Knowing that she will not let up, I reach for my front door key, which hangs on the key-board to my right, and brush my jacket so I do not feel cold. Then I scurry back into the house for a second to look for my cell phone and wallet and then plug it in. When I also put on my white ballerinas, I scurry outside and shut the door behind me: "So I'm ready!"

My friend starts to grin wildly and with her joy she puts me on. Energetically she reaches out to me and I put my own in hers.

The wind blows gently and whirls the loose strands, which have come loose from my braid, confused. Together we get into Morgan's car. As she starts the engine, I pull my phone out of my pocket and type in a quick message to my mother, explaining where I am, knowing my parents have not gotten up yet, which I can understand.

Why does Morgan have to be such an early riser when there's a shopping spree in the morning? I wish she was so punctual when she had to go to school in the morning. Otherwise she is neither punctual nor an early riser.

In the huge, three-floor mall that does not seem to fit in the little town, I look around and check my messages again to see if Mom has seen what I wrote. "What do we want to grab first?" She asks ambitiously, rubbing her hands together. If shopping was an Olympic discipline, it would clearly take first place. Anyone who has at least gone to the supermarket with her can tell me that. Whenever she enters a*****e where you can buy something, she is mesmerized and no longer the girl you know otherwise.

"I think we should get a dress for you first," I advise her, knowing full well that this is what she wants to hear. To know that, you have to have been shopping with her at least three times. First, she always gets a dress or a top with a skirt or pants. Then it goes on to the shoes, so they also fit to dress and the last thing she wants, then maybe a bag. But she only buys her sometimes. "True, you know me so well," she acknowledges, pulling me with her into the first clothing store she can find.

Once there, she picks out numerous clothes, which she hands me all, so I wear them for her. Fully loaded, we then hike to a changing room, whereupon she takes off my clothes after we arrive, and hides behind the curtain. A few inches away, I sit down on a chair that has been specially prepared for the customers, and wait for him. Several times she comes outside to show me the dress and get my opinion. As she steps out of the locker room in her normal clothes after a long "trial season" and looks at me searchingly: "Okay, I think I'm really taking four and fifteen now."

"That's good news," I reply with a wink and look into the cabin: "Which one?" She shows me two black, one black and white striped and one white dress. "Now we're looking for something for you," she replies grinning and looks around: "In black, you sure look great."

I roll my eyes because I do not feel like trying on anything. For sure I will not go anyway, but I can not tell her, otherwise she will only discuss with me and now I have really no desire for it: "Must that be?"

"Yes, it must be," she goes to a clothes rail and pulls out a black dress, which she hands me: "Try this!" Annoyed, I look around for an excuse, not to have to try it, but the attempt fails. However, when I find nothing, I take the garment from your hand. Then I disappear into one of the free cabins.

Slowly I pull the dress, which I have just worn, over my head and fold it on the small stool, made of light wood, together. For a brief moment I examine myself in one of the three mirrors.

Actually, I'm not ugly, but I'm not trying to put myself in the spotlight and do not stand in front of the mirror for a long time to make others happy. I prefer to be happy myself and feel well, which, when I think about it, is a rather selfish thought, but I've never misjudged myself for others. Not even for love how many do it. Instead, I value intelligence and knowledge more than expensive clothing and popularity.

Still, I often go to the mall with Morgan if she asks me to. When Morgan starts to ask me why it all takes so long, I open the zipper of the black dress and slip into it. It almost seems like Morgan can look to the future as she pulls the curtain aside just in the right moment and puts a pair of black high heels in my hand: "They fit perfectly with the dress. Would you try them on? me?"

I follow her request and replace my white ballerinas by the heels, which actually fit very well with the dress. With a gentle wave of her hand, she pulls the hair tie out of my hair, ignoring my protest, and my light brown mane pours over my shoulder. "Wow, you look just perfect," she admits after a brief consideration and then disappears back into her cabin. She calls over the wall: "Buy it." "What?" "The dress, buy it, it fits you like a glove. And you look great in it."

When we finally paid for our purchases after a good hour, we get back in her car and look at my phone and hope that she does not start the party again. My hopes are immediately disappointed. "So you go now?" "Where to?" I ask hypocritically. To know that she is just tilting her head and looking at me, I also know without having to look at her: "You know exactly where to go." "True," I admit, "And I still have not changed my mind, I'll think it over!" "When you say that you think about it and stick to it for so long, it's always 'no' and we both know that too well," she looks offended as I raise my head and look at her. "Not true," I say, but I think yes, that's right, but I would never admit that. She just rolls her eyes.

In order not to have to discuss further what I've already done enough today, I consistently look out the window and try to organize my thoughts. That was a weird day and it will get even weirder if I decide to go to the party. Unfortunately, this is one of the days when I am more indecisive than usual.