Prompt: Red Price
Everything was ‘on sale.’
Large red sale tags fluttered between aisles of clothes,
trembling in the wake of fervent shoppers. I scanned the room, feeling out
of place and the intense need to blend in. It was a shame spiral of
awkwardness- the more I tried to look like I was interested in my surroundings
and the ‘deals of the year’ which bled in every direction the more I was sure
my presence stuck out like a glob of cholesterol in an otherwise healthy and
productive artery.
I didn’t know a deal from rip-off from a steal. It was a sad
truth. I’d never been shopping. I was a shopping virgin.
My eyes flitted over to a mother-daughter pair devouring a
rack of red-tagged sweaters. They were intent, focused in a way I couldn’t
quite bring myself to understand let alone emulate. I watched the mother pull a
sweater from the rack, lay it over the other sweaters and pinch the knit fabric
between her thumb and forefinger. She tilted her head to the side, as though
listening to the sweater and the story it would tell her. She lifted the sleeve,
let it fall limp, then turned to her daughter. Their heads were together, the
issue of the sweater of utmost importance.
I wondered if the people who bought my clothes ever engaged
in a similar dance. Did they study the garments? Did they ask others for
opinions? Did they consider and reconsider? I thought it was unlikely.
I felt my mouth pull into a small frown. More likely the clothes were hastily
chosen in bulk based on the notoriety of the designer then filtered in quick
succession by either Michelle- my companion- or my grandmother.
The rack in front of me was heavy with pants. I pinched the
fabric of the pair in front of me like I’d witnessed the other shoppers do; the
material was thin- thinner than I’d expected- and coarse to the touch. My frown
deepened.
Somewhere out there were four large bodyguards catching hell
for my disappearance. I expected my escape to be liberating, exhilarating. I
hadn’t expected to feel so misplaced and uncomfortable.
“Is there anything I can help you find?”
My heart jumped to my throat and I lifted my head
automatically at the sound. I glanced around for the origin of the voice and
met the kind gaze of a girl- about my age or maybe a little older-a small smile
whispering over her lips.
“Um-“ I managed then swallowed, not really sure what to
say. I glanced from her to the pants then back again.
She watched me patiently for a beat, shifting on her feet,
“Are you looking for yourself or for someone else?”
“For myself…?” I was acutely aware that the statement
sounded like a question.
Her eyebrows lifted and her smile grew just slightly, “Well,
if you’re looking for yourself then let me take you to over to the other side,”
she indicated across the room with a tilt of her chin, “none of these are your
size.”
I nodded, biting my top lip, wanting to ask her how she
could tell but not wanting to sound like any more of a strange bird. Dutifully
I allowed her to lead me to the far side of the space; my eyes glanced toward
the elevator and the stairway and I attempted to suppress the flutter of nerves
when the lift doors opened. I turned my face away from the departing car
passengers just in case they belonged to my abandoned entourage. Not that it would have
done much good; they would have no difficulty picking me out of a crowd in my
current clothes; my height didn’t help matters either.
The girl glanced at me over her shoulder, giving me what I
interpreted to be a friendly smile, “I’m Sandra by the way.” She seemed to
hesitate for a moment then stuck out her hand. I took it immediately as it was
offered and we gave each other a single shake.
“I am Emiline.” As soon as my real name was out of my mouth
I silently cursed myself. I knew- if my picture wasn’t already all over the
place my name would be. I felt my cheeks burn.
Sandra didn’t seem to notice my discomfort and she made no
reaction to my name, “It’s nice to meet you, Emiline.” She motioned with her
hand toward two racks as we approached- red tags in place, fluttering all
around us; “Here we are. These pants are in your size and are tall.”
I studied the rack in front of me, chewing on my top lip,
“Thank you.” I lifted my eyes to hers, “You’ve been most-” movement behind
Sandra made my words stick in my throat.
Two imposing, thick necked men dressed in dark suits- I
recognized as Gerald and Henry- had just stepped off the elevator. I sucked in
a sharp breath and I felt my eyes go wide; impulsively, I ducked low behind the
rack of pants in my size. I knew I was being obvious but I couldn’t think of
what to do.
Sandra took a step closer to me, her expression confused and
cautious, “Are- are you ok?”
If they found me then that would be it. I wouldn’t get
another chance. Security would be doubled and I would be flown back home within
the hour.
I glanced up to Sandra with pleading eyes, “Uh. So-” I
licked my lips; I wasn’t ready to trust but knew I had no other options. Gerald
and Henry would find me in minutes without her help, “So, this is going to
sound crazy but I need your help: I’m an heiress and I’ve escaped my
bodyguards. If they find me then I’ll be sent back to my grandmother’s island
home where I’ll be left until I turn twenty-one. It’s awful. I’m lonely. I hate
it there. I don’t want to go back.”
I watched as a kaleidoscope of emotions mounted her features: shock then confusion then
disbelief then cautious sympathy. I swallowed hard, glancing around her toward
the direction of the elevator once more. I continued, returning my gaze to her
hazel eyes, “I need your help… will you help me?”
