Challenge Name and Number: Justice, #033
Drabble Title: An Odd Predicament
Word Count: 634 (not counting this italicized bit)
Warnings (if applicable): None
Pairings (if applicable): Mehhhh. Not really.
Author's note: …Yeah, I got nothing as to where this came from. I'm pretty sure I'm bending canon a little bit, but ah well. Also, my brain blanked on a title and a decent summary.
Summary: She's caught in a transitional phase at the moment
This is both demeaning and vastly unfair, but it's not like she really has a choice in the matter.
She eyes the clothes rack dispassionately, pointedly ignoring the group of texting, giggling middle school girls that are in the corner of the store; every few minutes she hears one of them let out a childish squeal before sharing whatever text message she had gotten from some boy. Then they'd all squeal over the stupid text, the pitch high enough to shatter glass—she swears that the lens in her glasses cracked that time.
She grimaces as she sifts through the rack, her green eyes looking over each article of clothing briefly before moving on in disgust. This shirt is too frilly. Those shorts are more like boxers. This belt is too Hannah Montana, those shoes are ridiculous, and that dress is…ugh, isn't there some kind of section that doesn't make her want to gag?
Normally she doesn't care about what she wears, but this time it's different. It's going to be the first time in months that she's seen him and she needs to make a better impression on him than she did last time. Besides, she's in college. She needs to at least look the part.
Of course, it doesn't help her at all that what that she's looking for doesn't come in her size; not even an extra small comes close, and that's how she's been reduced to shopping here.
Finally she manages to find something relatively close to her tastes (a blue plaid skirt and a pink button up sweater) and, after a quick trip to the dressing room, heads to the checkout with her purchase in tow; she's not particularly thrilled that her outfit can be compared to that of a preppy school girl, but it's either what she's carrying or that God-awful jumper that's sitting in the corner.
She approaches the counter and sets the clothes on it as she reaches into her purse; she finds her wallet and pulls out her student ID to use as a discount, setting it on the counter while she looks through the wallet for the thirty-five dollars Grandpa gave her.
It isn't until she feels the eyes of the clerk on her that she looks up again, a slight frown marring her features. She snaps out a testy, "What?" when she notices the skeptical expression on the woman's face.
The woman says nothing, alternating her disbelieving expression from the card to her, and then she realizes exactly what is running through the clerk's head and she scowls. "Is it that foreign a concept to your feeble mind that I'm a college student?" she asks scathingly, her nerves already frayed by the afternoon's expedition. "You don't need to call my guardian. I know exactly what I'm buying, thank you very much."
The woman purses her lips but says nothing further, ringing up the clothes and resuming her normal duties as a stores clerk. The saleswoman does not even say "Have a nice day," when she picks up her bag and walks out the door to meet her waiting grandfather—good. One less unintelligent conversation to deal with.
The worst sort of injustice has been inflicted on her today, Rebecca Hawkins decides irritably as she slides into the taxi. Not only has she been condescended to all day at every shop in town because of her age, she can't fit anything at the moment that she could before; although she's grown a few inches, she isn't tall enough to fit the clothes that she truly wants.
It's even more demeaning because now she has to shop at the Justice boutique to find anything in her size, just until this transitional phase is over and until she gets big enough to fit the larger clothes.