Disclaimer: Not mine, don't sue.
A/N: I felt there needed to be a fic about this, so here it is.
"Er…can I help you?" A salesperson attempted to be friendly, but she just looked kinda scared of me. I smiled internally. She had dirty blonde hair and looked to be in her mid-40s. She wore a navy blue dress suit with high heels. Her name tag read "Kathy" and she reminded a little bit of Mrs. Girardi. She had the same air of genuine sincerity.
"I need the most preppy outfit you have," I responded, ignoring her look of confusion. I must've looked as out of place as I felt, standing there in my leather jacket and combat boots in the middle of a small boutique in town.
"I'm gonna need you to be a little more specific than that, dear." She seemed to be relaxing a little bit.
"Uh, okay. Anything that's bright and looks like something someone like me would never wear."
She laughed. This lady was breaking like every single rule of conduct in my book, first by calling me dear, and now by laughing at me. But even still, I didn't feel the need to glare at her.
"I think you'll find your size over here." She turned and lead me through a maze of clothes to the back of the store. The sign over head read "PETITE" in not so petite letters. She grabbed an outfit off the rack and held it in front of her. "You like this?" It was a pale blue and bright green striped polo with matching bright green capris. Did I like it? Absolutely not. But was it what I was looking for? Definitely.
"Yeah, sure. Whatever." I walked past her towards the cash register.
"You're not gonna try it on or anything?" she asked as she followed me.
"Nah."
I looked at myself in the mirror and cursed myself for giving a geek a leather jacket. What was I thinking? I'm just proving a point, I assured myself over and over. After one last look in the mirror and one last thought at how ridiculous I looked, I walked out of my room and slipped out the front door.
The walk over to Girardi's house had never been longer. I had my Doc Martens on, with a pair of heels in my hand that I had dug out from the back of my closet. I wasn't sure exactly why I owned them, but now really wasn't the time to question that. A few pedestrians gave me some odd looks, which just reassured my feeling that I looked preposterous.
Finally, I reached his house, but the place that was usually a sanctuary seemed foreign and unwelcoming. I stood on the porch for a good 10 minutes before finally mustering up the courage to knock. Unfortunately, it was Joan who answered.
"Grace," she said when saw me. "Holy crap," she exclaimed when she realized what I was wearing. "What the heck?" she managed to stutter out through bits of laughter.
"I'm here to prove a point," I replied, doing my best to give her a death stare.
"What kind of point could you possibly be proving in that?"
"That's none of your business." We stood there, me glaring at her, and Joan looking back at me in obvious amusement. "Is your brother home?" I asked after a few minutes of uncomfortable silence.
"What?" She seemed confused at first, but then redeemed herself. "Uh, yeah. He's up in his room." Her look of amusement faded and was replaced by a look of disgust that I chose to ignore.
I pushed past her and made my way up the stairs towards Girardi's room. When I was a few steps from the top, I took off my boots and replaced them with the gold heels. I stood up, gathered my courage, and marched up the last few steps and stood in the doorway.
He screamed like a girl when he saw me and looked like he was about to have a heart attack.
"What happened?" You'd think he'd just seen a ghost or something. Apparently, I was just that frightening.
"Oh, this?" I responded in the most preppy voice I could muster. "It's my new look. I'm also wearing a ton of perfume and I'll probably be saying things like 'no way' a lot."
"I don't think you're being logical. Have you looked in a mirror?"
Of course I'd looked in a mirror. For a geek, he wasn't very bright sometimes. Did he honestly think I didn't know how ridiculous I looked?
"Oh yeah. Kelly Green. The preppy thing totally works for me." I wanted nothing more than to sink into the floor and melt away. But I had a point to prove. So I mustered up my courage and made my way across the room and onto his bed.
"Grace, you can't look like that."
"How does it feel watching someone you thought you knew have a total personality transplant?" I asked, returning to my normal voice. I'd never liked the sound of it more.
"You gave me the jacket. I was trying to make you happy!"
"Well, stop. Because if you don't stop, I'm gonna kill you. Look, I panicked. It was like you were saying the whole Adam/Joan thing, they're so much alike and they didn't make it, and I over-thought it." I looked down, almost embarrassed that I'd just shared that with him, but also amazed at how easily it had come out
"You were worried…" I hated him for calling me on it.
"Drop the jacket, dude. This conversation is over," I said, regaining my composure.
"Ok. I'll take it off, but I won't give it back." He smirked and stood up to hang it up on the wall.
"What are you gonna do with it?"
"Just keep it around. Like art." He smiled, and I smiled back.
"Fair enough."
He made his way over to the bed and stood to meet him. Putting my arms around his neck, I leaned in to receive his kiss and felt comfortable for the first time all day.