Disclaimer: I don't own anything except Grace.
When I arrive home from work, I find that Roxanne has beaten me home. An impressive feat, considering my shift ended at three in the afternoon and Roxanne is the one with a full-time job.
"Hi, Grace!" Roxanne chirps from the living room. "There's pizza in the fridge if you want!"
I dump my bag underneath the mirror Roxanne has set up near the door. "You're back early." I was planning on actually utilizing Roxanne's apartment since she wouldn't hovering over my shoulder every time I looked up...but there goes that plan.
Roxanne's laughter floats through. "We finished shooting early! Besides, Hal had an allergic reaction to something at the place we were shooting at...Oh! Hal is-"
"Don't know, don't care."
Roxanne is next to me quicker than I could imagine. "That's rude. You sound like mom."
Better not tell mom her golden child is rebelling. She'll be crushed. Then again, she'll probably just find some way to blame me.
"Whatever. Pizza is...?"
"In the fridge," Roxanne answers, frowning at me. Well apparently she doesn't like my attitude. I go into the kitchen and investigate the pizza. It's meat lovers, which is my favourite flavour. I take out a couple slices and place them on a plate.
"Seriously, Gracie," Roxanne continues, having followed me into the kitchen. "You need to change your attitude. I mean, you wouldn't want to hang around someone who treats you like something on the bottom of their shoe, right?"
I think of Bernard and nod. "Too true." I don't know if my heart's in it though.
That little bit of agreement seems to make Roxanne happy, because she changes topics. "So I was thinking we go out for dinner tonight! Some place a little fancy, to celebrate you coming to Metro City."
I wrinkle my nose and take a bite of cold pizza. "Fancy? Do I have to?"
"Of course!" Roxanne insists. "There's plenty of nice places in Metro City!"
"Whatever. Just…tell me when we leave."
Roxanne looks a bit annoyed. "Seven o'clock. Grace-"
She's cut off by a loud jingling noise from my room. It's official, God loves me. "Oh would you look at that, my mobile phone is going off. You'll have to excuse me while I answer it, I don't want to be rude or anything." Before Roxanne can reply, I turn tail and flee to my room – pizza in hand.
"Hello?" I ask after picking up the phone. Okay, I know what it looks like. Yes I have a phone even though I have no friends. My uncle bought it for me. If you really want to know, I have a grand total of four phone numbers in it – Roxanne's, Richard's and my parents' secretaries'. My parents' secretaries are usually the only ones who wish me happy birthday. I'd like to pretend it's because they genuinely care for me and/or my parents asked them to, but I know it's only because they feel sorry for me.
"Wassup, Museum Girl?" chirps out of my phone. I nearly shriek from surprise and choke on my pizza.
"W-What? Keith? How did you get my number?"
"I asked Richard," Keith says cheerfully. "So, whatcha doing?"
"Eating pizza," I answer truthfully. A snort is his reply.
"You really spare no details, don't you?"
"What?" I ask, befuddled. "You asked and I answered. What else is there?"
"Well, just in case you were wondering, I'm watching TV," Keith said proudly. I snort.
"You sound so proud that you can afford it."
"Wait, wha- no! God, that's not what I meant!" Keith protests. "You know what, you're not very fun to talk to."
"You called me!" I snap.
"Big mistake," Keith mutters, but there's a teasing note in his voice. Is this what friends do?
Christ, do all friends treat each other worse than their enemies?
"Listen, if you don't have anything else to talk about, I'm leaving," I snap. "I have a very important dinner to get ready for."
"You know, typically people eat dinner at dinner time," Keith informs me. "Or is my family just special that way?"
"Okay, you caught me," I say. "I just wanted to stop talking to you."
Keith sniffs. "You're mean."
"Good gosh, I'm almost slightly bothered by that," I drawl and walk over to my closet, looking through my clothes. Okay, so to a fancy restaurant you're supposed to wear a dress…which I don't own. A further inspection of my wardrobe yields nothing fancier than a pair of tailored jeans with no holes in them and a shirt that could pass for fancy if no one looked at it for too long.
"Are you going to work tomorrow?" Keith asks me and I can hear his couch creak as he bounces on it.
"Why wouldn't I?" I ask, confused. Keith snorts.
"You are such a newbie. We can take five days of unannounced leave every year before we get into trouble. I've already used up three."
"…call me crazy, but I don't think that's a good idea."
Keith complies happily. "Crazy."
"Oh you're hilarious."
Roxanne purses her lips when she sees my outfit choice, but doesn't say anything. We take her news van to a restaurant called 'The Mango Leaf'. It's got an Oriental feel to it and all the waitresses are clad in skin-tight Mandarin gowns with slits up to their thighs on one side. The waiters are all dressed in Western clothes though. Go figure. We're seated almost immediately and Roxanne thanks the waiter, who looks a little giddy.
After placing our orders, Roxanne leans across the table with a large smile. "I got you a present!"
I eye her warily. "What is it?"
Roxanne slides a book across the table. It's titled '10 Best Museums in Metro City'. It's the sort of book you see in tourist centres, the one that holds information easily looked up on the internet. I become aware of Roxanne's expectant look and I manage a smile.
"Thanks, Roxie. This is great." I wonder if I can find – no, don't think of him, stupid. You don't even know him.
Roxanne's beam increases by about a million megawatts. Ouch, I think I just got blinded. "You're welcome, Gracie! I know you have your job, but you don't work every day, do you?"
I shake my head. "No, only on Mondays to Thursdays. I get Fridays and weekends off."
"Oh, okay!" Roxanne says, nodding and visibly memorizing the details. "And when's your shift?"
"From nine to three," I answer. Hey, it's like being back in school again. Only I'm not sitting there pretending to listen while actually reading a book on Chinese mythology. Oh, the memories.
"Nine to three," Roxanne repeats, head still bobbing up and down. "Okay. I think I got it. So how is your work, Grace? Are you having fun?"
As much fun as I could possibly have while serving caffeine addicts all day. "It's okay. I mean, it's a job, isn't? It isn't supposed to be fun."
Roxanne frowns. "That's not a very good attitude to take! You should enjoy what you do, not hate it."
Earth to Roxanne, the whole point of me coming here was so that I could get a job I hated! That's what mom said, didn't she?
"Sure, Roxie," I say, like I'm taking her advice. "Sure."
"And who are your co-workers?" Roxanne presses, tapping a manicured fingernail against the table.
"Well, there's my boss, Richard," I relay, thinking about it. "He's okay, I guess. And then I work with a guy named Keith."
"How old is Keith?" Roxanne asks, looking intrigued.
"About my age," I say slowly, not knowing where she's going with this.
"Is he cute?" Roxanne asks, slowly getting excited. I hope she's not planning on dating him. I don't want my first friend ever to be her boyfriend.
"I guess so," I answer, thinking about Keith. Well, he's not ugly. That makes him cute, right? A wide grin threatens to split Roxanne's face.
"Oh, so you like him?" she teases me. I frown.
"Of course I like him, he's my-" I catch the real meaning of what she said. "Oh. Oh god no! No no no! I don't like him that way!" He's too irritating for that.
"Sure, sure, Gracie," Roxanne says patronizingly. "So then if you don't like Keith, who do you like?"
"No one, Roxanne," I snap. God, I've only been here for a few days. "Trust me, the only men in my life are Julius Caesar, Rameses III…and…the like…"
The expression on Roxanne's face seems to scream 'that is more than a little sad, you loser!', but she only says, "Oh, okay. That's um…that's cool then."
Our food arrives and we eat in silence for a little while. Our conversations (what little we have of them) usually consists of:
Roxanne: This is nice.
Me: grunt
Roxanne: What about yours?
Me: grunt
Roxanne: Would you like some?
Me: No.
Roxanne: Sure?
Me: grunt
Roxanne: Can I have some of yours?
Me: grunt
Roxanne: lapses back into silence
The conversation: becomes seriously uncomfortable
I'm sure Roxanne's faith in my social skills was undeniable in that conversation. I distract myself by reciting random history facts in my mind.
In the great fire of London, in 1666, half of London was burnt down but only 6 people were injured.
Cleopatra married two of her brothers.
The average life span of a peasant during the medieval ages was 25 years
"Oh!" Roxanne says, surprised. She's staring out the window. I follow her line of sight, only to see the chubby red haired boy who was at the airport with Roxanne. His face is still a little puffy and red. He's staring intensely at Roxanne through the window in what I'm sure he thinks is not a scary or stalkerish way at all. "Hal!"
Hal looks embarrassed to be caught staring and hurries off. I look at Roxanne. "Roxanne, you have a stalker."
Roxanne laughs but I detect a note of slight fear in her laugh. "No, that's just Hal. He's my camera man. He's…um…"
"Creepy as hell."
"No!" Roxanne snaps, but I can tell by the look on her face that she agrees with me. "He's a nice guy. Just a little…lacking in social skills."
"A little?" I repeat doubtfully. Right. And I'm a little lacking in history books.
Though I am.
I so am.
We finish eating and Roxanne pays the bill.
"You wanna go?" Roxanne asks me, standing up. I practically leap to my feet, then pause and recompose myself.
"Well…if you insist."
Unfortunately, as soon as we step outside I find that no, we are not going home. Apparently when Roxanne asks if I want to go, she means if I want to leave the place we are currently at and head in the direction of the nearest mall.
"What about this one?" Roxanne asks, holding up a black miniskirt. I barely look at her, too busy looking at my watch.
"Roxanne, you have tons of skirts already. Why do you need another one?"
"Because I only have one black skirt!" Roxanne protests. "What if that skirt gets dirty, or I'm lending it to someone? I need another skirt!"
"Easily fixed," I reply, scowling. "Don't get it dirty and don't lend it to anyone. How much is it anyway?"
Roxanne looks at the price tag and I watch her face fall. "Oh, my last skirt was half that price! Oh…" She glances from side to side desperately, as if something around her would give her the answer. Seeing no such thing, she sighs, then makes a determined expression and nods. "Okay. I'm going to get it. What the hell, you only live once right?"
"Well, if you ask the Buddhists-" I begin, but trail off when Roxanne glares at me. "But we're not Buddhist. Sure. Whatever."
Roxanne beams, then swipes another one. This one's in a smaller size. I snap back to attention. "Wait, what are you doing? You're not even that size."
"Well, I was thinking you might need one!" Roxanne explains as she takes it over to the counter to pay. "You never know when a formal occasion will come up."
Even if a formal occasion came up, I really highly doubt I could wear a mini skirt to it. "No, Roxie!" I snap, snatching it away from her. "I'm not buying it!"
Her face falls. "But, Grace-"
"No buts," I say firmly and go to put it back on the rack. By the way, just keep in mind this – the skirt (despite its ceiling high price) is a sale item, so the rack's at the front of the store. Anyone walking by could see me holding that skirt.
Which is exactly what Bernard does.
He's strolling along casually, blank face…blank. He glances disinterestedly at my general direction, then raises an eyebrow when he sees me…or more precisely, the miniskirt.
Oh Christ.
He flicks his gaze from me to the skirt, then sends me a 'you have got to be kidding me' look. I flush and open my mouth to say something (though what I have no idea), but after sending me a doubtful look, gaze flicking to the skirt one last time, he's gone again. I stand there for the longest time, feeling my face get warmer and warmer, before a sense of indignation bubbles up within me. What the hell was that doubtful look supposed to mean, anyway? Was he saying I was too fat to fit into it? Too tomboyish? Well I'll show him!
With my mind made up, I march back to Roxanne and throw the skirt on the counter. "Roxie! I change my mind! I do need that skirt, as a matter of fact!"
Roxanne looks surprised, but pays for my skirt as well as hers. "What brought on the change of mind?"
"Nothing!" I say maybe a smidge too harshly, because Roxanne's eyebrows move up further.
"Okay, now I know something happened."
"Nothing happened!" I snap, anger and the slightest bit of embarrassment still crackling beneath the surface of my skin. "I just want the skirt, okay? What's wrong with that?"
If Roxanne's eyebrows move up any further, they're going to hit the ceiling. "Uh…okay then? You clearly don't want to talk about it…"
"No, I clearly don't!" I growl, crossing my arms petulantly across my chest. How dare Bernard? If I wanted to buy a miniskirt – which I didn't, but now have to thanks to him – then it was my business, not his! How could anyone be so…so…infuriating? He didn't even say anything!
Besides, most guys like it when girls wear miniskirts. Why the hell didn't he?
