Disclaimer: That's right, it's time for another chapter of this worthless story. The disclaimers are as usual. There's a new character! It's my friend Sabrina, except her name is Pandora. And this chapter is really long to make up for the short chapters that proceeded it.

Chapter Ten: Lord of the Fashion and the Pink Philosophy

"Remind me again why we're going shopping," Chad groaned as Spinelli dragged him into Old Navy.

"Clothes," came Spinelli's muffled reply as she disappeared behind a rack of shirts.

Chad rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I got that much, but why?"

She poked her head out from around the shirts and smiled. "I need a new look. I can't very well go back to school looking like this."

"Oh," Chad said with a frown and Spinelli disappeared behind the rack again. "Girls are weird."

"What was that?"

"Nothing. You're doing this wrong." He jabbed at one of the shirts on display and twitched his nose. "All wrong."

With a sigh, Spinelli walked around the shirts and stood before him, her hands on her hips. "What am I doing wrong? Shopping?" Chad nodded. "Okay, I admit I don't do this very often – in fact, I've never actually been shopping out of free will, but I think I know how to buy a shirt."

Chad snorted. "You tryin' to look like a prep, then?"

"What do you mean?"

"This," he gestured to the happy clothes around them, "is where girls with names like Vanessa and Rebecca shop. Not where girls with names like Spinelli shop."

She snorted. "Oh, well I guess you'd know more about that than me," she paused and glanced pointedly at his AC/DC shirt and cutoff shorts, "Mr. Fashion."

Chad smirked. "That's right."

"Well then, what should I do first, oh mighty Fashion God?"

"Get out of this store, to start." Chad grabbed her arm and pulled her outside. "Okay." He gave her a critical once-over and pulled the orange hat off her head. "Are you incredibly attached to your hair?"

She brought a hand up to smooth down her curls. "Well it kinda grows out of my head, so yeah." She frowned. "Why?"

"Ever thought about getting it cut?"

Her eyes grew wide and she slowly shook her head. "No way, man. Out of the question."

Chad shrugged. "Okay. Then the first step is getting rid of this hat," he said, waving the orange thing in the air and then tossing it in the nearest garbage can.

"Hey!" Spinelli exclaimed and made a leap for the bin. "That was mine!"

"And now it's the rats'. It was smelly. It had to go."

She stuck out her bottom lip in a pout and turned away from him. He rolled his eyes. "C'mon, Spinelli. It was just a hat."

"No, it was a special hat," she whined.

"It was orange. How special could it be?" He paused. "Unless…"

She turned to face him again. "Yeah, unless."

"He gave it to you, didn't he?"

Emotions Chad didn't know an eleven-year-old could feel flashed in Spinelli's eyes. Then she shuttered them and gave him a blank stare.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Chad sighed. "Fine. Let's consider this a closed subject for now. No more talk of T.J. for the rest of the day."

She gave him a stiff smile and seemed to relax a bit. "'Kay."

"Okay, I never thought I'd hear myself say this, but…let's go shopping."

Spinelli laughed. "Yes, Lord of the Fashion."

"Shut up, you."

* * * * *

"I'm tired. Are we done yet? Do I really need all this? Chad, I don't need another shirt. Please, have mercy!" Spinelli flopped down on the closest bench and dropped all her shopping bags on the ground.

"Just one more," Chad begged and looked longingly in the window of a store at a black Atticus t-shirt. "You don't have that one yet."

"Yeah, but I have every other shirt from every other store. I really don't think it'll matter. Besides, I have no money left." She dug her wallet out of her pocket and stuck a finger inside the part where the money should've been. "I started with a hundred dollars, and now I'm down to fifteen cents. Hang on, you spent that on candy. I'm poor," she wailed.

"Don't do that," Chad exclaimed and clamped his hand over his ears. "It hurts."

She rolled her eyes. "Sorry."

"I'll be right back." He made a beeline for the store with the shirt and Spinelli gave an exasperated groan.

"Oh, that was subtle," she muttered and mindlessly poked through her many bags to pass time. Five minutes later, Chad emerged from the store triumphant, carrying yet another bag in his hand.

"Chad, I – don't – need – another – shirt. Really."

He sat down beside her and thrust the bag in her face. "It's a gift."

Spinelli raised an eyebrow at him. "Is it now? Why?"

"Why not?"

"Um…because you don't really know me and…why?"

He shrugged. "You've been nice to me, and you liked our music." He gave her a sly grin. "And it'll look good on you."

"Riiight." She gave him a funny look. "Well then. You can carry these bags home for me, since you're the one who forced me to buy them." She shoved more than half the bags at him and stood up.

"Hey, don't I get a thanks?"

"Yeah, thanks."

He looked disappointed. "That's not what I was expecting."

"Huh?"

"Never mind. Where are we going?"

"My house to drop all this stuff off, and so I can get changed."

Chad hefted the bags onto his shoulders and tried to balance a shoebox on his head. "Right. And how far is your house from here?"

"Eight blocks."

"Goddamn it!"

"Don't use the Lord's name in vain."

"Oh, shut up. You do it too."

"That's beside the point." She grabbed the shoebox before it fell. "Why are you just standing there? Let's get moving."

Chad muttered something that sounded very similar to "Girls are stupid."

Spinelli responded by slapping him on the back of the head.

"Ow! What was that for?"

She fluttered her eyelashes at him. "I'm a girl. I do stupid things." She sauntered past him, hips moving back and forth in an exaggerated manner, shoebox balanced precariously on top of her head.

Chad grinned at her retreating back. "Where'd you learn to walk like that?"

She froze and the shoebox fell to the ground. "I – uh – don't know what you mean. Walk like what?" With trembling hands she picked up the sneakers that had been tipped out of the box.

"Like a model or pageant girly." Chad put his hands on his hips and wiggled around a bit. "Like that."

The tension evaporated from her body and Spinelli laughed. "I so did not walk like that. You look like a retarded noodle."

He raised an eyebrow at her. "A retarded noodle? Well then, why don't you show me exactly the way you walked."

She stuck her nose in the air. "Fine. I will." She shoved the shoebox into his hands and, with an air of superiority and pride, she replayed her catwalk strut, this time with a little more grace and emphasis.

Chad's mouth dropped open. "How – "

She smirked at him. "Little Miss Blush 1999, thank you very much." She grabbed the shoebox from him and headed down the street again.

"You were in a beauty pageant?" His eyes grew wide and he sucked in his breath. "I need to sit down." But instead, he fell in line with Spinelli, and tried to imagine this crude, kick-ass girl in army boots in some la-dee-da pretty-fest.

Spinelli rolled her eyes. "Oh come on, it's not that hard to believe, is it?"

He gave her a skeptical look. "Yes," he said without hesitation.

Spinelli pouted. "You don't think I'm beauty pageant material?"

The blood drained from Chad's face and his eyes became panicked. "No – I mean, sure – uh…yes?"

There was silence…for about two seconds, and then Spinelli snorted. "The pageant was a joke."

"You mean it wasn't real? You made it all up?" He looked so hopeful, Spinelli began to wonder if he had a thing against pageants.

She shook her head. "No, it was real. The concept of it was a joke, though. All the answers had to be about world peace and all that junk."

"World peace," Chad muttered and Spinelli grinned.

"Exactly what I said. But I answered their dumb questions, and then, when they put me through the final cut, I did what I could to screw it up. And yet I won," she said thoughtfully. "They said I was what every Miss Blush contestant should be – herself." She shrugged. "They were old and probably senile. So whatever."

"Mmm."

Chad seemed to have passed the stunned and horrified stage, and had moved on to subtle acceptance. That was fine with Spinelli.

They walked together in quiet semi-understanding until they reached a small rancher and Spinelli spread her arms out. "Well," she said. "This is it."

"This is what?"

"Home sweet home."

"Great," Chad muttered. "Now can we get inside before I die from suffocation?"

* * * * *

TJ could feel blisters forming on the bottom of his feet. Beads of perspiration were forming on his forehead; he felt like he'd been walking for hours, but when he glanced at his watch, he was surprised to find that he'd only been gone for three-quarters of an hour. He'd taken the old, blind man's advice and gone down the alley, but it had taken him nowhere. In fact, it had been a dead end. When he'd emerged out into the dim light of the street, the old man was nowhere to be seen.

So now, here he was, trudging his way back to 3rd Street Elementary, painful blisters on the soles of his feet, and not a clue as to where Spinelli had disappeared to. She wasn't at home; he'd checked half an hour ago. She wasn't at the Arcade; neither was she at Kelso's. He'd run out of places to look. So now he was giving up, like the coward he was.

Coward, he scoffed inwardly. If it wasn't for my stupid idea, I wouldn't have to look for Spinelli. We'd be playing dodgeball right about now.

But they weren't, and he'd pretty much screwed up his entire friendship with Spinelli. Granted, the whole fight scene was just a fake, but no one else knew that, except their friends, and that's the way it had to stay.

As he neared the school, he could hear the familiar playground noises of kids laughing and basketballs bouncing. He even heard the scraping of metal on dirt, the Diggers beginning yet another hole. What he didn't hear, however, was the husky voice of a certain girl threatening other children with her fist.

He sighed and sat down on the curb. Oh, how he missed that voice.

T.J. was so caught up in his memories of Spinelli he didn't see the little girl until she let out a pitiful, heaving sob. He jumped and turned to her.

"Ah…are you okay?" he asked and edged away from her.

The girl looked up at him with red eyes and tears streaming down her face. "I – I – " she sobbed and began to wail.

T.J. blinked. "Um…you want a tissue or something?"

The girl shook her head. "No…I – I want – my – brother! Waaaah!" She buried her face in her hands.

With a silent curse, T.J. moved a little closer to the girl. "What's your name? I haven't seen you around here before."

The girl ceased her crying a bit and peered at him. He has pretty eyes, she thought and gave him a little smile. "Pandora," she whispered, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. "Pandora L. Williams."

Williams, T.J. repeated to himself. That sounds familiar.

She blushed when he grinned at her. "That's an interesting name," he said and stuck out his hand. "I'm T.J. Detweiler."

Pandora hiccuped and shook his hand. "What does T.J. stand for?" she asked and scuttled up next to him.

T.J. cleared his throat. "Aah…nothing. It's just T.J."

"Oh, but it's got to stand for something. Like my middle initial stands for Louise. It's my mama's name, and my grandmama's name, and my great-grandmama's name."

"I see. Well it's nice to meet you, Pandora Louise Williams. Why are you crying?"

She looked at the ground and tears started to fall from her eyes again. "I lost my brother."

"You did? Is he younger than you?"

"No, he's older. And lots smarter. And he never, never gets lost. But I do. I get lost all the time. Just like today."

"Hmm. What's your brother's name?"

"Chewy."

T.J. raised an eyebrow. "Chewy? Chewy and Pandora. Your parents must have been hippies or something."

Pandora smiled. "No, they just liked to read."

"Um, okay. So where did this – Chewy lose you?"

She blushed a little again. "Well, he didn't really lose me. I was supposed to meet him in front of Kelso's at 10:00, but I got lost."

"Kelso's, huh? Well I can take you there, if you want. It's only a couple blocks away."

"Really? You'd do that?" Pandora gave him an adoring look. "You're the greatest, T.J."

This time, it was T.J.'s turn to blush. "Ahh, well, you know. It's all for the good of…stuff…and…yeah. No problem." He stood up and offered his hand. "Come on."

Pandora gripped his hand and he pulled her to her feet, but when he tried to let go, she just held on tighter. His blush deepened and he prayed no one from the school would see him.

"Why are you sad?"

The question pulled him out of his reverie and he glanced down at the little girl in the pink sweater. "What?"

"Why are you sad? What made you sad?"

"I'm not sad."

"Yes, you are. I can see it in your eyes."

"I'm not – " She already knows, a small voice told him. She knows what no one else could see. Why don't you just tell her?

He sighed. "Your parents did a good job choosing your name." She grinned at him and he saw that she was missing one of her bottom teeth. "Did the tooth fairy bring you money for that?" He pointed at her mouth.

She stuck her tongue through the gap. "A whole dollar. But you're changing the subject. Chewy does that sometimes, too. You're a lot like him."

T.J. sighed again, this time more dramatically. "All right, I'll tell you why I'm sad. But you can't tell a soul what I'm about to reveal to you," he warned her and wagged his finger in her face.

She giggled and shook her head. "I'm the best at keeping secrets."

"Good. So you see, there's this girl – "

"Chewy always says that, too!"

"Oh yeah? Well Chewy seems like he's got the same problems I do. So anyways, this girl and me, we used to be real good friends. But then we realized that we – you know, liked each other, and then this loser named Randall found out about us, and since Sp – this girl has a reputation to keep at school, we had to stage this fight between me and her. And then I said some stuff that made her a little angry, and now she probably hates me and will never talk to me again." T.J. sucked in a breath of air and waited for the little girl's response.

Pandora dropped his hand and tugged on his arm. "I think you still like her, and if she did all that stuff, then she likes you too."

T.J. shrugged. "Not after what happened."

"No, she's just scared."

"Scared?" He tried to picture Spinelli being afraid of something and nearly laughed. "Naw, this girl's not afraid of anything."

"Everyone's afraid of something," Pandora said simply and walked a bit ahead. "Maybe she's afraid of everyone finding out she's changed."

T.J. stopped and stared at the little girl in the pink sweater and pigtails standing before him, philosophizing about fears and change.

"How old are you?" he asked.

"Eight. Look! There's Kelso's! Thanks a bunch, T.J." She ran toward the entrance, then stopped and turned around to face him again. "And I hope you and that girl become friends again."

"Me too," he murmured and watched the pink sweater disappear into the store. "Me too."