It was finally the weekend. I was still livid on what happened in the library. I was up late until four AM, finishing homework for real and signed up for the two classes, and finally went to sleep when every channel on TV was some paid programming. I can't believe that happened. I wish it turned out any other way, maybe never hit my head against tables and my foot against vending machines...

I was at home with Rachel while Chloe was at work, lazing around on the couch while the TV was on. We were still in our pajamas and paying more attention to our phones than each other.

Most of the time, Rachel was on her Instagram and checking her likes and comments. I was surprised Rachel could stay up to date with her Instagram account; Chloe must have been taking her to more places than she tells me. However, I, on the other hand (and trying to look through Tumblr), was still getting random text messages from a random number. Didn't I block it? No, that was a different number and I assumed that was him?

"Rachel," I put my phone down, wondering if I should block the number, "How do you deal with an ex that won't leave you alone?"

"Like in person or by phone?" She looked at me right away. She was bundled in her oversized hoodie and sweatpants, her hair up in a ponytail and sitting against the very end of the couch with her legs to her chest.

"It's by phone right now. He keeps texting me and asking to hang out." I crossed my arms. I leaned back and saw on Rachel's phone that she was Twitter now. "I mean... I think it's him."

He never texted me like this before. Asking so many questions, wanting to see each other again, I'm more freaked out than anything.

"You think?"

"I already blocked a number a week ago and I thought that was him. Now there's this number. It has been bothering me since yesterday." My phone's screen lit up, showing another text message from the unknown number.

"I would block him, or them, whoever it is. How do you know it's him and not some creeper that got your number?"

"Well, the first things it sent were like "miss you" and some lovey-dovey stuff. Plus, he's the only person I've dated, I don't know anyone who would give my number like that." I don't know anyone who would do something so shitty. Makes me nervous if I did know someone like that...

"That's true. If it took this long to text you again, he must still be single too."

It was a possibility. The thought of even seeing him again made my heart sink. It didn't end bad, but I felt like I just lead him on. I left Arcadia Bay to get away from all that shit and if it was following me, I would lose my mind. I took my phone again, went to his number, but my thumb hovered over the "block" option. He seemed hurt enough through these messages, but I never wanted to see them again.

"I can see you hesitating." Rachel addressed it in a worrying tone.

"I don't know why I am."

"Or you know something I don't know. You're dodging eye contact."

Remembering how I broke up with him is so... awful right now. The older I get, the worse the feeling became. It felt heavy, a different kind. It was like an embarrassing memory from childhood—it makes me want to slap myself!

"Are you having a fight with yourself or something?"

"Huh?" I snapped out, connecting eye contact again. She had her hand on my shoulder, trying to shake me out of whatever-trance I was stuck in. Her eyebrows were furrowed together, as if trying to find me again.

She grabbed my phone and turned the screen off, "Okay, you don't have to do it right now. Maybe we should do something!"

"What's something?" Last time she made me do something, I ate at the bar of a club. I didn't hate her ideas, but I wasn't sure if stuff like that were really helping me at all. They were more her definition of "fun." I attempted and nearly had another panic attack.

"Well, from your tone, is there something you want to do?" She asked with a smile. "Do something that makes you comfortable!"

I thought about it. There were a lot of things that we've done, but not just both of us. We were always three and she and Chloe were the ones who came up with ideas. Having the choice this time, it was exciting yet underwhelming. Since Rachel was walking for high-profile designers and wearing clothing that could pay for my debt, I was curious about her fashion sense. "I kinda always wondered what it was like to shop with you. We could go to the outlet and go into—"

She gasped, gripping my shoulder, "Maybe that's why you're anxious and nervous!"

"Because I want to shop?"

"No, because sometimes people need a new makeover. Maybe the clothes you've had for years remind you of your past and all the bad shit in it. Done! We're going!" She jumped off the couch and went into the bedroom, peeking her head out the door again, "Gonna shower. How do you want to get there?"

"How? What do you mean?"

"Like, walking, bus, Uber, Lyft...? Limo again?"

I was kind of sick of the limo. On a random day like this, riding around in it would be a dick move and annoying. At least to me it was, like we were being show-offs.

"How about bus? I had to use it a few times when Chloe was sick and we could take trains too."

"You got it."


"You know what? This is hella nice."

We were riding in a cable car, sort of like like a mixed up bus and train, attached to a cable and moved back and forth along a rail. The last time I've used one was when I first moved here, wanting to explore and take any photos to fill a wall at home. I finished it, along with some fairy lights and lanterns, like my room was back in Blackwell.

"You're not worried about being noticed?"

She waved her hand, "Can't run around with a big coat and mask on now, can I. I'm having a good day, so I'll welcome them with open arms."

"I'm a pretty shitty bodyguard, don't you think?"

"Good thing you aren't then, right Max?" She patted me on the back, smiling at me. "You're not obligated to guard me. I'll be fine. Remember the story I told you? When I hit a dude with a wood plank?"

I can't imagine actually hitting someone... I mean, I nearly shot someone once, but it wasn't loaded! Rachel didn't see that...

I nodded, "He was gonna hurt Chloe, right?"

"Yup, motherfucker's dead now."

"... Because of the plank?"

"No, he's just dead."

"H-how do you know?"

"Just a feeling." She said it with such a nonchalant attitude, it sent a shiver down my spine. I let the silence set in, trying to take my mind off of what I just heard. She's not joking... She wouldn't joke about someone she said to hated so much about being dead...

I pulled my camera out of my bag, finally seeing a opportunity: Rachel, gazing out the window as cable car traveled, holding onto a silver pole to keep her balanced. There wasn't a lot of people on it with us, so I backed up and steadied myself.

"Stay like that." I spoke up. I saw her hand's grip tighten around the pole, then took the shot. That helped for a moment as I shook the polaroid to dry and develop.

"You know what," Rachel turned around to look at me, "I wanna shop for you. I'm not saying your style's bad or anything! It's getting there, but I wanna get something for you. Even though you're literally wearing the outfit you wore every day at Blackwell today."

I grabbed my jacket, ready to defend myself and my style. I was comfortable—dare I say, hella comfortable—in what I had right now. I never planned on changing it and I never thought about it, though I couldn't say no to Rachel. I did look the same from a year ago.

"It feels like I never left."

"Is that good or bad?"

"... Both. It's nice to feel that way, but I remember it has been ten months since we've seen each other."

"That's fair," I laughed lightly. The cable car stopped and we got off it, walking together on the sidewalk. "Alright, what do you have in mind?"

"I have a few ideas. All of them have to do with impressing Kate." She winked at me.

"You should've seen her yesterday. She had her hair in this braid and wearing all black. I was losing my freaking mind."

"I thought you were losing your mind when you were hitting your head, but sure, it was her."

I shrugged my shoulders. I'm surprised I didn't get a headache from that.


We continued on our walk towards the front entrance of the outlet, outdoors and semi-busy. Most of the stores were places like Coach, Prada, Tory Burch, and Michael Kors—all places I would never shop in. The outdoor mall was full of people, mostly foreign people from what I could tell from their languages, holding about ten bags in each hand, there with their families, or just alone.

"Okay, let's start," Rachel scanned through the stores left and right as we strolled through the middle, "What kind of style are you looking for?"

When that sentence ended, I forgot who I was. I stared down at my body, looking at my jeans and Jane Doe shirt. I just wanted to be casual and comfy, but it made me look very awkward. I might also need a bag that was not a messenger? I didn't know for sure.

Rachel started talking again, "I'm thinking you should try a more skater look right now. Chloe has always been a punk ass, so I'm trying not to copy her style."

"So, more plaid is what you're saying?"

"Exactly, but I know you don't really skate, but Chloe and I can teach that, too. We should order online too! I've seen some cute off-white sweaters you would love."

"That brand costs hundreds of dollars, right?"

"Yeah... and?" Rachel truly had a lot to spend. I thought about it and there were some nice things we could just get online, but what if she turned me into a fuckboy of some kind? Or was it called fuckgirl?

"Are you going to turn me into a fuckboy, Rachel?" I acted appalled.

"Wow, I didn't even realize I was," Rachel cracked up, "If you want to look at it that way, yeah! There's a Vans store, right there, so we're going in there now!"

We ran into the large store, greeted by the smell of brand new shoes, loud music, and went to the women's side first.

"Forty dollars is a lot, but don't worry." Rachel started to look through the racks. I was definitely uncomfortable with that, but she was okay with it. That price alone was just for sweaters, what was she going to do?

We decided to separate and I aimlessly walked around. It was a little packed inside, because Vans always have a two for the price of one for shoes. It was always dark and loud pop music always played inside. I always liked the brick walls and how lots of jackets and backpacks would line them all the way up to the ceiling. Everything's so expensive... This was going to the most expensive closet I've ever own, thanks to Rachel being so giving. I past the backpack three times before I decided to stay there.

I was alarmed by a few screams, all of which were screams of joy, which were clearly for Rachel. I knew going without a guard wouldn't be so good... I hope she's okay over there.


I wasn't paying attention to time. In a store like cans, I feel like every person who enters would get lost staring at shoes. There were so many, you couldn't help but imagine yourself wearing nearly every one of them. I was no different. Mine were so old and torn, just like my notebook.

I heard someone stumbling behind me. I didn't think much about it, as my first instinct was to become anxious and beg to not be interacted with. However, I had to look.

"Max, there you are!" Rachel's arms were full of shirts and flannels. "A lot of their shirts are really cute, but they're called "boyfriend tees" and that's yikes. I found a bunch of these flannels in red and blue. I found some baseball tees and hoodies and sweaters; I can't wait for you to wear them!"

I didn't want to explain how hot it was, but I knew they were on sale and were about seventy percent off. I couldn't say "no" to a sale. If I counted it all, though, it still added up to about four hundred dollars. I think I'm lightheaded right now...

"I'm going to buy these, for now, and keep looking." She took the pile back and then went to the line. I snickered a bit, but I appreciated what Rachel was doing. I left the store for a bit—one of the reasons were I was feeling sick in here—and called Chloe. I had to call her twice because she didn't answer the first time.

"Yeah?" She sounded pissed off.

"Are you okay?"

"Sorry, there was this customer that made me want to lose my shit," She growled, "What's up?"

"Rachel and I decided to leave and we went to the outlet. It took a long time, but Rachel is paying for everything."

"Oh, that's cool."

"Do you want anything?" We should get something even if she said no.

"If you want, but I'm happy with everything I have right now."

It wasn't a no, but we should get something small. I was given about fifty dollars from Chloe, so I wasn't left with one dollar anymore. Rachel came up to me with two huge bags; she looked so excited from her smile to the shine in her eyes.

"We'll think about it. Gotta go now, we have more shopping to do."

"'Kay, have fun. Pick you up later?"

"Yes, please. See you later." I put my phone back into my pocket. I took the bags from Rachel and I immediately felt ten times heavier.

"I need to go in there one more time. I saw pants and shoes on the way out for the both of us." Rachel was very animated, but it was also contagious. My smile couldn't be helped.

"We should get Chloe something," I advised, "That's what I was talking about with her."

"I was planning on it, but in a different store. Is there something in here you want to get her?"

"I was just thinking of a beanie. I want one too, so could you get two?"

"Yeah, just sit somewhere and I'll be out."

I watched as she went back into the store. I faltered a lot towards a nearby bench. It was empty, thankfully. I sat down, loudly. I took my phone out and went through my apps, greeted by those damn text messages again. It was only the beginning of our spree and I could practically replace all of my clothes. It felt so nice to be treated so well, but at the same time, it was a heavy burden too. Would she still treat me like this if she knew I was still hiding Chloe's problem?


It was another thirty minutes before Rachel came back out again, holding three bags. I could tell one had two boxes in it. She plopped herself next to me; she was still smiling widely.

"Being recognized is tiring sometimes." Rachel flipped her blonde hair. She placed the bags on the empty seats next to us.

"I can't imagine," I sat up straight, "Must be annoying sometimes too." I wouldn't know what to do if I was recognized all the time... I would be way more stressed than now, that's for sure.

"That hasn't happened yet. When I'm irritated or it's, you know, the week, I won't leave home. I wouldn't want anyone to feel like I hate them."

I nodded, "I would do the same. So, where to next?"

"I need to go to Versace and Lacoste," she stood up again, "I want to buy Chloe some nice outfits for dates I want to take her on. I'll go to Jimmy Choo and Gucci for myself at the end."

I was rendered speechless by those stores being named so casually.

"By the way, Max, I think a better word to describe your style is just being a tomboy or androgynous, even."

She was doing that to me and Chloe. I was going to surprise myself when we went back home, but I ended up looking into the bags within the thirty minutes she was gone. I was actually pretty into it; I think she was just getting me away from the hipster style as much as possible, though.

"Alright, Max," Rachel grabbed two bags, "Let's go."

"Hold on," I took my phone out again, "Strike a pose, Rachel Amber."

She did multiple ones, some she obviously learned from modelling and some she just did awkward poses with two heavy bags. She looked great either way, if it were me, all of them would be bad. I put the camera and pictures away and grabbed the other three bags.


It was a path in the order she named them. When I went into Versace, I felt like throwing up. The prices ranged from as low as three-hundred (for coin purses) and as high as three thousand (for pants). I was intimidated by the name above the opening, black and bold, and it was all gold inside. I couldn't stand being inside because I didn't belong there. Rachel was looking around, got recognized once again and was apparently given a hefty discount. She was looking at pants from a rack next to a mannequin; it was black and looked to be skin tight.

"Do you know Chloe's size?" Rachel asked me.

"Uh... tall?" I choked.

Rachel laughed out, "I know it. I was just testing you."

Wowser, Max... you failed a test... again.

She ended up with the pants (six-hundred and ninety-five dollars) and a black watch (one-thousand, three-hundred and ninety-five dollars).

"You okay?" Rachel placed her hand on my back. The bags in her hand hit me in the butt.

"... This is a lot of money you're spending." I was barely functioning.

"I'm barely making a dent. I've been checking my account all day."

How much did she have to spend if it was barely?

"I went through hell and back for this career, you know?" She sat down at a bench and I followed her, placing the bags on the floor.

She continued after a deep sigh, "When I met Chloe, she was going through a lot of terrible shit. She thought everyone was out to get her and that she was driving everyone in her life out. And you, I can see you still trying, to this day, to redeem yourself for shit you did. Chloe is a lot more grateful than you think. I admire that and I admire her for getting here. She has changed a lot for good. I just want to spoil you guys because I feel it's deserved."

I nodded as she spoke. Rachel was an amazing person. She was charming and she just knew how to connect with everyone. She wanted happiness in general and did a lot in order to help herself and us. I hoped I didn't look like I was taking any of it for granted.

I finally smiled, "I'm sorry, Rachel. I do love everything you're doing. Even when our furniture is complete garbage."

"Is it really complete garbage if it makes you happy? I don't know about you, but I'm hella happy there. Way happier than being in New York."