14 f o u r t e e n : transparency

"Gen?"

I whip around to the direction of the mystery voice.

Claire's feeding some pigeons with crackers from her bag.

"Jake?"

"Hey, what are you doing here?"

I brush some fly-aways from my face. "Enjoying the park, I guess. I'm here with a friend."

He nods with a bright grin.

I can hear Claire in the distance, rolling her tongue, trying to communicate with the pigeons, I guess.

He eyes me up and down. I know that look. I should have known it earlier.

"Why are, um, you here?" I stutter.

"Pregaming before a party I'm going to—it's just around the corner," he gestures to a water bottle he's holding… most likely not fulfilling its original purpose.

"Oh, wow."

"You should come."

I glance toward Claire. She's dressed in a T-shirt that Marie's Soups gifted all the volunteers and some jeans. I'm dressed like I'm getting ready for spin class.

"I don't know," I bite my lip. "It's just a regular day for me. I'll catch you later, though."

He shrugs then waves goodbye.

I head over to where Claire's feeding the pigeons and she seems utterly distraught.

"What was that?" she asks.

"This guy I met at a coffee shop earlier," I shrug.

She doesn't seem to think it's not a big deal.

"I want to go to the party!"

"What? You were eavesdropping? What about the birds..."

She rolls her eyes. "Fuck the birds. How do you manage to attract all these hot guys?"

"What hot guys?"

She crosses her arms. "You know what's worse than a pretty girl?"

I glance around.

"A pretty and oblivious girl," she blurts, grabbing my arm and leading us out of the park.

Before I know it, she's pulling me into a boutique.

"We should find something to wear to the party," she smirks.

"We are not going to the party," I cross my arms.

"Yes, we are," she says with finality.

"Even if we are, this shit is too expensive," I say, fondling one of the price tags. "I have good enough clothes at home."

"We could at least play dress up," she plasters on a mischievous grin.

I smile back.

"Hurry up!" I yell outside the dressing room. "I need someone to see my outfit."

I can't look this gorgeous without a witness.

"Wait, I'm trying to get this zipper up," she says, but it's muffled.

"I'll help you," I sigh.

She reluctantly opens the changing room door, facing her back to me. I attempt to zip it for her, but it won't budge.

"It-It won't go up."

I grunt, pulling the metal with all my might.

"Just… pull it up!" she shouts.

"I-I'm trying," I huff. My hands get prickled with sweat, and I let go of it.

"Sorry, it's not budging," I shrug.

"Just… try."

I look up at the back of her head and notice her breathing has picked up.

"Are you okay?" I ask.

She sighs deeply. "Just zip it up… please."

"I think we're going to need to get you another size," I sigh.

From her face's reflection in the mirror, I can tell that I've struck a nerve.

"You mean a bigger size?"

I shrug nonchalantly. Yes.

Claire's back starts to sweat, and she starts rapidly clawing at her hair.

"Is everything okay in there?" a store clerk asks.

"Fuck, okay. Let's get this off you. Okay?"

I unzip the dress and close the door behind her.

I rest my back against the wall in between the changing room doors. What the hell just happened?

"This way," she begins, much more optimistically than she felt before, "we'll approach Madison Square Garden—the place you always hear about on TV…"

After a more than awkward silence, we exited that boutique. Of course, we didn't purchase anything. I looked smoking in the outfit I put together, but I refrained from showcasing that too much…

Instead of prying Claire for details, I act immersed in her depiction of the wonderful structure that is Madison Square Garden.

"We should go to a concert together," she remarks optimistically.

"Yeah."

I instinctively pick at my lips, debating on how to proceed.

"I—" I start.

"Hmm?" she turns around sharply.

"Uh, nothing," I smile.

"So, I was thinking that tonight we should maybe do a pre-party dress up thing?"

"Um, sure. We can do it at my house."

It'll be good for my parents to see me return to some form of normalcy.

Shortly, we return to my car at Marie's.

"Hmm, regretting what you said about cars in New York City now, huh?"

"Okay, but we're driving outside of the city… to whatever farm town you live in," she rolls her eyes.

I return the action. "I live like 20 minutes outside the city at most."

She just connects her phone to the aux and plays her music on full blast.

"Hey honey," mom greets us as we arrive.

"Hey, mom. This is my friend Claire. I met her in the city."

"Hello, Claire," she waves.

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Williams," she beams.

"Okay, now that niceties are over, we're going upstairs," I say.

Claire goes ahead of me, seeming to know exactly how to find my room.

"We actually want to go to this party later on."

She nods, "Okay. Make sure you're back before 1."

I follow Claire's steps to my room.

"Did we get the green light?"

"Yep," I nod.

"Ooh, trophies," she gasps with false excitement.

I roll my eyes. "Stop, you'll smudge."

She senses my sarcasm and smirks back. "Wouldn't want to ruin these beautiful relics!"

"Shut up," I giggle.

"Aww," she coos.

"What?"

"This pic of you and your boyfriend."

I sigh. We took that picture on a school trip to Pennsylvania.

"You guys are so cute. Gen and Aaron, sitting in a tree. K-I-S-S-I-N—"

"Shut up," I whine.

She shifts her stance. "You know, I've noticed something about you."

I wrinkle my nose. What?

She sets the picture back down. "You're very secretive."

"Secretive?"

Okay… just because I don't let my life story be known to an almost complete stranger, it does not mean that I'm secretive.

"Yeah. Every time we get to the subject of your love life, you completely shut down—even discussing minor crushes," she says lowly.

I shrug. "I just don't make boys my whole life."

She rolls her eyes, fingering my picture frames. "It's more than that. You barely had a reaction when we talked about Drake Staple—our supervisor," she says seductively.

I roll my eyes right back. "An acknowledgement of his appearance does not need a reaction."

She crosses her arms, unconvinced. "And whenever I mention your boyfriend, you just freeze up—you seem to close down your emotions. I'm willing to be transparent with you if you're willing to do the same."

She takes a seat at the foot of my bed and sighs deeply. I can already tell what she's talking about.

"Do-Does he hit you?" she whispers.

I gasp. "What? Of course, not. What happened in the dressing room today?"

She looks around the room, seemingly deciding whether to respond or not. "You first."