I.

Her art teacher wants them to tie dye.  It must be his hippie side talking, because she has no idea how it pertains to making portfolios for college.  But she doesn't mind, really.  It's kind of fun, and exams have left her tired.

She only asks Roy to drive her to the mall if she has a good reason.  This is not one of those good reasons, he says at every stop light.  The mall is three miles away.  It doesn't seem like such a big deal to her.  It never does. 

"Just borrow one of my old shirts, babe."  But she wants a new shirt- one that he won't steal back from her in three weeks and work out in.  She doesn't want sweat and dirt and grime on her art.

He groans as they walk through the food court, tries to lose her in a baseball hat store.  The mall is dead and it's killing him; he thrives on attention, she knows, and if there is no one here that he can ditch her for, well...

They pass Victoria's Secret, which always makes her uncomfortable.  He stares in and she presses on, but he stops and pulls her back to look in.  She imagines how this would look to everyone around them- two teenagers staring into a practically X rated store.  Thank god her mother isn't here. 

"You should get one of those," he says, awed, pointing somewhere towards an albino plastic manaquin.  He considers this art. She doesn't look at it, but at him.

"No, that's really not what the assignment's about-"

"Just think of what the guys would say!  It would be so funny, Pammy!"

She tries to find any one of her art friends laughing when she brings in white panties to tie dye.  For some reason, it doesn't fit.  At all.

"No it wouldn't," she says in a quiet voice.  Disagreeing with him isn't fun, but come on. 

"Yeah it would.  Imagine the look on that guy's face!"

"Mr. Larkin...?"  It's hardly funny.  Imagining her middle aged art teacher looking at such panties would be... mortifyng.  Awkward.  Disgusting.  Why can't he see that?

"Sure," he agrees, still staring into the store.  If they stand there for another minute, it could get ugly.  She makes up her mind before he can drag her in.

Without really caring, she lets go of his hand and continues down the dirty tile floor.  He sputters dumbly, but runs after her in the end, kisses her.  She pretends it makes it okay.

In the end, she buys a baggy shirt.  He steals it three weeks later and gets it sweatysweatygross.