You'd think I came to the grocery store to rob it.

People I passed gave me weird looks and held their bags closer to their chests to keep the grubby looking frizzy-haired gremlin from snatching their stuff. I dashed through the front sliding doors, keeping my chin planted on my chest. In my brain, if I didn't spot Parker on the way into the store and just happened to run into her while checking out, that looked way cooler.

Yeah, cause everything about this SCREAMED cool.

I decided that "something" meant Flaming Hot Cheetos and a random can of spaghetti off the shelf. I debated grabbing more, but that made me wonder how much visiting Parker at work would cost me on my allowance of twenty dollars a week that was really just supposed to be for gas money. I didn't realize being crazy was so expensive.

"Lizzie? What are you doing here?"

I jumped, fumbling with my stuff. My can of spaghetti slipped from my hands and smacked the tile floor. Parker stood right next to me. I blinked, almost not recognizing her at all, as if I needed to wait for my eyes to adjust in a dark light. It was definitely Parker with her freckles, her copper hair piled into a messy bun, and with every single one of her nails painted a different color, but she wore plain black pants, black ruddy shoes, and a belt. She even wore a navy blue polo that was tucked in, underneath a typical winter coat with a furry collar.

"Uniforms don't suit you," I blurted before I could stop myself.

Parker snorted. "Right?" She raised her arms to show the true horror of the outfit. "I'm dressed like my father and that sucks. Can you believe they wouldn't even let me put pins on the apron?"

"There's an apron added to this mess?"

"It can always get worse." She chuckled and picked my can up for me. She rubbed her finger over the dent and replaced it with a nicer one. I smiled, feeling a bit shy all of a sudden. My cheeks warmed as I accepted the new can. Parker asked again, "So, what's up? Why are you here?"

The truth would sound something like:

"I was worried about you."

"You seemed upset earlier and I wanted to make sure you were alright."

"I've come to offer you snacks in exchange for a smile."

Instead, I told Parker, "Camille demanded chips. I didn't even know you worked here. Are you on break?" I remarked on the bag hanging off her shoulder.

Parker nodded. "Nah, I don't clock in for like an hour, so I'm just loitering. Do you wanna hang out? We could go check out the decorations downtown."

My heart thrilled like a hand raking across the full length of the piano keys. I loved downtown. This whole place was just another nightmare inside suburbia, but the Historic Downtown area let me pretend to be from a place bigger than me, a special place.

To avoid something I didn't mean again, I bit my lips together and nodded. We walked by the Friendly Finds Deli and grabbed some stuff from the cooler before heading to my car. Parker asked if I wanted to grab some hot chocolate and that was always a big yes for me. She had me drive to our downtown area, about ten minutes away and instead of pulling up to the coffee shop that houses the best iced coffee in the entire world, we walked to a homemade stand.

"Awesome," Parker greeted two bundled up little kids at the table. They were wrapped in more layers than I had layers of deep-rooted anxiety. They had big brown eyes peeking through their hair and their scarves and little button noses. Parker said, "I thought you guys would be closed by now. Lizzie, this is Crissy and Mitchell."

These kids sat in front of a plastic table, covered in a Halloween tablecloth with a sign taped to it: Hot Cocoa and Bad Advice.

"We're always here," Mitchell stated as fact, without an ounce of sarcasm. He came across as a spiritual deity that was merely borrowing this child's body. If I wronged him, I imagined him transforming into a dragon made of light and karma or something.

"So..." I said. "Do we pay for the advice and the hot chocolate separately?"

"The advice comes with the hot chocolate," Crissy explained.

"Two cups, please," Parker requested, handing them a five-dollar bill.

I could only see her eyes, but I could tell Crissy grimaced. She said, "We don't have change."

"Put it on my tab," Parker suggested. The twins looked at each other and through telepathy seemed to come to an agreement that this would be acceptable. Mitchell jotted something down as his sister poured the cocoa into Dixie Cups and dribbled little marshmallows inside.

Mitchell picked his head up and told Parker, "We think you should start screaming at the top of your lungs before every conversation, so you have complete attention."

"Don't encourage her," I begged and accepted my cup of cocoa. Parker just smiled, bumping me with her hip.

Crissy cocked her head, giving me a second glance over. She said with all the confidence in the world. "You should shave your head, paint it blue-"

"And cover it in glitter," Mitchell added. "Freshen up your look."

"Well, that is advice." I nodded, feeling conscious of my free-flowing hair. The exact moment my hands were free, I was braiding it all.

"I like your hair," Parker said inside her cup of cocoa. "It's really pretty down."

A fire burned in my belly and the way Parker looked at me caused a log to shift and a dozen embers flew through my body. My fire reflected off Parker's eyes and if we didn't stop staring at each other, I'd be reduced to ash.

Self-consciously, I touched my hair and mumbled, "Thanks. I'm uh, thinking about cutting it." To avoid giving these kids a show, I started walking again.

"Do it!" Parker said with her damn sparkly eyes. "It's hair! It'll grow back."

We crossed the street, side by side. Our reflections from the shop windows kept an even pace. One week ago, if you told me where I'd be, with who I'm with and we weren't fighting, I might've passed out the way Victorian women loved to nosedive for lounge chairs.

"My mom would never take me to a salon," I insisted and finally took a drink. The hot chocolate soothed my shivering bones. The chocolate was savory while the marshmallows were light and sweet. Those kids were magical, I knew it.

"I'll cut your hair," Parker suggested, and I sputtered into a belly laugh.

"Oh, yeah! Sure!" I gasped. I couldn't even breathe I was laughing so hard. My face hurt. "Parker, like I'd let you anywhere near my head with a sharp object!"

"Hey! I'm handy with a pair of scissors!" Parker insisted.

"The day I let you cut my hair is the day I've totally lost it. You might be talented cutting fabric but that's not the same as cutting hair."

Parker blinked before her face twisted into something wicked and hungry. She nudged me, leaning in closer as she begged, "Tell me how talented I am, Lizzie. Go on."

"Sure, you're really good at being an ass." I smiled, properly snuffing out her fire.

"Walked into that one," she admitted, but her frown didn't last long.

Looking down the street, something caught her eye. "Lizzie, come here, I wanna show you something." She tugged at my jacket and I mirrored her smile. Her excitement infected me and made my heart thrum. She jogged down the sidewalk and I fast walked, just to keep up with her. I wanted to laugh and tell her it would still be there, but she was so cute, I didn't want to spoil the moment. Maybe it was a good idea to come. Her spirits seemed higher than earlier.

I did wonder what happened.

"This is Miss Patty's Salon," Parker said and waved her arm, showing it off. I peered through the window at the handful of mannequins, lounging on a velvet sofa and mismatching armchairs. If we turned away, I'm sure they'd go back to gossiping and chattering about the people walking by them. Parker gaped. "It changed again...." She cupped her hands over her eyes and she spied through the glass. It was impossible to see anything on the shelves. She started muttering about how she missed the owner again.

I walked to the door and went for the handle, but it resisted. Cocking my head, I tried to find a sign for the store hours but came out a loser. "When does it open?" I asked.

Parker slumped, resting her head on the window. "Never. Probably the moment before I die just so I can choke on the regret."

"Okay." I rolled my eyes. "Dramatic." Like an idiot, I tried the handle again. I peered inside, struggling to find shapes inside the shadows. There was an appeal to the mystery that there could be anything lurking just beyond my eyesight. "Why do you want to go inside?"

"There's a tiara. It'd be perfect for the show and I honestly can't get it out of my mind."

I looked over at Parker, at the determination in her eyes and the weight of the entire show hanging from her brow. She didn't just like making costumes. She loved it. A strange tight feeling coiled around my heart like a rattlesnake and I let out a shaky breath. I had the feeling this trial was going to swallow me up.

"How often does the window change?" I asked.

"Every week."

"What day?"

Parker didn't lift her forehead from the glass when she turned to look at me. "I don't know." She blinked as if the thought never crossed her mind before.

"You mean you've never checked back. We could do that, come back and wait to see which day the décor changes. Then, we could stake it out and wait for Miss Patty to show up."

"Ooo," Parker cooed as her grin grew fiendish. "Nobody's ever asked me out on a stake-out before."

"And I've never asked, consider us both special."

Parker finally lifted herself off the glass. She put her arm around mine, still grinning and glittering. This ignited the life back into Parker's step as she went through her illustrious history with Miss Patty's Salon. I could've listened to Parker talk all night, but we made our way back to her work and I parked in front of the doors, letting Parker off.

"Thanks," Parker said, unbuckling her seatbelt. The car engine hummed lightly, underneath the sound of the radio and the hiss of my struggling heater. I didn't care about putting on a playlist, not when I just wanted to talk. Not when we were about to separate.

"Um," I said as Parker opened her door. She turned back around and I needed to suck in a breath, filling my chest to maximum capacity. If I didn't say something, I knew I was going to go home with the Flaming Hot Cheetos and regret. Times like this, I was usually worried about speaking my mind, about being honest with my feelings... but Parker didn't make it so scary. She had already seen all the ugly sides of me and still wanted to talk to me.

"Parker, it's okay if you want to talk about anything, you can talk to me. I noticed you were upset earlier and I... We can really talk about anything."

Parker nodded. She smiled a little and said, "Okay."

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah," she shrugged, "it wasn't that big of a deal-"

"No, it matters if it mattered to you," I insisted, speaking from experience. I felt sick just thinking of all the times people have told me to just get over it or that I'm making something small into a bigger deal. I never wanted anyone to feel that way, not even Parker. "And I'm the expert on being emotional, so you have to listen to me."

That made Parker chuckle like a slam dunk and I had points on the board (that analogy was brought to you courtesy of my brother, Danny). "Yeah, I kind of had a shitty day, but you already made me feel better, Lizzie. So, thanks."

"You're welcome and..." I gripped the steering wheel, "you really can come to me."

"I will," Parker told me like a promise and it'd be one I intended her to keep. She hesitated in her seat with her hand still on the door. She didn't move. She only studied my face. Her eyes flickered from my eyes to my mouth. Shyly, I sucked in my lips, almost retreating. Parker smiled. She said, "I'll see you tomorrow."

"See ya," I said, my voice shakier than I intended.

She hopped out of the car and I watched her walk back into work, stuck inside a daze until a car behind me honked their horn. "Oh!" I jumped and put the car in drive. I waved my hand and said, even though they wouldn't hear me. "Sorry! Sorry, I'm going!"

I drove the long way back to my house as my mind wandered and my thoughts traveled anywhere and everywhere. I put on one of my favorite playlists:

1. Sign of the times by Harry Styles

2. Drive Slowly by ADDIE

3. Tired by beabadoobee

4. Answer Me from The Band's Visit Original Broadway Cast

5. Etc.

My car somehow ended up back at my house. I went to my room to find Camille cuddled up to my old teddy bear as she read one of her mystery novels. She perked up, half dazed and with one foot inside her book world.

She turned her head, looking at my alarm clock. "That took a while for just grabbing some chips."

"Yeah, I ran into Parker," I said and started shedding my fall layers.

"Hmm..." Camille hummed. "That's nice."

"Yeah, turned out she was on break and-" My phone buzzed and interrupted me. It was a text from Parker, telling me goodnight and I grinned and sent her a text back. I told Camille, absentmindedly, "Uh, we went downtown, and I met the kids with the bad advice booth-"

"It's a hot cocoa booth, the bad advice is a bonus."

"Oh? Yeah, well then she showed me Miss Patty's."

"Really?" Camille sat up in bed. "She let you see that much crazy?"

"I don't think she's crazy." I looked up, a feeling of protectiveness flaring up inside of me. "She's just excited. I mean, she has a vision for what she wants the costumes to be and she needs that tiara."

"I didn't mean anything bad. I just..." Her eyes lowered to the phone in my hand, in the middle of texting Parker back. "...you guys are getting along and that just feels weird to me. You guys are actually acting like..."

"Isn't that what you wanted?"

"I said I didn't mean anything bad about it," Camille snapped, her voice lower than usual and we both froze. I could feel the tension rising. If we continued, this was going to end in a fight and I knew how to fight Parker. I knew how to fight my siblings. But I wouldn't know what to do if Camille was ever mad at me.

"Well, anyways," I quickly jumped topics, "what do you think about me with short hair?"

Camille laughed and the tension eased in the air, even if the anxiety tumbled around my chest like a dryer that desperately needed a new vent for a little while longer. It was an itchy hot feeling that I wish I could change like my clothes. Camille and I debated how bad the punishment my mother would be versus how cute a bob haircut could look on me.

Camille posed a good question, "But do you want to change your hair because you want short hair or is it because you just want to change."

"I want short hair," I said, but after I said it, I got the feeling it was really the other way around. I didn't admit that to Camille. Instead, we watched a dozen videos of girls cutting their hair at home and watched enough fails to make me second guess this plan. Still, I sent one video to Parker and she sent back:

PARKER:

I sent her:

LIZZIE:

In the corner of my eye, I caught Camille looking at me. "What?" I asked, realizing I was grinning my face off.

"Nothing," Camille mumbled and looked back at the video.

#

Whoop! Whoop! It's been a while since we just had a single POV chapter, but it really was Lizzie's time to shine! I hope you enjoyed the update. Don't forget to leave a comment telling me what you think!

How do you think the relationship between the girls is progressing? What do you think the girls were about to do in the car? How do you think the trial is going so far? Why do you think Camille was acting weird? What do you think she was worried about?