They started down. Halfway there, the sounds from below grew louder—car horns, music, and voices of people going to and from the mall. It was a sea of life that was in direct contrast to the silent halls of Spindrift, designed to be conducive to reading, analyzing, and creating. There was an excitement below that each of them admittedly missed.
They broke out at the edge of the rear parking lot and paused. All three looked back up the hill.
“Yes, it’s easier coming down,” Corliss quipped.
“It always is,” Mayfair said. “Especially when you’ve been moved to Mount Olympus.”
“We’re no Greek goddesses,” Donna said. “At least, I don’t feel like one.”
Hovering close to one another, they started around the corner of the mall and then felt like they had exploded in the light and action. Corliss took Mayfair’s hand, and she took Donna’s. They hurried to the main entrance and burst into the mall, laughing, more like three refugees who had finally made it to the free world or something.
Corliss paused at the directory. “I’ve seen this chain,” she said, pointing to a women’s clothing store called Ooh La La.
“I actually wanted to go into it once, but my stepmother wouldn’t lower herself to go there,” Mayfair said. “She said the styles were too offbeat for her taste and no recognizable designers. To me, that’s the stamp of approval. Let’s get to that ATM first.”
They started right. Their strut seemed to come naturally to them now. It was the way the three walked through the halls and rooms of Spindrift whenever they were together. Not only did they have perfect posture, but they also kept their focus on where they were going. They looked unstoppable and moved in a simultaneous rhythm that was both authoritative and sexy. It was truly as if they heard their own music and moved to their own rhythm.
Almost everyone who saw them paused to watch them go by. After Mayfair withdrew a thousand dollars from the ATM, they found Ooh La La, entered, and considered the clothing displayed.
“I like that blouse,” Corliss said immediately.
“That skirt with the frills,” Donna added, and nodded in another direction.
Corliss brightened and moved quickly to the blouse she admired.
“I’ll try on the skirt,” Donna said, excited.
They separated and began sorting through the merchandise, looking like any other group of teenage girls. Every once in a while, each paused to look at the others to see what was attracting them. How simple this was compared to almost everything else they did, this burst of shopping together. No one had to say it, but they all felt . . . human. They giggled at their appearance when they tried things on. They challenged one another to wear something more astonishing. The salespeople were amused by them and were encouraged to suggest other things. These three did behave as if they had just been released from solitary confinement.
Eventually, Corliss settled on a long-sleeved cable-knit white sweater with a crew neck and tunic length. Donna chose a casual knit turtleneck with classic long sleeves. Mayfair chose a semisheer blouse with a notched collar, long sleeves, and flared cuffs. She tried on a color-block cardigan with an open front, long sleeves, and oversize pockets and at once fell in love with the look, along with a very sexy pair of deliberately overdyed super-stretch pants. She stepped out of the dressing room with her new things on.
“You can’t be the same girl who blew away graduate-level exams when you were in seventh grade,” Corliss said.
“Don’t feel like her. Don’t even remember her.”
“What next?” Donna asked after everything was paid for and they stepped out of the store.
“Explore. Remember, this is a social experiment,” Corliss said.
They strutted through the mall, pausing to look in windows and occasionally at other girls their age. A microbrewery restaurant called Olaf’s was at the far end of the mall. They paused to look through the doorway at the crowd of young people drinking, eating at tall tables, and, whether they liked it or not, listening to the loud music.
“Have to be twenty-one,” Corliss said.
“Only to sit at the bar or order something alcoholic,” Mayfair said. “Let’s get a cup of coffee or a soft drink and observe the natives.”
“How late are we staying?” Donna asked.
“About a half hour more,” Corliss suggested. Fortunately for them, there were no room checks at Spindrift. Privacy was highly prized. After all, you could interrupt some genius on the verge of discovering the cure for cancer or something.
They entered Olaf’s and found a tall table with three chairs. A waitress in a short black skirt and a white top came over immediately.
“Coffee,” Mayfair said. “Please.”
“Do you have lemonade?” Donna asked.
“We do,” the waitress said. “Homemade, too.”
“Make it two,” Corliss said. “Please.”