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Brandon's Bad Day

"H?"
"What?"
"Can you do the talking?"
"What happened to 'I'd rather not shoplift even if it's for a good cause'?"
"It's just... I don't know how to flirt."
"I told you, you just need to make conversation with him. Bat your eyes, bite your lip, ask him what he thinks about the mall. He's a security guard, he'll have opinions."
"I don't know."
"Fine, well, whatever. I'll do the talking. But you need to get the stuff we discussed, okay?"
"Yeah. I memorized the list."
The sound of paper changing hands. "Take it just in case." A deep breath. "You ready?"
"Sure."
"Fuck.” Deep breaths. “Okay, let's go."

“– if I ever see Lizard Bitch again, it’ll be too soon.”
“Hush.”
Brandon looked up as a pair of Asian girls approached his counter. It was a balmy Wednesday morning, but since school was in, there weren’t a lot of people in this grimy little suburban mall. It was a dinky little affair, built in the waning years of the twentieth century in a style that was already dated from the day it was completed, but his uncle oversaw the running of the entire complex, and so here he was. “Good morning,” he droned, reciting the script he’d been given from memory. “How can I help you?”
One of the girls leaned over the counter. “Hey,” she purred.
Brandon swallowed and stood up, adjusting his belt. “Hi.” He didn’t like it when attractive girls looked down at him.
“Listen, um…” The girl bit her lip. “My friend, she’s looking for some new clothes. And so am I. Do you, er… this is kind of weird, but do you know which of the stores here sell some actually decent stuff?”
Brandon’s back straightened. He’d worked here ever since he’d flunked out of high school, and he’d seen shops come and go. He knew which of the shops here were decent, and which of the shops here wouldn’t survive the year. “Well,” he began, “there’s a store on the second floor that sells some pretty affordable streetwear. It’s not branded, but –”
“I know, right?” The girl laughed, tilting her head to the side, and Brandon swallowed again, barely noticing as her friend sidled away. “Who cares if it’s branded, right? It’s, like, barely relevant.” She leaned forward, even closer, and lowered her voice. “Hey, I’m not, like, trying to get to know you or anything, but you seem like a nice guy, and I just got this sweater-vest. Do you think it looks good on me?”
Struggling to formulate a coherent answer, Brandon opened his mouth. That was when something punched him in the jaw. He toppled to the side, completely caught off-guard, and was sent sprawling across the floor. He picked himself up in seconds, face crimson, but the girl didn’t seem to be laughing. Her eyes were wide, and she’d covered her mouth with her hands. “Oh my god, are you okay?”
“’m fine,” Brandon grunted. He adjusted his belt. “Um, your nose is bleeding.”
The girl poked at her nose. She didn’t look surprised. “Oh, no.” She started to back away. “Hey, I’ll be right back. Just need to get some tissues…”
This was when the fire alarm went off.

“I can’t believe that worked,” Minnie gasped.
She and Hailey were crowded into an empty toilet cubicle, having just disembarked from a taxi which they’d hailed hastily after emerging from the rapidly-emptying shopping mall. As Hailey riffled through their pickings, Minnie was bent double, adrenalin still coursing through her veins as a pair of backpacks, still in their packaging, lay on the linoleum before her.
“What did I tell you?” Hailey asked, sounding smug. “Boys are stupid. It is known.” Pulling out a pair of sunglasses, she slipped them on and struck a pose. “How do I look?”
“Help me put the stuff in.”
Hailey pouted. “Spoilsport.” As Minnie tore off the packaging, she began to stuff item after item into the two backpacks. In went a hoodie. Pepper spray. A penknife. A few sets of serviceable underwear, pulled off a shelf at random. The aforementioned sunglasses. Lipstick. A bag of potato chips. “Oh, and before I forget…” She pulled a wallet out of her pocket. “From the guard.” Opening it, she pulled out a wad of banknotes and tossed the rest into the cistern.
“Hailey!”
“I’m not picking that back out.” Hailey fiddled with her sweater-vest and glanced at the door. “I’m going into the next cubicle to change out of this outfit. God, I hate that stupid fucking dress code. If I ever see another plaid skirt ever again, it’ll be too soon.”
“Want me to set it on fire?”
Hailey gave it some thought. “Maybe later. If we need to make a scene.”
“I don’t think we have space.”
“Yeah, let’s just dump it somewhere.” Her stomach growled. “Let’s get some food.”
They changed and slipped back out into the restaurant. Like the rest of this town, it wasn’t particularly crowded, but the food looked cheap, and their Korean was serviceable. As Minnie was making conversation with the shrivelled old lady at the counter, Hailey folded her arms and stared at the TV.
“– he is sighted, viewers are advised to contact the authorities at this number immediately and to depart the premises at once.”
Hailey squinted. When Minnie returned to their table, she pointed her at the TV. “Isn’t that Thereabouts?”
“Charlie Bonehill? Yeah.”
“Yeah, well, he’s a dangerous criminal now.”
“Oh, shit.”
The two of them watched in silence as a few other faces flashed across the screen. They’d clearly been airbrushed to make them look older and more threatening, but the gist was the same.
“They must be from the other facilities,” Hailey whispered.
Minnie hushed her, gazing intently at the screen. When the litany came to a halt, she sagged back in her seat. “I thought we’d be among the names.”
“Never say never.” Hailey fiddled with her cutlery. “I guess we shouldn’t go back.”
“Nah. They’ll probably be waiting for us.” Minnie pulled out a map from her backpack and spread it across the table. “We should go in the opposite direction, see?”

Pasted: Mar 18, 2023, 8:56:53 pm
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