Week 7

Tee hee hee. I listen to them giggle. It gets on my nerves after a few minutes. Your fricken twelve. Or I assume your twelve, by the way your acting. Why are you wearing coochy shorts and low cut shirts? Black bra, with a white tank top? Hello! You don’t even have any boobs. Have some respect for yourselves.

I cringe as I think of my daughter in middle school. If she acts like these girls, she’ll be grounded for life. I’ll tie her up in the cellar. Not really, but it’s a good thought. Maybe she will skip that stage….

I watch as one of the three girls struts past a teenage boy, her back arched and her hips swaying. He just glances at her and turns to his girlfriend, who is shopping for a new wardrobe. The girls are huddled as if they were on a football team. Whispering loudly. Kind of hiding behind a sale rack of skinny jeans. Probably their size, because I have a hard time believing anyone that has gone through puberty can fit in to a size zero.

They giggled and laughed again and went after their next victims. These two men, (I assume they are men because they have a full set of facial hair and an un-godly amount of cologne on) seem to have the same strut the girls were just practicing, minus the hip sway. Their muscles bulge out of their too small Old Navy tee’s. I am pretty sure I saw one of these guys here earlier with a pack of kids and a woman that I assumed was his wife.

The men notice the girls. “You girls wanna go have a good time?”

“Sure!” they giggle immaturely.

One of the girls seem stand-offish. She is smiling, probably to keep the other’s happy. Her facial expressions and the way she is clutching on to her purse, makes me think she is super, nervous. She doesn’t say much.
After they decide they are leaving she doesn’t budge.

“I’m not going. I gotta get home.”

She whispered into her friends ear. All she got back, was a death stare, and rolling of the eyes. The other’s try and coax her to come, with some peer pressure, but she doesn’t buy in to it. She is left standing in J.C Penney, alone. One of the men winks at her as he exits with the others. She looks like a deer in headlights. She begins to well up. As I walk over, I am glad to see her parents have taught her some type of morals. She didn’t give in, and didn’t go off with her friends with total strangers. They could be child molesters for Christ sakes.

As I walked towards her, she started walking to the nearest exit. She pulled out her cell phone and called someone. Most likely her mother, because after the story was told, she yelled that she was not going to call her friends parents. I left it at that.