Prompt: The defect. Write a narrative based on this word.
“Hey Rob, you even listening to me?” My best friend Harris’ voice rings in my ear, and I realize I have been walking blindly throughout the mall the whole afternoon. I feel a heavy weight on my arms and look down to see my hands are laden with bags filled with contents that I don’t remember buying at stores I don’t remember going to.
“Yeah man, I’m just really tired today, rough day on the football field.” My excuse is lame and pathetic, but Harris isn’t the observant type. Actually, football practice was easy and slow today, the thing that has got my heart pounding is my date with totally gorgeous, out-of-my-league Casey tonight. Not that I’d ever admit it. Harris keeps talking about some video game he bought, but my mind is elsewhere.
What am I going to wear tonight? What am I going to say? What is she going to think of me? I step onto the escalator and nod my head to whatever Harris was saying, it sounded like a question. I then catch a gleam in the corner of my eye and turn to my left. There on a shiny new rack the object that gleamed was the most boss hoodie I have ever seen.
I know I sound like a girl raving over clothes, but this was just what I need to impress Casey. I step off the escalator, ignoring Harris’ questions and march to the rack. I pull off the sweatshirt and head into the dressing room. I don’t usually like the cramped, cologne smelling, cheery music playing rooms, but today it is like they are just confirming I have made a good choice. It fits perfectly, of course because it is fate, so I go out to get Harris’ opinion to make sure I don’t look like an idiot. I find him leaning against the wall, his brown hair flopped in his face and his blue eyes peering at me curiously. “You look hot man, and I mean that in a totally friend way – don’t get the wrong idea.” He said with a crooked smile.
I turn this was and that, trying to look at myself in all directions in the three paneled mirror. The only flaw is the large grey security strip they stamp into clothes so no thief can take it. It’s virtually impossible to take off without the special machine cashiers have. I raced back to get changed, and we headed down to the main level to check out. The sales woman was cheery and pretty (Harris was heavily flirting) but all I could think of was my amazing date with Casey tonight and how good it is going to go. I always dread going through the 2 metal plates through the door even though I know I didn’t take anything without paying, the red lights always look like eyes watching me and the beep to confirm I wasn’t a thief sounds creepy. In my high spirits, I practically skipped through them and into the car.
When I got home, I was doing my hair when an uncomfortable poke hit my side, I tugged at my hoodie-of-awesomeness and it happened again. I pull it over my head and could almost feel steam blowing out of my ears. In her air-headedness, the cashier had forgotten to take off the one flaw, the defect to my perfect jacket. The security strip. I collapse onto my bed, my happiness gone. No hoodie means no good date; no good date means no Casey; no Casey means no joy in High School. My life is over.