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Getting settled in meant I needed new clothes.

I couldn't go walkin' around in the suit Mama gave me no more. It was hideous and too yellow; I looked like one o' them bright highlighters. But I had as much money as I had sense, and that weren't too much if you'd asked somebody. Rivka was kind enough to lend her clothes and money to buy some of my own, which lead me to walk around the thrift shop and general store for something I could wear.

Rivka's clothes were nice, I'd admit, but they surely didn't fit me none. I had to haul them back up with every few steps, the belt she'd given me bein' of no use whatsoever. I could feel the stares and disapproving whispers long before I actually saw 'em, or the people behind them. They'd turn their noses up and walk off like hens strutting about for a rooster.

I shoulda known it was a bad idea to go out on a Sunday. Everyone was in their best clothes, big hats and heels that they wobbled in. It was flock of 'em, just going to congregate at the great big church. It was the biggest building in town, all white and pristine. I wondered if the sweat they were breaking out into was from all the walking or from the excitement.

Reverend Marsellas was on every woman's tongue, old or young. I saw girls my age dolled up to the max, eyes batting like they were tryna swat away flies. It was comical, with their red lips and dark lashes. One of them looked over at me, gave me a once over. A smirk settled over her glossed lips as she shook her hips harder with each step.

My only response was a snort, and turning in the direction of the store. Some people had already gone to the early service, and they usually ran the stores to deal with the customers that had no need for church. I guess they reserved special glares and watchful stares just for them, 'cause that's what I got the minute I stepped into that store.

The fluorescent light up above flickered and the place reeked of cleaning solution. Not the kind that was scented with something like pine or cherry or Hawaiian Tango; it was that thick chemical scent that was so strong you could taste it. I sniffed as I approached the clothing section, trying to ignore the looks from the man at the register.

Finding clothes in my size was a challenge, considering I hardly knew what my size was. Most of clothes had been handmade or hand-me-downs. Measuring had been thorough for the custom made ones, but I never once saw the numbers. So the guessin' game began as I held clothes up against my frame and tried to guess how loose it would be.

To the best of my ability, I tried mimicking Rivka's style. I weren't gonna lie; she looked nice in all them dark clothes. They were loose, but tight enough to be inviting. And when she wore colors, it was like the rainbow had invited her out for tea. I 'spected the prints on some of her clothes would damn near come to life if she really wanted them to. I wanted to be that mystical, I suppose. So my fingers reached for everything dark and everything bright and everything in between. If it fit, it was slung over my arm with the rest of the collection.

Shoes were a different story. I'd never been real fond of picking them out, mostly because Mama would always have something to say about what I chose. She'd say one thing didn't match another, and have me thinkin' I musta been blind. They were an enemy I'd face another day. My shoes were fine as they were, and I'd just come back with Rivka or Xerxes to get their opinions.

I had a bundle of clothes in my arms in no time, and I struggled with it to get to the counter. I could hardly see around them, but I had a feeling much less would be in my arms by the time I was through at the register. Shopping was not my forte, and if I did this every time, I'd be broke in no time flat. Sighing, I dropped my load on the counter and offered some form o' a smile at the man behind it. He didn't give me the same.

"You know," he started as he rang up my clothes, "You should head on out to church with everyone else."

"Oh, naw, I'm good," I responded, shruggin', "Too much to do today."

"It's the Lord's day; you gotta go in," he persisted.

The hairs under his nose twitched with his words, like they were dancin' along to some kind of tune. I tried not to laugh at it. He shook his head when I offered no other opposition, because how could I? I ain't have nothin' against the church, but I didn't feel the need to walk in just yet. Plus, with the way people were lookin' at me, I thought I might burn up if I took so much as a step inside.

They would only see that I was livin' with a woman they deemed a witch—and rightly so. Rivka was far past whatever it was they thought of her. But she weren't no emissary of the devil; that much I was sure of. Xerxes, as her familiar, though—I wasn't so sure of. Maybe he just needed to warm up to me.

"You really should go, li'l girl," someone behind me suggested.

When I turned around to see who, it was a little old lady with a nice smile. Her gray hair was curled all nice under her wide brimmed hat, a fat pink bow sitting atop it. The lace veil that dropped off it slight didn't do much to hide her face, but I doubted that was the point. Her hands were gloved with matching silk gloves, her suit pressed and neat. She was sure ready to go to church.

"You should go," she repeated, slightly more enthusiastic this time.

"I really can't, ma'am; I gotta get home," I stated, my smile apologetic.

"Oh, you won't even notice the time," she continued, "I'm sure your momma won't mind. You could come as my guest."

"That's nice and all, but I can't."

"Won't you do me this favor, dear?"

Now how was I 'posed to say no to that? Ain't nobody ever rejected a nice old lady like this one before. Defeated, I nodded and she clapped her hands together like it was some great thing. Then she twirled on over to her other lady friends just outside the door. They musta been watchin' me, or the man behind the counter had called 'em over with some kind of signal I hadn't seen. It was lookin' like I would be regrettin' this decision in no time.

"I'll have your clothes here when mass is over," the man said, shooing me off.

This weren't lookin' too good.

The old women huddled around me for bit before—lickity split—we were off. They prattled away in a way only old Southern women could, talkin' 'bout this heifer and that heifer, until we got down to the church. Then they turned the conversation on to me as they neared the big green doors.

"Y'know, it ain't safe for you in that house," one said.

"That mean ol' witch might skin y' in your sleep," another stated.

"Right, right! You need to be cleansed," another bellowed, a reverence to her voice that I weren't too sure about. Maybe she wasn't right in the head.

But it didn't look like none of them were, because another piped up, "You should stay with the Reverend; he'll get you clean as a newborn babe of all that sin you been dwellin' in."

I wasn't 'bout to protest against no old lady, but the ones surrounding me were getting' me close to it. They were like lesser version of Mama, only with religion on their minds. They said I was filthy for bein' with someone they declared an evil witch. The same folk that would tell her to respect her elders. If only they knew who they ought to be respectin'.

The church itself looked like some grand ol' building. There were spires and spikes and all sorts of fancy decorations that went with a church. It might have been more like one of those cathedral things with how decked out it was. I thought it might have swallowed me up with how big it was, loomin' over me. If I'd been any sort of spiritual before, I might have signed a cross before enterin' because something just didn't sit right with me when I looked up at it.

The stain glass glared down on me—look at how fine I am, they seemed to say, look at the level of holiness you ain't ever gonna be—and I swallowed too hard. But I didn't have time to be worryin'. The old women clustered there damn near threw me into the church. And I was immediately bathed in the watchful gazes of every person in the room.

That included the girl that had looked back at me earlier, another smug grin on her face. I wanted to know why, but I didn't ask. It wasn't like I really cared. The doors behind me closed, and I knew I was trapped.

// old ladies have some serious persuasion, y'all. telling them no feels like a sin. i swear. anywho, i apologize for the short chapter. the next one will be much longer and well worth the week's wait! cheers, rem.

QUESTION TIME: Has anyone ever asked you for something that you didn't want to do, but it was someone you absolutely couldn't refuse? ( minus your parents, of course! ) What do you think your personal style is? Got any favorite colors to wear? I'm usually in blues and black because that's where it's at.