Micah drove Courtney home, the trip passing in silence mixed with 7 Ships playing. Both comforting but in opposite ways: one new and one old.

When they arrived at Courtney's house, Micah gathered up the fabric while Courtney managed to hold the bag of shirts and maneuver at the same time. It wasn't graceful but it meant one less trip to the car which was the peak goal of anyone who has ever shopped.

The doors to her parents' office lay open and she spotted them consulting five wall screens, all displaying something different. Courtney secretly felt like they looked like Iron Man in his workshop, only less become-a-superhero and more remake-a-company's-image type thing.

Micah let out a whistle as they entered Courtney's sewing room.

"This is nice," he said.

"It used to be a collected workspace for my sister, brother, and me. But they eventually moved their work into their rooms and so I took over. Set the fabric on that table."

Courtney set the shopping bag on her worktable and sank into her chair. Micah wandered around the room, inspecting everything. When he came to the two mannequins with the beginning of dresses, he looked at Courtney.

"Homecoming dresses," she said. "One for Lynn and one for me."

"You're seriously making your own dresses."

She shrugged. "Why not?"

He smiled and made another lap of the room. Not sure what a second round will reveal what the first didn't but hey, this is the most anyone's paid attention to her room in a while.

"Can I ask you something?" Micah said.

"Sure."

"Where did your love of clothes come from?"

"What, you mean you don't believe it came attached to me when I was born blonde and blue-eyed?"

"No."

Funny, that's what Max would think, along with others.

"Do you want the long story or an abbreviated story that doesn't make sense?"

In answer, Micah found one of the rolling stools and sat down. Only once he did, he swiveled back and forth, then in a quick circle then pushed off, sending himself across the room. At the opposite end, he turned and pushed again. He hit one of the mannequins and they both crashed to the floor. Smooth.

"Sorry," Micah said, righting the mannequin and settling on the stool again. His hair stuck out more and his cheeks burned.

"Why does every guy who sits on a stool do that?"

Micah shrugged. "So...you were going to tell me that story?"

Courtney took out one of the shirts from the bag, grabbed her seam ripper, and leaned back in her chair. Might as well work while talking.

"I met Lynn in a summer camp before freshman year," she started, swiftly detaching one sleeve of the shirt from the base. "We became friends. I was awkward at fourteen, I could dance but I still didn't feel graceful.

"Then I was best friends with Lynn going into freshman year. You've seen her, she's gorgeous. I'm still not convinced she isn't some Hawaiian Princess. Next to her and her poise and cool confidence...I felt like an ugly duckling. She stood out and I..."

"But you're pretty," Micah blurted out.

"Yeah, but we live in Southern California. You throw a rock out any window and you'd hit fifty pretty blonde girls. I'm basic. Lynn is striking."

Courtney moved on to the next shirt, leaving the previous stripes in a pile.

"But a few months into freshman year I found this butter yellow sundress. It fit me perfectly like nothing had before. And...it made me feel beautiful, confident. It made me feel comfortable in my own skin. Before then I'd never realized clothes could do that."

Yeah, that sounds bonkers.

But Micah wasn't laughing or even looked amused. He stared at her intently. Not sure what to make of his gaze, Courtney continued working.

"From there I tried to find the dress in more colors so I could wear it more often but I couldn't find it in any store or online. My mom said to recreate it then. I didn't know how to sew but that's not something that stops my family. If you don't know how to do something, learn to.

"It took me over a year to get up to the skill where I could recreate the dress and by that time I'd grown out of it. But by then I learned to love creating my own clothes. I stopped following trends because sometimes things didn't look good on me or I didn't like the look of it. I found my own style."

Courtney felt her lips spread into a wide grin that she couldn't help.

"I researched old styles from way back in 1900. I would take some of those looks and modernize them. I watched old movies and stole ideas from those. Some of my favorite outfits are based on Audrey Hepburn's style which is technically Hubert de Givenchy's style because he designed it all."

She stopped. Oh jeez, way to ramble, Cory.

"So yeah, that's the story. Me discovering clothes have the power to empower."

"Is that why you're helping me?"

"I'm helping you because I owed you for helping me when I needed it. It was a plus that I got to take over your wardrobe. Do you feel like it's helped?"

After a second's thought, Micah nodded. "Yeah...you're right, I'm still me but a me that feels...confident."

"See. Clothes can make a difference."

"Do you make all your clothes?"

"Oh goodness no. I do about 45%. I'm good at dresses, skirts and some types of shirts."

Micah pointed to the pile of shirt straps that had accumulated on her desk. "Are these all for an outfit project?"

"No. I will turn these into a fall leaf frame that covers the doorway into Homecoming. The high-quality material will make it more pleasing while I can use the cheap fabric for overhead."

"Can I help?"

"You want to seam rip?"

"If that's what you're doing, yeah. Looks fun getting to take apart something."

Very much what a guy would think.

"Okay."

Heart stop squealing. He's only helping, not proposing marriage, you idiot organ. Calm down.

Micah rolled himself closer and Courtney handed him a seam ripper and explained what to do. He worked slowly, carefully. Shirt by shirt, they dismantled them. As they were working on the last two, her father rushed into the room.

"Sunshine," he said, holding up two tablets with three different colors shown on each. "Which color scheme makes you feel you can trust the brand?"

Courtney eyed the tablets then pointed to the one with the warmer tones.

"That one."

"Great." He turned to Micah. "Boy-that-better-only-be-a-friend-to-my-daughter-and-not-dating-her what do you think?"

Subtle, dad, real subtle. No worries there, he likes someone else. A someone else I'm trying to help him get with.

"Uh...the same as Courtney picked," Micah said.

"And he is only a friend," Courtney asked.

"Great, you get a name then. What's your name?"

"Micah."

"Good name. Okay, what about this for a tagline: a memory you can hold."

"Photography company?" Courtney asked.

"Wedding photography to be exact."

"What about a memory worth a thousand words?"

"Oh, that is good! Lauren!" He walked to the door but paused. "Micah don't date my daughter or you will lose your name privileges. It was nice to meet you. Lauren, I got a new tagline!"

Micah stared at the doorway then looked to Courtney. Yeah, he's wacky as a wombat but brilliant.

"I like your dad," he said. "Is he usually like that to all the guys you date?"

"Only been one guy. I think because Heather, my older sister, didn't date in high school and I only started at the end of junior year that he was hoping I'd never date like she did. Aiden is still That Boy to him. Though now I think it's That Boy I Might Kill For Breaking My Daughter's Heart."

"My dad is the same way with Felicity and Destiny."

"Maybe it's a father thing then."

Courtney set down her shirt she'd taken apart and Micah added his on top.

"I should head home," he said.

As he rose, Courtney gathered her crutches and followed him to the front door.

"Thank you for playing chauffeur for me today," she said as he opened the door. "And letting me use your muscles."

"Working limbs to be exact. This means you owe me a favor. I believe you mentioned something about rearranging my shirts."

Courtney gasped and placed a hand over her heart.

"Micah, are you asking me on a closet color coordination date?"

"Umm...yes?"

Courtney laughed at his bafflement. "Then I accept. How about tomorrow after school?"

"Sounds good." He headed out but at the top stair, he turned back and hesitated. Courtney waited. "In the car...when we were talking about being the odd man out...you said...well you said you were only a cheerleader." He pulled at his curls. "But from what I've seen you're a lot more than that, Courtney."

He hurriedly descended the stairs and hopped into his Jeep. As he drove away, Courtney stood there watching him, holding onto his words.

**********************************************************************

Juggling jelly beans!

(Who knew jelly beans could juggle, not me!)

*Bangs a spoon against a pot* Okay let's see what thoughts are cooking in that head of yours. If none... well that is a pity for you. 🗯💭💬

I'm curious, do you have a item of clothing that makes you feel different, confident?

*pulls out lute case, hears the groans and grins* Just kidding.

*Pulls out a podium and taps mic*

Thank you everyone for coming to my Ted talk.

AthiraT asked me how I avoid cliches in my books.

The answer is twofold. *clicks slide because obviously it's a Ted talk so there has to be a slide though I don't know what's on the slide*

First fold... Not sure if that's right but anyways. Knowing the clichés means I have a road map of what to avoid. It's that simple.

Second fold is more complex. There are two ways to write a story: plot drive (where the plot is the most important thing) and character driven (where the character is the most important part)

All clichés are plot driven stories. The nerd has to end up with the bad boy, doesn't matter who they are. If those are their roles that is what will happen.

But I write character driven, which instantly means that clichés, even if I might start off with one, will never end up as one. My focus isn't on a nerd and a bad boy, it's on complex girl character (who could be a nerd in some sense) who has to discover something about herself throughout the story.

Once I focus on character and not some cliché plot the whole thing changes. People are complex characters, not clichés.

That's how I do it. *bows* Thank you once again for listening to be blabber.

رای! یادداشت کردن! دنبال کردن!
(Persian)