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[24] The Lizzie Hall Movie

Grace rifled through a dense rack of cocktail dresses, tutting at every single one that passed through her dexterous hands.

"Just choose one," I sighed in exasperation as I balanced several of her previous choices in one hand, a shopping bag with my own Homecoming apparel clutched in the other.

She frowned. "They all suck. Old Navy had much better options. Remember that checkered yellow skirt with pockets? I wish that one was a dress."

I tapped my foot against the tiled floor while the stuffy shopping mall air was slowly earning me a headache. We had already spent about two hours at this place, flying from one shop to another like busy bumblebees on a mission. I had found my winner about fifteen minutes into our errand, a beautiful strapless bubble dress in the lapis blue, an absolute knockout next to its gray and red sisters. Meanwhile, Grace found a fatal flaw in every single outfit I fell in love with – the skirt was too ruffled, the breast area was too tight, the collar itched or seemed ridiculous.

"Do you want us to go back there?" I generously offered, already wishing for a drink for my parched throat.

To my disappointment, Grace vigorously shook her head. "No. Let's just keep looking."

She moved on to the next rack and started stroking the material, almost kneading it between her fingers. The shop attendant sitting behind the cashier desk glared at her in distaste. Grace never noticed. Like a true drama queen with a kickass eyeliner to go with her theatrics, my friend scoffed, took the dress off the hanger, and threw it over my loaded arm.

"Just feel this material. Like sandpaper," she spat out. "I've used toilet rolls that were softer."

"Grace," I hissed, shifting my weight so that my shoulder would stop hurting. "Are you going to try them out or not?"

Her head snapped toward the clothes I was carrying, a precarious snow heap threatening to turn into an avalanche. She checked her phone, and her eyes visibly widened.

"What is it?"

Her lips pressed in determination as she put it back in her pocket.

"You know what? I changed my mind. Let's put them back."

I blinked twice, fast. "You're kidding."

"Why?"

I pushed everything except my own bag into her hands and swiftly walked away, annoyed beyond my usual Saturday afternoon limits.

"Liz, no! Wait!" I heard her call out, but I just rolled my eyes and strode on.

Grace fumbled with putting the dresses back where she had found them in the first place – the shuffling sounds of swooshing fabric and wood scraping against metal clued me in on that. I had already glided past the anti-theft sensors when she grabbed my wrist from behind, her breathing ragged from running after me.

"Could you please slow down a bit?" she asked after she inhaled deeply, clutching her breasts. "I hate running with these. Hurts like hell."

"I just need a break," I said, raising my hands to rub my aching temples. "We've been at it for hours. What are you even searching for?"

Grace shrugged, glancing at her phone again. "I'm not sure. I want something that's long, but also short. I want it to have pockets, but I don't want people to be able to see them. And I don't want the color to wash me out. And it should definitely be on the cheaper side, but good quality. Like satin, or silk."

I stopped dead in my tracks. "Gracey, hate to break it to you, but you're searching for a Holy Grail. Maybe we should just call it a day."

"I don't think so," she thwarted my beautiful, introvert-indulging plans. "There are still a few stores we haven't been to yet."

My shoulders slumped in defeat as we reached the escalator. "Can we at least sit down for a minute? I want to buy something to drink."

Her index finger popped up in the air like an exclamation point, a clear order for me to wait while she reached into her oversized handbag. As she felt around its insides, the tip of her tongue peeked from the corner of her lips in concentration.

"Here," she offered me an unopened bottle of water that she had just pulled out of her magic tote. "Drink this."

I accepted the small bottle with a shrug and drank half of it in one go, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand when I was done. I didn't even question why she was so prepared, although in retrospect I probably should have.

"Oh, wow! Fancy running into you two here!" Grace suddenly beamed, and my head snapped toward the source of her elation. Amber and Troy approached us with big ice cream cones in their hands, Troy's almost half-melted and a homogenous blend at this point, Amber's still holding up in a high, chocolate-vanilla swirl.

"We were just thinking of you, Liz," Troy told me after gobbling the rest of his dessert in one rapid move. "There's this ad for a hat shop where the monkey is wearing a fedora. We all know how much you love those little bastards."

"Real funny," I tried to stare him down, but he just grinned.

"Hey, you went dress shopping! Did you find something nice?" Amber inquired, probably to steer the subject away from ferocious primates. I rustled my bag to draw attention to its contents and separated the handles, eliciting a gasp. "Beautiful. You'll definitely make an entrance."

"Yeah. Especially when I walk through the front door alone."

All three of them exchanged commiserating glances. I couldn't blame them, really – I had already indulged in self-piteous sighs when I was watching a famous teen movie from the nineties, fantasizing about Heath Ledger singing's voice while also wondering why Aiden hadn't asked me out yet. The girlfriend part I could understand. After all, I should have just brought up the subject myself, but seeing that I had already kissed him first, I wanted him to have the honor of doing the hard work. I had expected him to do it at some point after that drive-in theater date anyway, but it had already been three days, and the only messages we had exchanged were in the form of cheesy movie gifs.

Whatever. The ball was in his court now.

"So," I cleared my throat. "You came here for ice cream?"

Amber stretched her fingers into a gentle curve. "Not exactly. Troy was just done with his shift at the bowling alley, and since I was already there kicking everyone's asses, we decided to make it an impromptu date."

Before she even finished her sentence, he kissed her on the forehead. "I've gotta tell you something, babe. I let you win."

"Don't flatter yourself, babe. You're just jealous because your boss wanted to hire me on the spot."

She teasingly nudged him, but I was no longer listening, my attention now locked elsewhere. "Is that Julia over there?"

A tall blonde window-shopped a few feet away, disturbingly interested in the displayed selection of gourmet cheeses. Every time she saw a sort that she particularly liked, she took out her phone, typed something in, and then put it back into the front pocket. Before I could properly squint out her features, she made up her mind and marched into the store with a purpose.

I turned to Grace in confusion. "Isn't Julia dairy-intolerant?"

"No!" Grace blurted out, then pinched her lips together. "I mean, maybe. Perhaps not on Saturdays."

"You don't know if your girlfriend can eat cheese?" I furrowed my brows at the weird exchange.

It wasn't like Grace to get flustered, but I could now clearly see her cheeks turning bright red, flaming like two red dwarf stars. She opened her mouth, then closed it again, as if she couldn't decide what to say. Julia's lookalike walked out of the cheese shop, merely half a minute after entering, sparing her the effort.

"Yo! Julia!" Troy suddenly yelled, and the tall girl's head snapped toward the source, confirming our suspicions.

Like a deer in the headlights, Julia froze for a second, but then shook the confusion off and leisurely headed toward us, her striped white sneakers squeaking against the recently polished floor.

"Hi," she gave us a small wave, nearly none of her facial muscles moving at all. "Did you know that mice don't really like cheese?"

"What?"

She pointed at the store that she had just left. "It says so on their pamphlets."

My jaw slackened as Julia checked her phone again, and after some furious typing, Grace's own device pinged in her handbag.

"Did you just send her a message? While she's standing right here?"

"Yes." She didn't elaborate.

Something really fishy was going on, and I wasn't sure I was on board with it.

"Grace and Liz went dress-shopping, Jules," Amber informed her, poking Troy in the ribs as if she was trying to tell him something.

"Long live today's beauty standards," Julia deadpanned without so much as a glimpse upward.

Grace glared at her girlfriend as if she wanted to both kiss her and strangle her at the same time.

"You're so lucky you already have yours," she sighed at her, and while she thought I wasn't paying attention, she gave her two thumb-ups. "I couldn't find anything the entire day."

"What does it look like?" Amber perked up, and Grace immediately showed her a picture of a long, yellow dress, two seconds too fast for a natural conversation.

"Lucky! I bet you'll look hot in it." Amber pointed her index fingers at Julia and winked.

"Sure. More like a tall cob of corn."

"Jules," Grace gritted her teeth, causing her to flinch.

"Right." Her voice suddenly went a pitch up. "Oh, it's so nice to see you guys. What a coincidence to run into you here."

"What are you doing here, Julia?"

"The egotistical artwork of Jeffrey was a huge hit. I got about five million orders in my Etsy shop. In fact, my t-shirts are in print as we speak."

"Stop. Right now." Everyone froze at the sound of my voice. "If you don't tell me what's going on, I'm leaving this instant."

Amber's eyes widened. "You can't do that."

I raised my eyebrow and challenged her, "Watch me."

None of them hurried to speak, so I spun on my heel with a huff, determined to leave the mall for the second time that afternoon. I only managed to make a few steps before Grace intercepted me and piped up.

"Liz, wait."

"No! Why should I wait? You guys are obviously making a joke of me today, and I really don't have the energy—"

"It's not you. It's me," she sobbed, her eyes jittery. "They're having an intervention."

I crossed my arms and scoffed. "Really."

"Really. They found out about my secret drawer."

Despite my annoyance, a tiny seed of curiosity sprouted inside me, and I closed my eyes for a second to calm myself down. "Let me guess. The one you don't let anyone peek in?"

"Yes. Exactly."

Walk away, Liz. It's a trap.

But of course I had to indulge her. "What does your drawer have to do with anything?"

"It's full of mismatched socks," Grace wiped off an invisible tear. "I have failed Marie Kondo. Whenever I get stressed, I take them, start pairing them up, then separate them again. It's like yoga, but better."

"You're pulling my leg."

"I swear to all the deities known to man," she said as she raised her left hand up, the palm facing me, then scrolled through her phone gallery to pull up a photo. "See. This is what it looks like."

I glanced at the colorful mess, my patience already running thin.

"I am deeply sorry about your... disorder, Grace. Can you let go of my elbow now, please?"

"No. Swear you'll stay first."

I rolled my eyes, completely dejected at this point. "Fine. But can you guys at least—"

"Hullo, mate!" Mel's disembodied voice spoke behind my back, and I screamed in pure terror, clutching my chest to stop my heart from giving out. "Ahh! Sorry for scaring you!"

"It's okay," my voice trembled as my heartbeat attempted to normalize. "I just didn't expect you."

I turned around to find my friends almost rolling on the floor from laughter.

"You just sounded like Jules when she saw a spider in my bedroom. I had to take a video of myself taking it out to convince her the danger was gone." Grace giggled, interlocking her fingers with Julia's to show her she was only teasing her.

"Wait, you two are together?" Mel gasped before she started bouncing and clapping, like a true fan who had just found out her ship had sailed.

"No way," Julia scoffed and leaned her elbow on Grace's head. "We're just gal pals."

Grace snorted, grasped her wrist, and pulled her in for a sweet, long kiss, making Julia appear completely dazed once she moved away.

"PDA," Amber coughed, copying Julia's retort from Monday.

"Huh," Troy muttered as he took a sip of his beer. "None of my friends kiss me like that."

"They'd better not," Amber told him as she hugged his neck from behind. Troy instantly grinned and grabbed her thighs to give her a piggyback, and Amber squealed as she suddenly found herself up in the air. "Hey! Put me down!"

"Nope. I'm taking you away from these heathens." Then he started stammering, his eyes darting with panic between Grace and Julia. "Not because you're both girls. Because—"

"We get it, Troy," Grace stuck out her tongue at him, and Amber squeezed his ribs with her knees.

"No, wait! Hey, there's a penny on the ground!"

"I'm shocked," Julia said, staring at them with a quirked eyebrow.

"Because they're so cute?"

"No. Because Troy knew the word 'heathen'."

As Amber and Troy returned victorious with a coin held up high, Grace's phone sounded, a silly ringtone echoing in the spacious hallway. Everyone exchanged conspiratorial glances.

"It's time," Grace nodded, and Julia gently snatched the shopping bag out of my hands while Amber fished out my phone out of my back pocket.

"What are you—"

"We'll take care of it. Here you go," Amber said after she loaded a website and handed me my phone back, together with a sleek pair of black earphones. "Watch the first one. We'll wait for you at Taco Bell when you're ready."

"When I'm ready to—hey!" I yelled after my friends' receding backs, but not a single one of them turned around, scurrying toward the fast-food joint as if their lives depended on it.

At least I was finally going to find out what this whole mess was all about.

Dejected, I pressed play, only to see Aiden's face slowly filling out the screen. I immediately recognized the background as his bedroom, and a big, snoring dog napping on his bed, sprawled all over his blue comforter.

"Hi, Liz. I want to play a game," the video version of Aiden smirked at me, his attractive features morphing into a frown a mere second later. "But not the Jigsaw kind, obviously. I'm not a psycho. Anyway, let's test your movie knowledge, shall we?" He cleared his throat and shuffled some papers on his desk like a news reporter, evidently not reading from them at all. "When Amanda Bynes tried to teach Channing Tatum how to flirt, which dairy product did she say was her favorite? Go to the cheese shop, find the answer, and peek under its price tag. Good luck!"

I laughed out loud, not a single part of me caring about the weird looks from random passers-by. My friends' kooky behavior made sense at last, and a spark of gratitude exploded into fireworks when I realized they must have helped him with this treasure hunt. Shaking my head, I made a beeline for the cheese shop with a new spring in my step. Dozens of different wheels and truckles decorated the wooden shelves, but I knew which one I was looking for.

I picked up the price tag in front of the Gouda row and sure enough, what appeared to be a password was written under it: OldNavy. I instantly typed it into my phone to unlock the second video.

"How cheesy of me, right? As you might remember, we got kicked out of Old Navy back when we first met." We both smiled at the memory. "Go there. Find the famous outfit that Cher wore in Clueless; Grace said you'll know what it means. Let me know what the message says!"

My mouth gaped as I remembered the skirt that Grace had pointed out to me today, several times even for good measure. I rushed through the hallways, making sharp turns both left and right, keeping up the swift pace until I found the familiar sign. Luckily, the skirt was right in the changing cabin where she left it an hour ago, safely hidden between a pair of black pants and a striped navy shirt. I felt around its tiny side pocket and took out another piece of paper: WaffleHouse.

"No, the next password isn't ZoyoFroyo," Aiden joked as soon as I pressed play. "And wow, you're already halfway there! Maybe I should have made this harder," he rubbed his chin with his thumb. "Oh, well, let's continue. Have you ever seen Just My Luck? Lindsay Lohan had to find a menial job after getting fired. Go there, ask for your shoe size, and click next."

I chuckled as I headed for the bowling alley, my feet picking up speed as I ran, dozens of stores fading into a colorful blur around me. I remembered the first day we met, the way we steered each other in different directions on a wild kid hunt. It was like we had driven the DeLorean two years into the future. Aiden was still here with me, guiding me from my pocket, hopefully waiting at the finish line.

"Excuse me," I exhaled heavily as I finally reached my destination. The desk clerk lazily glanced at me up from his tablet, scratching his mustache. "Can I get women's size eight?"

"You Liz Hall?" he asked, and I quickly nodded. "It's all been paid for already. Here ya go."

I grabbed the shoes as soon as he placed them on the counter and stuck my hands in both of them as if they were gloves, earning myself an astonished look. I pulled out the paper with a triumphant expression and cheered.

"Wait," the guy yelled after me when I started to leave. "Aren't you going to play?"

"Nope!" I waved at him and ran out.

Once I was alone again and leaning against the pet shop window, a curious hamster reaching for my legs behind the thick glass, I unfolded the paper and frowned.

"Okay, I lied. It was totally ZoyoFroyo. But I didn't want you to guess it without even trying," Aiden laughed as he accidentally dropped the papers. "But the next one is much harder, I promise. Now, you know that I'm the quarterback," he wiggled his eyebrows, "and I like to be in the center of attention. So be there, or be square. I hope this message wasn't too watered down. If you need a hint, remember that shopping scene from Mean Girls. See you soon, Lizzie."

I bit my lower lip in focus, mulling over his stressed words. Center and square were obvious – he wanted me to go to one of the mall crossroads. But what did water and quarters have to do with anything?

A light bulb went on above my head, exploding in glimmering confetti. I had noticed a fountain near the Old Navy, the type where patrons liked to throw in spare coins for good luck, and I prayed it was the only one in the area. I started running again, not even sure why – Aiden's messages weren't timed as far as I knew. Still, I liked the thrill of it, the feeling of exhilarating anticipation and warm blood rushing through my veins, flowing, pumping, making me feel alive. There was only one remaining video at this point, and I knew I was so, so close.

When I reached the fountain, my eyes immediately zeroed in on the clue. A paperback copy of Scarlet Letter lay on the faux-marble edges, far enough from the water not to get drenched. When I picked up the book and opened it on a random page, a folded piece of paper fluttered down to the ground, like a dry, browned leaf in autumn. This time it contained only a single word, every letter capitalized and underlined: TURN.

I entered the word into the empty box, anxiously waiting for Aiden to reappear on the screen.

But he didn't. The only thing I saw was one word in black, bold letters, eerily reminiscent of the final password: AROUND.

It took me a second to get it, but then I spun on my heels faster than the speed of light, scanning the crowd for familiar brown curls. But there was no sign of him – only patrons and stores and escalators and the information counter and a big, flashy advertising display with my face plastered all over it.

I froze.

My eyes glued to the ad that silently rolled, and the music suddenly started coming from my earphones. There I was, laughing. Hiding behind a textbook to deter the cameraman from his shooting attempts. Posing with Mel on the day of the protest. Joking around with my friends. Tucking a piece of my hair behind my ear. The blush-inducing 'Smile for the camera, Liz' moment when I thought he wasn't actually filming. My heart clenched at the montage, my brain marveled at how professional the editing looked for a high school student's work. The slow background music gradually transformed into a quicker melody, and I recognized one of the last sentences from The Perks of Being a Wallflower.

"This is happening. I am here and I am looking at her and she is so beautiful."

I covered my mouth with my hand, unable to stop watching, too powerless to move an inch. The montage of my face and its various expressions slowly faded away until an empty pasture appeared. Nothing happened for a second – but then a familiar cow hoofed it over to the middle of the screen, a loud bell jingling around her neck. Baby stopped, mooed, and posed like a true Cow Beauty Pageant winner. A banner was wrapped around her head, and the letters spelled out a simple word: "HOMECOMING?"

The screen turned black.

And Aiden gently tapped me on my shoulder, flashing his gorgeous smile when I turned around.

"So. Cow about that?" he promptly flinched in horror. "I mean, how. How about that. Oh my God, did I just ruin the whole thing?"

"No," I laughed, wrapping my arms around him and burying my face in his shoulder to stop myself from tearing up. "You didn't."

"Phew," he said. His hand gently rubbed my back in soothing patterns. "I thought I overdid the cheesiness today."

"Don't get me started on that Gouda," I chuckled, pulling away a bit to properly look at him. "How did you manage to secure the display screen?"

He shrugged. "Amber's cousin works here."

My chest heaved in laughter, and a lock of my hair fell across my eye, quickly removed by Aiden's gentle fingers. My heart hiccupped as our eyes met, sparkling and warm and full of emotion.

"Why is Amber's cousin always the most convenient answer to everything?"

"She's your friend, Liz," he smirked, kissing the top of my nose. "But I guess she's mine now too, by association."

"By association?"

"All of my girlfriend's friends are my friends."

I had no idea how my knees still hadn't buckled.

"No wonder you make friends so quickly," I sniffed to conceal my weakness as he leaned in closer.

"Stop distracting me," he teasingly ordered, his mouth lingering on my cheek. "You didn't answer my question."

I let out a laugh. "Yes. I'll go to Homecoming with you."

"And you'll watch the game?" he raised an eyebrow, his teeth once again on full display.

"Yes. And I'll hate every single minute of it."

"Wouldn't have it any other way."

And with that, he pressed his lips against mine, tenderly like a butterfly landing, enchanting like some ancient, powerful magic.

The scene faded out. The credits rolled.

Yet the movie had only just begun.

THE END



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