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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1255107-Twisted-Fashion
Rated: ASR · Short Story · Satire · #1255107
A teen vies to get his neighbours attention, but what lenghts will he go to?
Amy had always been into fashion. Ever since she was little, she had always aspired to be a famous model that everyone would adore, worship and envy. Amy always wore the most expensive clothes and the trendiest accessories. She was so caught up in her own little world of fashion and looking good, she didn’t even know the meaning of the word ignorant.

Bill was a neighbour of Amy’s. They were close to being exactly the same age, and had been in the same classes at school as each other throughout their lives. Amy did not know Bill’s surname. They ran with different crowds, and rarely even talked. The social chemistry was just not there.  This really pissed Bill off, because he loved Amy.

Bill was an easygoing person, seemingly quiet and withdrawn. He had several friends, although most of these were screen-names that Bill would never meet or get to known properly. Being quite shy of nature, he never quite knew how to handle himself in the real world, and imagined more than experienced life. Except when it came to fashion.

Bill liked to design and make clothes. It was a secret passion of his.

Of course, no-one knew this, but Bill was determined to make something of himself one day. His secrecy about being a fashion designer stemmed from the assumption that him pursuing a career in this line of work would make others see him as effeminate.

“Did you see the price tag sticking out of her skirt? What a loser, I mean, it’s one thing that she has no taste whatsoever in clothes, but when she can’t even wear them right, alarm bells really start ringing!”

Amy rarely had anything to say outside of fashion and clothes, except when it came to gossip, of course. Her equal-minded cohorts rarely did either.

“I am so not ready for this Spring Fling, I mean, it’s in five weeks and I’ve only bought three trial outfits, all of which I’m thoroughly sick of by now anyway. And I need a pair of sexy brown boots, ASAP! Brown is the colour of the season, girls!”.

Bill was in the school corridor when he overheard Amy say this, and began to formulate a plan that would really grab her attention. He would get to her heart through her feet. Not the most direct route, admittedly, but it was a start.

Two weeks later, a parcel for Amy was found on the front step. Puzzled, but unperturbed by the free gift, Amy was astonished to find the most exquisitely designed pair of boots she had ever seen. Tanned leather delicately embroidered with elegant stitching; undoubtedly made by someone who knew what they were doing.

They were perfect for the Spring Fling!

She relished at the thought of being the envy of every other girl there, and the object of lust of every boy there - as usual.

With the boots was a note.

Amy, I hope you like these. I made them myself, especially for you. If you want to keep these, you have to take me to the Spring Fling. If you don’t, your dog might not come home, understand?

Regards,
Bill Morris

Amy was torn. The boots were gorgeous. Such fine stitching and attention to detail. The maker had put a lot of hard work into making these, that much was evident even from a first glance. Such a decision was hard to make at the time - even for Amy - because her facial mud-mask resticted her from furrowing her brow in concentration.

But her dog!

She had absolutely no intension of going to the dance with that freak; no boots were worth the years of popularity she had wallowed in. If she went with him, she would be stripped of her high-class reputation, a reputation she had spent years developing and maintaining.

Well, Puggles were going out of fashion anyway. Who needs an accessory that you have to feed?

She made her decision.

Screw that psycho nerd and his wet dreaming, she was keeping these. This was just too good a pair of boots. Her birthday was coming up soon anyway, she could always get a new dog.

Bill had anticipated her decision, and was unhurt. He had known her for far too long to expect otherwise. He would have the last laugh. At least she liked the job he did on them. That much was evident from the amount of times Amy had worn them Those boots were special all right, such fine leather, a real pleasure to work with...

Boy, did that dog squeal!


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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1255107-Twisted-Fashion