My Secret Life
By
Rebecca Anna Coleman
Sequel To
Magnolia Blooms & Sakura Petals

Prologue

Once more I found myself wandering aimlessly around “The Greenville Bazaar”. I was thirty two hours into my summer vacation. And the whole world seemed to my oyster. The current balance on my personal checking was around twelve hundred dollars and the balance in my high yield checking account was around five hundred dollars. Mom had been more than pleased with my results of my final exams. I'd finished most of my classes with an “A” average. The only truly bright spot had been P.E because the coach hated me, and the final grade in that class had been a “D”. Which was strange because I'd dressed out each day and tried my best to complete each task I was given.

Anyway mom had overlooked the “D” grade and had rewarded each “A” with a cash bounty of twenty five dollars. Every penny of that money had been funneled into my high yield saving account. Anyway, once again I found myself browsing the racks of clothing. I had a mental shopping list. Summer was upon me, and summer meant light, cotton skirts, sundresses, blouses and of course bathing suits. And I would need at least one modest one piece for swimming at the public pool and a cute bikini if I decided to venture into the local water park. The bathing suit was on the top of my list.

Because I knew that in about a fortnight's time mom would take a week and a half worth of her collective PTO ( Paid Time Off) and fill the family's SUV up with gasoline and before the break of day we would all depart from Greenville and start the five hundred or mile trip to Orange Beach. My older sister had been saving all of her PTO time for the trip as well. And I, myself, was looking forward to it. There was nothing more “Shojo Beat” than writing about a family beach trip. I mean every anime I've seen and every manga I've read to have at least one episode that centered on the beach.

And to take full advantage of the trip I knew I would need a few things, a few good sundresses, some underwear, I might as well go full hog and bite the bullet. If I was really going to be “Heather” I would need some panties and a bra. And that would mean getting fitted for a bra. And the only place to get fitted for a bra, well the only one I knew of because I'd heard my older sister and my mother talk about such things was “Victorian Secret's”. A high-end, very fashionable lingerie shop.

And there was only one “Victorian Secret's” in Greenville, and that was located in the Greenville Mall. So it seemed I would need to visit the mall sooner or later. Anyway, bra and panties aside, I knew I would need some decent shoes, some shorts, a tank-top and a bathing suit and maybe a bikini. Or maybe I could buy a bathing suit or bikini at the beach. And of course I would need some cute sleeping clothes.

So I took my time and carefully browsed the selection of clothing until out of the corner of my eyes I noticed something that I knew I just had to buy. Laying in a cardboard bin that had a large sign that read “Priced to Move” was a tank-top that featured all five of the Sailor Scouts from super popular anime “Sailor Moon” and the matching pull string bottom featured all the transformation wands.

Blushing, I reached down and picked it up. It was perfect. I could just picture myself sitting cross legged on the floor of my living room or the early morning coolness of the condo. Holding a plate of perfectly skillet fried smoke sausage, scrambled eggs, and maybe some home-made cinnamon toast. Sipping a big, chilled glass of Bright an' Early, that cheap, orange flavored drink that has graced the breakfast table of Southern households for generations.

I mean that was the perfect way to spend your free Saturday morning, sitting down with a classic breakfast platter, and a classic orange flavored beverage, while on the glowing television screen classic Saturday morning anime plays?

Anyway into the little hand basket the PJ set went. It was a major steal at only thirteen dollars. A few seconds later a pink, short sleeved nightgown went into the basket. Followed by a midnight black mini skirt that looked like it had just come from the rack of Hot Topic. I added that by a cute matching black, lacy top. All in all I felt like I was putting that reward money to good use.

“I still need a bathing suit.” I said, feeling my cheeks starting to turn pink. And by chance I found one, another cardboard bin, laying on top of a mountain of clothes was a navy blue one piece. I picked it up, the price tag read seven dollars. I shrugged and tossed it into the hand basket.

My selected items in hand I started toward the checkout stand. I figured the same old man from before would manning the cash register. Instead there was a young woman, she had honey colored hair and pale blue eyes and wore a form fitting blouse. She looked annoyed and her eyes were glued to her phone. In fact she only looked up from her phone when I placed my basket down.

A moment of silence followed.

“What?” She said, taking a deep breath.

“I would like to check out?” I said smiling.

“Oh? You would? I'll be happy to do that for you. If you move your basket a little closer. I'm not going to reach out and take out your things for you. I'm a volunteer, not a slave.” She said, rolling her eyes. Now my basket was right beside her, all she had to do was reach over and pick the items out.

I blinked.

“Oh..” The woman leered at me and then a smirk curled up on her lips. “Okay, here is what we are going to do, since you're too dumb to understand what I'm trying to tell you. You are going to move your basket a little closer to me, and then you're going to pick them up and hand them to me. I'm going to scan them, and then hand them back to you. You can bag them yourself.” She said, still smirking.

I blinked. And the woman still leering at me reached down and pulled out a pair of plastic gloves. She pulled on the pair of gloves and then looked me right in the eyes.

“Your mother must have dropped you when you were little.”

“What with the gloves?” I asked.

“Oh sweetie.” The woman said with fake sweetness. “I'm putting on these plastic gloves because I don't want to handle these dirty things. You know people put on gloves when they handle something that is dirty or trashy.”

I blinked.

“I mean I understand, you live in a trailer house. And Judging by your looks, you live in Glen Allen. And I'm sure coming to big, Greenville must be totally new to you. But trust me, I'm not risking a skin infection handling these things. Or worse yet flees! Or Lice! Or whatever kind of bugs live on second hand clothing!” she said as she scanned each item. After each item was scanned she handed them back to me. She then gave the total and I counted out the correct change. She took the change like with the same face somebody would make if they had to pick up a rotten cabbage leaf.

“...” She made a terrible face. “I guess you're too poor to have a bank account or something. I mean Glen Allen does have a Post Office.. I guess you could drop your pocket change into a Postal Saving account.” She said, taking a deep breath. “Anyway I need to wash my hands. I feel unclean touching paper money.”

“...” I blinked and blinked again.

“Pardon me?” I said, taking a deep breath as I collected my things. “But I believe you don't know who I am?” I said my temper was rising a little. Now in the south it was considered rude to throw around your last name. We firmly believed a good last name was worthless unless it was supported by becoming a character. While many in the Yazoo Delta did indeed first judge a book by its cover we in Greenville at least took the time to read the back before we passed judgment.

“No,” She said, taking a deep breath. “I don't care to know either. Some trailer park princess from Glen Allen is none of my concern.” She said waving me off.

And before I could respond she walked off. Leaving me holding a bundle of clothes in my hand and my face redder than a Hot-House tomato. I think I just learned another lesson about being “Heather” no matter if I was a boy or a girl somebody was going to judge me. And most of those who judged me would be kissing the ground I walked on if they knew my last name. So maybe it was best if I did not causally toss around my last name. After all a proper Southern Belle did not need to causally toss around last name. Now she allowed her actions to speak for her.

And the best thing I could do now was to bag my stuff and walk out of that shop like I owned it. Which I did. I carefully packaged my newly brought items in a plastic bag, smiled, and in the sweetest tone of voice I could muster I said.

“Have a good day!” With that I turned around, tossed my hair back, stuck my nose straight into the air and walked out of that shop the air of a teenager who owned the world.

End Prologue.