I woke up and prepared myself a bounty of fresh coffee and store bought mini blueberry muffins.  I wanted to believe my morning good mood was a direct result of my culinary acquisitions, but they were only a small part.  I was a sixteen year old again inside, but not the one I had once been, the one whose memories I recoiled from.  No, this was a child from a world that I was not familiar with, one who bounced home after school and mooned about, thinking of the dreamy boy she crushed hard over.  The girl who was in a position to have the crushing boy return the desire, even in the slightest degree.  The girl who giggles, and blushes, and swoons.  The girl I have always loathed with jealousy, the girl who I mocked and glared at, hating never having a chance to be a part of that sort of world.

            Yet, as I picked at my muffins, I consciously fought a tiny smile, the words "Would you like to go on a date with me?" echoing in my brain, spoken with the velvet articulation that Ben possessed.  The sentence would have been surreal even as a figment of my imagination, it was unfathomable as a moment of reality.  My return to Biddleton had in no way lived up to the horrific expectations I had been panicking over, and the heavy cloud of stress was beginning to lift.  Several encounters with blasts from the past, and I had walked away not only unscathed, but somehow involved in a world I would never have imagined.  One where Michelle Lancaster is struggling in life, and speaks with friendly words, and where Benjamin Stevens asks for my company.  Yes.  Surreal.

            I was pleased to be in the house by myself so that no one would be able to see the goofy grin I was unable to force off my face, although I did get a chuckle out of the thought that Grams was keeping a close eye on me as I went through my morning.  She would have gotten a big kick out of the thought of something from Biddleton making me smile.  This was something I was having a particularly difficult time processing; that I was back in this horrible place, but having what could be construed as a good time.  An oxymoron if I have ever heard one.  Fun in Biddleton is comparable to a jumbo shrimp?

            My enthusiasm gave me a nice boost of energy that equated into a productive morning.  First and most importantly, I set up an appointment to have internet turned on.  Even in the midst of my sabbatical, I still needed to keep in contact with work, and email being the most efficient of communicative options.  Beyond that, I erupted into a cleaning frenzy, tackling much needed looming chores such as a rapidly growing laundry pile, and cleaning the now surely toxic leftover wake food from the refrigerator.  As I shoved the unidentifiable globs down the garbage disposal with a wooden spoon, I wondered if I had possibly concocted penicillin's newer, fancier cousin in the confines of those baking  dishes, and was denying the planet a cure for cancer or something.  The more likely reality was that I had created the virus from Resident Evil, so down the drain it went. 

            With my laptop set up blaring music to guide me as I cleaned, I was transferring a load to the dryer, dancing, and singing painfully off key to "Dancing Queen" when my cell phone rang.  I bounced to it, and was equally shocked and not at all surprised to see that it was Callie calling.  The new spirit of this town not sucking out my very soul made her name popping up on the caller ID seem about right, but it was still a bizarre feeling that she would call me.

            "Heeeeeeeeeeeeeey!" she trilled into the phone, "What are you doing?"

            "Not much," I answered.  I could hear the sounds of the road in the background and knew she was driving, "How are you?"

            "I wanted to see if you wanted to go shopping with me this afternoon?"  My heart fluttered a bit at the invitation, "I don't have to work until six, and have a real need to buy stuff.  You wanna come?"

            I wanted to squeal "Heck yeah!" into the phone, but settled for, "Sure, that sounds fun."

            That was the extent of the call, save for her informing me that she would be by to pick me up in a grand total of five minutes.  After hanging up, I stood there for a second, debating possible courses of action, as in, would it be more helpful to tidy up the house, or spruce up myself? 

            Within seconds I was in my purple room, flinging clothes around, although anything would have been a step up from my jammies, that I hadn't had any reason to change out of before that moment.  Since my arrival, when choosing articles of clothing to wear, I had gone with what would be the most inconspicuous, all the while allowing me to look as presentable as possible.  Whatever I could throw on that would make me as small a target as possible.  What I had been doing was ignoring the person that I was before my arrival, not dressing like myself.  Not so much that I was pretending to be a different person, but a very muted version of me. 

            Realizing how silly it had all been, and how if there was anyone I could be myself in front of, it would most likely be Callie, I happily yanked my favorite vintage T-shirt out of one of the boxes, threw it on over a comfy pair of jeans, and a pair of orange Chuck Taylors that had seen their fair share of use.  Off to the bathroom next to try and make some sense out of my hair in the one point three minutes until she arrived.

            Right on time, just as I was giving up on my hair and pulling it back into a ponytail to at the very least keep it out of my face, I heard the crunch of gravel in the driveway as her car pulled in.  An image flashed through my brain as I headed to the door, one of a younger me, clad in similar garb, prancing outside to spend an afternoon mall crawling and hanging with girlfriends.  This is of course something that I had never done within the confines of my adolescence, but there I ran, as I were an old hand at the activity.

            I grabbed my coat off the rack and raced out the door, slowing down on the front porch and reminding myself that a gal closing in on thirty probably shouldn't flounce in such a manner.  Outside sat Callie in a little blue Jeep, the vehicle perfectly suiting her; small, and incredibly spunky looking.  Warmer than the day before, but still chilly enough to give me a nice hustle to the car, I smiled as I walked by the front and over to the passenger side.

            "How are ya girly?" she smiled as I hopped into my seat, "Thanks for coming with me.  I have been looking for a new shopping buddy," she laughed.

            She was adorable, head to toe.  Always a firecracker in high school, she carried it with her into adulthood, seemingly with ease.  She appears to have been the odd person who knew who they were from birth, no soul searching, no searching to figure out where they belonged.  That innate confidence was the most attractive aspect of her, which speaks highly of the quality as she was almost unfairly good looking.  Her blond hair was pulled into messy spikes, her eyes once again lined with kohl.  She wore a fitted black leather jacket over a vibrantly pink T-shirt with an artsy drawing on it that I couldn't make out.  Black skinny jeans and a pair of black boots rounded out the look, and she wore it well.  There was a fast paced song playing when I entered the car, but as soon as I sat she had turned it all the way down.  The gesture did not go unnoticed and it gave me the impression that she was offering her undivided attention.

            An instant after I had strapped myself in, we were moving, and she was off talking a mile a minute.  She informed me that we were going to brave the mall in St. Charles for the afternoon, she needed to get some clothes, new sheets, and other little things.  It was hard to keep up with her rapid fire approach to speaking, but it was amusing to try.  More on my mind was the fact that she drove like she spoke.  We zoomed down the roads, her stop sign visits more of a pause than a stop.  I found myself bracing in the seat, but discovered that while she was speedy, she didn't appear to be reckless.  It was an odd combination, but fitting.

            I didn't say a lot on the half hour drive, but I didn't mind at all.  I listened to her give the rundown of the class that she had taken that morning, her apartment in which the hot water had gone out the night before, and the shift of work that evening that would pretty much consist of eight hours of her and Martha.  When we pulled into the parking lot, I wasn't even sure the half hour ride had even happened, but I felt like I had learned hour’s worth of information.  My very own Callie cram session.

            "Sooooooo..." she purred as we walked across the parking lot towards the giant mall, "How did things go with Ben last night?"

            "Yeah, thanks again for that at dinner last night," I scowled, but couldn't help smiling.

            "Anytime!" she giggled, "So, what happened?"

            "Well," I started, "He asked me out and I started yelling at him.  Then I started crying.  Then I fell down, and he asked me out again."

            She stared at me, squinting into my nonsensical explanation. 

            "We are supposed to have dinner tomorrow night."

            She squealed loudly and grabbed my wrist with both hands as she jumped beside me.  I swear, she was more excited about the date that I was humanly capable of being, and I was pretty damn excited.  "That is so great!  He likes you a lot, I can tell!"

            "I don't know about that," I blushed, "But I am looking forward to it."

            "Oh, whatever Max," she rolled her eyes laughing, "He may not have known, but I sure remember how much you lusted after him in school."

            "Excuse me, I did not lust." I protested.

            Another eye roll, "Sure."   Perking up again, "Ooh!  What are you going to wear?"

            I thought about it briefly, and concluded that I hadn't the foggiest idea.  Sensing my confusion, she smirked, "Well, I guess we will be doing some serious shopping for you too!"

            Grabbing me by the hand, she practically danced in through the mall archway, and we were surrounded by re-circulated air, and the smell of greasy food.  A satisfying smell, for certain.

            It felt wonderful as we shopped, very comfortable.  As if we were best friends reconnected and enjoying a day out.  There were no pretenses, no awkwardness.  It was exactly what I needed and I was very grateful to her for asking me to tag along. 

            Her new mission to find me something fantastic to wear on my date with Ben took us into a clothing store, with her shunning the sales people, and instead playing the role of my personal shopper.  She moved with so much enthusiasm it was easy to allow myself to become her personal Barbie Doll.  I was unsure of exactly what the date would entail, providing a challenge as to what proper attire might be, and she took the endeavor on happily.  Running up to me, holding various shirts and dresses up to me, oohing over the feel of a fabric, or scrunching up her nose at an unflattering color before darting back to the racks and returning with more possibilities.

            She was thorough, and time was passing quickly, even though I hadn't yet so much as tried a single thread on, and we chatted and giggled our way through one store and onto another.

            As we debated the merit of dresses over pants, a group of women walked into the boutique we were perusing caught my eye.  I recognized them right away, my Biddleton High detection unit on high alert even in my relaxed state, although had I not known her, Allison Rogers still would have managed to catch my eye.  Impossibly tall and thin, she had the body of a super model, although not the face.  She was still quite attractive, but it was well documented that the only thing she ever had going for her was that body.  Her personality was bland, she wasn't one to have thought provoking insights, and while she wasn't the sharpest mind, she wasn't an idiot either.  Perfectly average described ever single aspect of Allison in every regard, except for her impeccable physique, and while she thought very highly of her mental attributes and "beauty", even she knew deep down that below the neck was the extent of her appeal to most.  It made her very insecure, which explained her company.

            Sandy Meeker was one of the plainest people to have graced the town of Biddleton.  She was tall, not as tall as Allison who hovered around five ten, and very stockily built.  Her face was round, and even at the age of twenty-eight, still plagued by thick acne.  Her ashy blond hair always appeared to be slightly greasy, her clothes never flattering.  She had been following Allison around since the second grade, latching onto the popular girl, and being pleased to have been allowed into the circle.  It always made me ache to think of her, for I knew, much as everyone else could see, that Allison kept Sandy around for the simple purpose of making herself feel better.  Their insecurities matched well, and they both used each other in that way, but Sandy had such a kind heart, and you could see visible pain in her eyes at all times.

            Beside them was Mary Evans, a jock in school, who played ferociously on the girl’s softball team, and certainly looked the part.  Never a speck of makeup, baggy T-shirts and track pants, even now.  She was feisty, and almost the body guard of the group, no one would ever cross Mary, not that she had ever been in a battle of any kind, but you got the sense that if you took her on, you would not come out in one piece. 

            I remembered them all as perfectly nice, although Allison came equipped with cutting remarks from time to time, she knew how to work the bitchy high school act as much as the next girl.  She judged a females worth in the amount of male attention they could attract, and with a physique such as hers, she found herself to be quite valuable.  Always trying to push her friends into situations, or guys that they weren't interested in because it made herself feel less guilty about what, or should I say who, she was doing. 

            "Oh, jeez," Callie muttered under her breath, and I saw her deliberately turn and duck her head as if she were trying to avoid being seen.  I stupidly kept staring at the women who were now walking our way.

            "Callie, hey!" Allison called, her entourage close behind her.  "Finding anything good?"

            "Nope, just looking," Callie responded, her usual pep dialed down.

            "That's cool," she smiled.  "Well, just wanted to say h--...."  She stopped mid word, and stared at me, "Wait, I know you."

            "That's Max," Callie answered, half glaring.  "You went to school together your whole lives for crying out loud."  She muttered that last bit under her breath.

            "No way," her jaw dropped dramatically.  "This can't be Max!  She looks fantastic!"

            "Thanks," I started to smile back, but then felt a slight sting.  Did she mean that I used to look awful?  Was that an insult?  "Hi, Allison.  Sandy, Mary." I gave a nod to the other ladies who were now giving me quiet hello's and small waves.

            "Well, listen, we were just heading to another store, so I guess we'll see you around," Callie sounded short as she spoke and started to head towards the exit.  I was so surprised by her change in tone I just sort of stumbled after her.

            Once we were back in the corridor heading towards another department store, "What was that about?" I whispered.

            "Nothing," she murmured, looking at her feet as she walked, "I just don't like her very much."

            "Why not?"

            "Hey!"  Her head popped up, startling me slightly, "Why don't we grab some lunch before we look at more clothes?  I am starving!"

            "Sure," I replied, somewhat stunned.

            She was back to herself, and I didn't push anymore, but I knew that something was not right about that encounter.  We headed off to the food court where we both found ourselves in the mood for some artery clogging Chinese.  Deciding that it was completely pretentious to eat Chinese food in a mall with chopsticks, we agreed that we simply had to do it.  It was silly, but delightfully carefree and entertaining.

            "Listen," she began after we had giggled through half our meal.  "I am sorry about that with Allison, I just can't stand her."

            "That's okay." I shrugged, "I am sure you have your reasons."  I wanted to push, but she had become subdued again, and it was such an odd color on her.

            "She does stupid stuff." she continued unprovoked, "She hangs around with stupid people.  Like, she goes to those parties that Michelle goes to sometimes, and they all just act like complete idiots, you know?"

            I nodded, envisioning the drunken stupors that Ben had detailed before.

            For a moment, Callie sat silently, chewing on her straw absentmindedly, staring at something very far away, lost in her thoughts.  She looked troubled, something I had never seen on her before, and it unnerved me.  I wondered if she and Allison had been friends and it had ended badly, but I couldn't imagine what might have happened.  I wonder if Ben would know? 

            Whatever the reason, I didn't like seeing her in such a distant place, so I quickly changed the subject to something I knew would cheer her up.

            "You know," I began slyly, "If I am putting this much into getting new clothes, I should probably get new shoes too, don't you think?"   That did it.  Her eyes sparkled and she grinned widely at me. 

            "Absolutely."

            A few moments later we were back at it, heading into the next store of her choosing.  This time, she meant business, and I spent the majority of time in a dressing room as she flung piece after piece of clothing over the door.  I didn't even mind that she made me come out with each new acquisition on to model for her approval.

            As I showed her the fit of a sleek pair of gray pants and white shirt, we both startled at the sound of Allison's voice from behind us.

            "That looks really hot on you!" she cooed.

            "Um, thanks," I stuttered, not sure what to make of the glare that Callie was directing towards Allison.

            "So, are you buying for anything in particular?" she waltzed over and began studying me as I stood, understandingly confused.  It was like she was completely oblivious to the discomfort that Callie was visibly emanating.

            "Just for a date," Callie sighed.

            "Oooooh!" she said breathlessly, "Who with?  Is he hot?"

            Callie glared and rolled her eyes hard.  Not at all in the joking way she had with me earlier.  I was missing something big between the two of them... 

            I was about to share Ben's name, but as soon as I opened my mouth, Callie interrupted, "No one you would know."

            I felt my brow furrow as I looked at her for clarification.  Of course Allison would know Ben, so why wouldn't Callie want her to know?  The look she gave me told me to trust her, and that is exactly what I did.

            "You know, I saw something here earlier that would look perfect on you!" Allison said excitedly and ran back out to the racks quickly.  Callie flashed me a look of exasperation, and I conveyed my confusion as best I could. 

            Very quickly she had returned with a red dress in her hands, holding it up for my approval.

            "It's nice."  I forced on a smile as best I could.  The dress was most certainly not my style, not something that would look good on my shape, although she could have worn it with ease and looked stunning.

            "Oh," she smiled, looking me square in the eyes, "And it's a large, so it should fit."

            I felt my brow furrow, and couldn't shake the sting of embarrassment.  I reflexively looked down at myself, wondering what about me had given her the impression that I needed a large.  I may not be Hollywood skinny, but I had always been rather "petite" as Grams would call me. In fact, the sizes we had been picking out thus far had been smalls and mediums. Never one to worry about weight, or care about sizes, I found the self consciousness that was spreading unusual.  How had she done that?  More importantly, why had she done that?

            "Wait," I blinked hard as I tried to push the feeling to suck in my stomach out of my head, "What?"

            "Shut up, Allison," Callie snapped.  I had never heard her take a tone other than bubbly with anyone before.  "She doesn't need your help."

            "Well, I think it would look sexy on her," she smiled at me.  "I have to take off anyway!"  Her imperviousness to the sudden change in Callie's tone was an obvious show, and it made the interaction all the more confusing to me.  "Great to see you again, Max!  And you really are looking great!"

            "Um," I said, stunned.  "Thanks?"

            "See you around!" Allison waved as she turned on her heels and walked away.  She held up the dress eyeing it as if she were contemplating it for herself, before sticking it on a random rack without breaking stride.  It was clear that she understood the source of Callie's ill temper, but she had done a fabulous job of not letting it get to her.  At least visibly, anyway. 

            Callie was once again staring at something far away, her face contorted in an unfamiliar frown.  A young sales girl, I would say twenty-ish, popped up to ask if we needed any assistance, at which point Callie inhaled slow and controlled, before turning and responding.

            "We need something for an important date," she smiled, forced.

            That was the end of it.  She and the sales girl flitted off browsing various garments, and after a moment or two, Callie was Callie again.  My curiosity was in total overdrive, but I refused to even hint.  I was too happy with the thought of our new friendship to even think of risking it by dig into something that I am sure if she wanted me to know, she would have told me right then.  I filed all of it back into the corners of my brain as best I could, making a note to check with Ben for any potential insights.

            The rest of the afternoon went just as the beginning of the trip had;  lighthearted and easy.  She was incredible company, and I found it easier to relax and enjoy myself with her than I had even with friends in my relationship with Eric.  When it was good anyway, before they all took a stance of not choosing sides, that equated to them all choosing his side.  Combine that with my recent ousting as a member of my own family and I am a prime candidate for some deep rooted abandonment issues.

            I felt myself getting carried away with a feeling of belonging, and I didn't care.  I had been fighting everyone and everything for so long that it felt cathartic to just exhale and get sucked into it.  Callie Davids and I could be pals, and Ben Stevens and I could go on a date.  I could live in Biddleton without it sucking the lifeblood right out of me.  And I could enjoy all of it.  A week ago, all unfathomable concepts, and now something that I was happily immersing myself into.  An unexpected twist, but one that I was suddenly lapping up as a most welcome change. 

            While Callie was initially insistent on a black dress with spaghetti straps, we both fell in love with a pair of sleek black pants and a short sleeved, floaty, baby doll style light green blouse.  As for footwear, a simple pair of black platform boots.  It was a cute outfit, and I felt comfortable in it which was a hardcore prerequisite while shopping.  As intrigued by the idea of the date as I was, I knew that once in front of Ben, my calmed demeanor would most likely unravel fast.  I would have to investigate the whole crooked smile, flushing cheeks phenomenon at some point.

            And that was that.  After my clothes acquisition, we ran her errands, and then were off heading home for me and to work for her.  While she had recovered from our encounter with Allison, she never did quite make it all the way back to where she had been.  It was a subtle change, and it was barely noticeable, but I wasn't able to ignore it. 

            After our goodbyes, and promises to share all the gory details about every second of my date were made, I was back in my house feeling like an hour had passed when it had been closer to five.  Time flies when you are having fun, now a proven theory I suppose.  And while I had spent the day growing more and more excited about my tomorrow, the beginning twinges of nervousness had returned.  I wanted to focus more on the Callie and Allison conflict, but my mind had lost the ability to think of more than that one topic.  I was about to fulfill a teenage fantasy, in a new snazzy outfit no less, but it was intimidating and thrilling all at once.   

            Ready or not, I was about to go out with Ben Stevens.