Chapter 1

After chilling in my room a while, I decided it was as good a time as any to head over the the furniture warehouse.  I sighed to myself.  Trish probably was having to be going somewhere and I'd most likely have to walk there.  Obviously I'll be buying something, but I never bring them all home on the same day, not to mention that the store is within walking distance.  I'm not one of those 'I walk everywhere even if it would take me two hours walking briskly to get there' types.  I have a deal with this furniture store for free shipping since I buy so much.  They'll just ship it to Ms. Rodrigis' house whenever I want it to.

So I went downstairs to see if Trish still could take me to the store.  I found her in the living room reading one of her countless fashion magazines.  Do I know the title?  Well, I don't and I don't care.

Anyway, she got up and walked over to me.  Since I ask her a lot she could guess already, "you want a ride, Teej?"

"Actually, yes.  You have any makeovers scheduled?"

"Yeah, I do later.  Not right now, though."

"Who are you giving a makeover to this time?"

I ask her because she is 'the stylist of the town'.  So she is 'famous' enough to makeover local celebrities.  Local politicians and what not.  The ones no one cares about, but that I still know about.  I know what you're thinking: 'politicians care about style?'  You'd be surprised.  They want makeovers often, but they're not the 'fun' kind, they're the professional boring kind.

So this is pretty much how she has a house like this-typically stylists get little of an income, but she has a reputation that gets her the dough.  Lucky for her too since she's in the beginning of her career.  I thank you tube.  She made some makeover tapes...and that got her locally famous eventually.

"I'm giving Lena Hephburn a makeover."

"Who's she?"

"Some doctor something or another."

"Ah, I see."  Doctors seem to be the other profession a person has if they request a makeover from Trish-she's not cheap.

So we got in her car.  On our way there, we passed the house.  The extra creepy 'haunted' house.  I've seen people go in there before...and it's not pretty.  The people in that house are almost as pale as I am.  I don't think they go outside much...They get the newspaper and that's the end of 'em.  I don't even know how many people live in there.  You'd think that with a house like that, it would be one hermit living in there, but I think there's more... As an interior designer, I've always hoped that I'd never be called to give that place any sort of a makeover.  Since the outside looks so scummy-I can't even think about its inside.  If it's bad on the outside, usually that means it's worse on the inside...But, I guess I don't know.  People assume that based on a person's looks all the time, so they may think I'm extra creepy on the inside because I'm so pale.  Or maybe lacking personality or something?  People need to stop assuming...that's not how I am at all!  But still, it's hard to imagine that house being nice and well kept on the inside if it looks like this on the outside.  It's, like, such a high impossibility...

I really need to stop comparing myself and people's judgments with houses.  It's weird.  I think this is why I decided to become an interior designer: because I can easily change the inside of a house to look better, but I'm already through with my insides.  They're totally fine!

When I got to the store, Darius was there waiting for me.  You know, the annoying sales guy that has to ask you what you're looking for in the beginning (even if you come in here all the time and know exactly where to find everything).  It's funny- my grandpa used to be a salesman, but the even stalkier kind-the kind that goes door to door...Those are the kind that you're like, 'gosh, just get out of my face!  No I don't want to buy that awesome new gadget.  Thanks a lot.  Good bye!'  Am I being disrespectful of his job?  Probably, but I can't help it: I hate salesmen.  It's not like I'm telling anyone about my hatred.

"Good afternoon Mr. Evans.  Can I help you with anything?"

See, I come here so much that everyone in here knows my name.  He knows that I won't accept his help, so he seriously needs to stop asking.

Since I come in here often, I still have to be civil, "no, I'm good.  Thanks anyway, Darius."

I passed all of the furniture upstairs and went to the inconspicuous stairs.  The upstairs displays all of the furniture like you'd see designed in a room.  There's different areas for each type of room.  But, there's a major problem with that: it's all over-priced.  Since it's all arranged nicely like that, they can put a heftier price tag on it just because it looks 'nicer' because of how it's arranged.  People are stupid...Also, I don't need these people to show me how to decorate, I don't want to copy them, and I have my own creative way of designing.

So instead of looking upstairs I went down the spiral staircase.  Downstairs everything is arranged much differently.  Nothing is displayed fancifully, but the couches are by the couches and the beds by the beds.  If I want something in particular, this method of display is much faster even if it doesn't look as nice.

Quickly, I found the couches.  They tend to be the furniture item that people often look for the most (I would know), so they're displayed as soon as you walk down the stairs.

I scanned through the couches and my expert eye was caught on the lime couch for a while.  But, in thinking about it, it didn't look like the right couch because it was encompassed by a hard wood and that would be uncomfortable to bump into.  Ms. Rodrigis wanted something modern, but nothing too out there.  I decided that that seemed a little out there.

But then my eyes trailed to the bright red couch.  It look sleek and comfortable with the one arm, and the pillow was a nice touch.  I looked at the couch to find the tag for it, and it was in her price range.  There was also a fabric swatch displaying many colors.  I liked the sea foam green color-it would add the 'fun' that she wanted but it wouldn't be too out there.

On sitting on it, it was nice and soft, but just firm enough.  This was the right sofa. 

I found a lot of my stuff no problem.  When I was looking at the end tables, I really liked this one with glass in the middle, and I liked the wood it had on display so I didn't bother to look at the swatches.  I try not to bother with wood if I can't help it.  It's my least favorite thing to decide on..as long as it's not super light wood, I'm fine.

After quickly finding the one I wanted, I scanned the end tables to make sure that I made the right decision.  One made me laugh since it had lights running on it in random places.  It looked like the end table from a cheesy 80's sci fi.

As I continued to find other pieces of furniture for Ms. Rodrigis, I picked up my cell phone knowing it would be Trish.  No one cares about little old me.

"Yes, Trish?  I'm still picking out furniture."

"Oh, I'm sorry.  When you're done, I was wondering if you'd like to go to the park with me.  Lena cancelled because 'I have to go into the hospital now to give an emergency C-section.' Can you believe that?"

Trish sounds insensitive, I know.  I used to agree, but she just doesn't like anyone to get in the way of her schedule.  She is the kind of person that likes order and wants everything planned.

By now, I just joke with her, "yeah, oh my llama, how on Earth could someone need an emergency C-section in the middle of the day?"

"Right?"  Sometimes she is hard to judge.  Was she being sarcastic with my sarcasm, or was she ignorant of my sarcasm?  One cannot know with Trish.

"Alright.  Could you pick me up in half an hour?  I'm wrapping this up.  I'll be ready to go by then."

"Okay, fine.  Four o'clock it is."

"See you then, bye."

"Ciao."

After I was done picking out all the furniture, I went over to talk with one of the cashiers about my purchases.  I am rather good at memorizing, so each time I come here I just memorize each product number that I am planning to buy and have the cashier check my math for me.  Math was one of my stronger subjects, so it helped being good at that with my job.  I don't bother bringing a calculator.

"Oh, good afternoon, Mr. Alabaster.  Nice to see you."

I frowned at her.  All of the cashiers have some kind of an inside joke about my skin and I don't appreciate it.  I would go to another furniture store, but this place has the best furniture at modest prices so I can deal with a little being made fun of...

"Whatever, now let me tell you the numbers of the furniture pieces I wanted to buy today."

"Oh, Mr. Alabaster.  So sensitive."

I gave her an annoyed look and she smiled at me.  I was deeply frightened.  Instead of standing there like an idiot, I just ranted off all the design numbers I planned on buying.

"Such a ranter, Mr. Alabaster.  Slow down."

I rolled my eyes and said the numbers again.  You'd think I would've forgotten them by now, but I'm one of those lucky people with photographic memory.

She told me how many simoleons it was.  I smiled to myself because it was under my budget but not by much.  I handed her the simoleons.

"When would you like it shipped by?"
"Tomorrow morning would work fine."
I told her Ms. Rodrigis' address.

"Thanks and have a nice day."

I smiled a little as I went.  At least she didn't call me Mr. Alabaster again.

As I left, I sped walked as fast as I could without it being obvious that I was walking quickly.  Those cashier girls are notorious for making me feel uncomfortable and I like to get out of their gaze as soon as possible.

I noticed that there was some kind of a liquid underneath my feet a moment too late.

I slipped on my knees hard and caught myself with my hands. At least I didn't fall on my butt, but my knees were really wet, and after I dried my shoes off a little, I made my way faster to the door, this time looking at the ground first.  I heard Darius speak before I ducked out, "sorry about that Mr. Evans.  Someone just spilled their water bottle and the janitor hasn't been around yet to clean it up and I don't know where the signs are to warn you of the water."

I didn't answer him.  Then, I heard another voice.  It was one of the cashier girls, "Oh, so Mr. Alabaster is clumsy, is he now?"  I heard little giggles from the cashiers as I left the store.  How embarrassing.

When I got outside, Trish was there waiting for me right away.  She never disapoints: I never have to wait too long for her to be there.  The worst it was was ten minutes because she was finishing up a makeover for Casey Williams.  She thinks she's so great because she's an up and coming local singer, and was extremely picky of Trish.  She's a great stylist, Casey didn't need to be so picky.  So that took her longer than she was anticipating.

When we got to the park, Trish said, "I have to go to the lady's room.  I'll be back."

Not knowing what I felt like doing, I just stood there.  No one was at the park anyway.  Then suddenly I noticed Maggie.  She used to be one of my good friend when I was in grade school.  You know, the time when no one cares what you look like!  All of my friends drifted away from me when we got in middle school because they became too embarrassed to be seen with me.  Whenever I was with them, we'd get stares and that was too much for them.  I don't blame them.

Maggie was walking to me, "well, well, well, if it isn't Terrence."  I mentally corrected her in my head: it wasn't until I was in middle school that I changed my name to TJ.

I was surprised to see her here.  Yes I don't live in a giant city, but we don't often run into people we know in Longview.  At least I don't.