Unknown to David, she was wearing the first skirt she had ever possessed in her life. It was a forest-green wool tartan of some sort that left her legs bare from mid-thigh down. The shoes, too, were more like sandals and felt weightless on her small feet. The white blouse and rust-coloured sweater fit her like a second skin; she was flushed scarlet because she felt utterly naked! David’s sister Janice had trimmed her hair that morning. Not the best job, she had said, but a remarkable improvement! Staring at herself in the mirror, Monica had felt as though she were looking at a complete stranger.
She didn’t realise she’d stopped walking until David took her hand, interlacing their fingers. Without realising, she leaned closer so that their shoulders touched, unconsciously trying to draw some of David’s confidence and strength into herself.
‘You okay?’
Still keeping her gaze in the vicinity of the ground, she took a deep breath, tried to steel herself, and nodded.
They had almost reached the front doors when she realised that no one had said a word to her, that no one had come up and tried to make fun of her or bully her, or-
‘Hey, David! Who’s that with you?’