The hours passed slowly. The bus stopped often and I hesitated to get off unless I needed to switch buses after what had happened at the Indianapolis station. My back and legs were cramping up from sitting down for so long. I fell asleep often to pass the time. After what seemed like forever, and a million bus switches, the bus finally pulled into Port Authority in New York City. I trembled in anticipation. I couldn’t believe I had actually made it. A part of me had believed that this was too good to be true, that I would wake up and be back in the attic with Mrs. Anderson screaming at me. I was nervous to walk around such a big city after a few years of barely seeing the light of day. Prior to coming to stay with the Andersons I had lived with a foster family that lived on the outskirts of Chicago. I had spent my days running around the city with some of my foster siblings and had become accustomed to a big city. My time with them had ended when the police arrived at the house and it was discovered that the Reeds were operating a meth kitchen in the basement. Now I felt socially inept and afraid of what was waiting for me. Mentally chastising myself, I gathered my bag and got off the bus. I looked around the station. It was enormous, and there were so many people. I walked out the doors and stared in awe at the buildings around me. Chicago had seemed so large at that time, but looking at the city around me it couldn’t compare. The air was humid but I welcomed it after the chill of the bus. My ears filled with loud honking and yelling from the throngs bustling around me, and there was something to look at everywhere. I had never seen so many people in my life. Looking down at my oversized sweatshirt and Mr. Anderson’s baggy shorts, I felt embarrassed. I needed to find a store and get a few things before I got to campus.
A kind lady inside had told me where to go to reach the subway and I was glad to get the exercise after being cooped up. I had pulled my hood down when I got outside but soon pulled it back up after I noticed stares coming from all directions. They must be looking at my clothes I thought to myself before putting my head down and walking faster. Once I got to the subway station I decided to take it to Times Square. I was exhausted by the trip and needed to go check into my dorm room, but I needed to see Times Square first. In one of my foster homes my foster sister had a print of Times Square that she had hanging on the wall. I would lay awake at night staring at the print illuminated by the moonlight streaming in from the window and dream about escaping and going there. Well I had escaped, and now I was going there! I was hoping there would also be some shops. The weird looks had continued and I didn’t know how much more I could take before losing my nerve and going to hide in a restroom or something. I followed the rush of people into one of the subway trains and held on. The subway smelled like sweat and dirt and all of us were packed into the car like sardines. I loved it.
Walking up the stairs and seeing Times Square made me tear up. People swarmed around me hurrying on their way but I had stopped in my tracks. It was glorious. There were lights and billboards everywhere advertising everything under the sun. Music was playing, some songs I recognized from before the Andersons, but others were new and exciting. Street performers were dressed up in different colorful costumes, and tourists were taking pictures with them and immediately getting hustled by others. Stores were everywhere, and I suddenly wished I could just bottle the moment so that I would never forget what I was feeling. The sense that I was exactly where I had always meant to be. It was exhilarating. There was a feeling of energy that flowed around me, waking me up, and making me feel like I could conquer everything.
I spotted a Forever 21 and hurried over to it. As I walked in my jaw dropped, I hadn’t been to a store in so long but even with the stores I had been in before my “imprisonment”, none of them had ever been this large. I didn’t know where to start. An employee hustled over to me as I continued to gape at my surroundings.
She was tiny, shorter than me by several inches, with strawberry blond hair that was cut into a pixie cut, and bright spring green eyes. She had a lot of energy and reminded me somewhat of a cute elf.
“Oh my gosh you are gorgeous, but what are you wearing?” she exclaimed.
I grimaced and pulled at my sweatshirt. “Well that’s what I came here for,” I replied, trying to smile politely.
“Come on then, we have shopping to do,” she stated excitedly, pulling me by my bag to a rack. “You’re about a size 2 or 4 aren’t you?” she asked.
I shrugged. I honestly wasn’t sure. My clothing that I had been given by the Andersons were always too big, and they also never gave me much to eat. Thus my clothing never fit better because I never gained weight.
The little elf was grabbing tons of clothes from the racks and stuffing them into my arms. I shifted uncomfortably. I could only afford a few pieces and was definitely going to disappoint her if she worked off commission when I didn’t buy very much. After what seemed like an hour and a million clothes later she shuffled me into a fitting room and told me to try everything on and show her my favorites. Everything looked way better than anything I had worn for years but I tried to pick out reasonable pieces. I tried on a pair of jeans and a pair of shorts and couldn’t help but squeal when I looked in the mirror. It felt so good to try on a pair of clothes that fit! My friendly shopper had picked out a few basic tops, including some v-necks and camisoles, and I set those aside to buy along with the jeans and shorts. She had also picked out some dressier tops. I selected a black top with ruffles and added it to the pile. My eyes fell upon a white bandage dress. I knew I shouldn’t even try it on because it was impractical and I didn’t have any money, but I wanted it.
I hadn’t had anything pretty in so long. I pulled it over my head and pulled my arms through the sleeves. The dress came up high on my chest and came about mid thigh on my legs. The back was where it got fun however. The back dipped to right above my butt and showcased a lot of skin. I could imagine the shocked look on the Anderson’s faces if they had ever seen me wear such a thing. I could wear my hair up in a flirty pony tail with a pair of black heels like I had seen in the magazines. I loved it. I took it off, placed it in the yes pile, and quickly exited before I saw anything else. The employee was waiting for me outside of the fitting room and jumped excitedly when she saw my pile.
“I knew you would love that white dress,” she exclaimed.
I smiled at her. It was nice to meet someone who seemed genuinely pleasant after being around such cruel people for the past few years.
After grabbing a pair of flats, some flip flops, a bra, and a few pairs of underwear, I was ready to check out. I started to feel hot as the numbers on the register continued to rise. My heart sank when I saw the total. I really couldn’t afford this. But once again the strangest thing happened. Elizabeth (I had finally gotten the pixie employee’s name), took the dress price off the register and rang it up separately.
“Think of this as a welcome to New York gift,” she said with a wink.
“I can’t take that, “I replied, stunned.
“I’m putting it in the bag and you’re leaving with it. No-one could do justice to this dress like you could,” she said with a grin.
I found myself getting a bit choked up by her kindness. I thanked her profusely and walked out the door smiling to myself. New York was already shaping up to be the best experience of my life. I had changed into the shorts and one of my v-necks before leaving the store. It was time to head to Rothmore…and possibly Damon Pierce.