Outing with Mila (part 1).

Classes were over for the day. I put away my things in my backpack and mentally prepared myself.

“You ready?” Mila asked me, coming up to my seat with Sarah and Grace behind her. I nodded in response.

“Alright, you two have fun,” Sarah said. “We’d like some details after, okay?”

“Sure, sure. Now go away,” Mila shooed her friends, who left with hearty laughs and waving us goodbye. “Let’s go to the parking lot, then.”

The parking lot? Oh, right. Mila had a car.

I followed her, and the two of us walked silently side by side. I was already starting to get nervous that the silence would make things awkward. Without Sarah and Grace around, I was the only one who she could talk to, and we all know how good I am at that by now.

“I want to stop by some stores before we go to the coffee shop. You really don’t mind?”

I shook my head and **** myself to say at least something more. “It’s fine. Um… Where do you want to go?”

Mila smiled. “There’s this boutique I love that’s having a sale on tops, skirts and dresses today. If I find something nice I might also get some shoes to go with it. Oh, but I’ll make it quick, I promise.”

My enthusiasm was conflicted. I’d never liked shopping for clothes. I’m not into it, preferring mostly plain clothes and making my purchases quickly, but my sister and my mom take longer in choosing, which usually resulted in me waiting and being bored. But this time I was going with Mila, which meant… I’d get to see her in different outfits maybe? That made things a lot more exciting.

We reached the parking lot and Mila led me to her car. It was… more than I expected.

I recognized the brand thanks to the horse in the logo. A German car, white, shiny, spotless, two doors but four seats, a spoiler at the back, too. I didn’t know much about cars save for what I'd learned from racing games, but this had to be more expensive than the one that almost ran me over the other day.

“Don’t be shy. Get in,” she prompted me with an easy smile. She got the keys out of her backpack, clicked a button and the doors unlocked with a short beep and flashing lights.

I walked to the opposite side and put my hand on the door’s handle. I was worried that even me touching the car would sully it, not to mention putting my dirty feet in it. But then I opened the door, and all those worries went out the window.

The backseats were cluttered with shopping bags from everything from boutiques to supermarkets; the floor under the seats was dirty with… well, dirt; and… there were a couple toy dinosaurs under the passenger seat.

I looked at Mila, and her face went completely red. She covered her face with her hand and explained. “I… had to take my little brother to school this morning. He left a bit of a mess and… the toys are his, I promise.” She saw my eyes going to the bags at the back, so she had to add, “…But yes, those are mine.”

I couldn’t help it. The sight brought out a short, soft laugh out of me. I think it helped my nerves to realize that Mila could be disorganized, even with her own car.

She sat down behind the wheel and I finally got in as well. Her face was still red from the embarrassment, so in order to alleviate that and make more conversation, I asked, “So you have a brother? How old is he?”

Thankfully, it did help Mila relax. “Oh, he’s just seven. He goes to the elementary school division of ours.”

I don’t think I mentioned this, but our school, Hyougen High (remember I said it was funded by a Japanese man? Of course we have a Japanese name), is actually an escalator school starting from elementary and going as far as university.

Mila started the car and we got on the road.

“What’s his name?” I asked.

“Andrei. He’s a hyperactive brat, so he often gets in trouble in school. He recently got into dinosaurs, though, and that’s made him some friends.”

“Is he your only sibling?”

“He is, and thank God because he’s a handful on his own,” she laughed. “One time he got into my room and used my makeup to draw ‘war paint’ all over his face. That lipstick was so expensive, too! Urgh.”

She sounded genuinely frustrated, but at the same time, she was in a good mood. I could imagine that was the type of memory she would enjoy throwing in her brother’s face once he was older, just to embarrass him.

Mila then sighed, and with a wry smile, asked me, “You don’t get along too well with your sister, right?”

I flinched. She had hit a sore spot, but the last thing I wanted to do was make her feel bad for it. I nodded. “It’s… complicated. We got along as kids, but as we grew up she made her own friends, and I… didn’t,” I admitted, trying to awkwardly laugh it off.

“We don’t have to talk about that if you don’t want to,” she said. “I’m happy you’re speaking a bit more than usual, though.” I was, too. And I was happy she would tell me stuff about her home life. “By the way, there are many types of shops around where we’re going. Anything specific you might be looking for? I’ll go with you.”

I couldn’t think of anything from the top of my head. Not that I had much money, anyway. “If I see something, I’ll tell you.”

“Great!”

In about 15 more minutes, we made it to our destination. Mila parked her car in an underground lot and I followed her once more.

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