I'm in a dressing room when two young female voices enter. They chatter back and forth, excited. Hangers clank on metal rods. Girlish laughter. The two crowd into one stall next to me. Zippers unzip, shoes are flung off. A cell phone rings, playing "Party Like a Rockstar" by Shop Boyz. The call's ignored.
Girl 1: I totally need jeans. So bad.
Girl 2: Me too, but I'm only getting shorts today. And my gloss.
Girl 1: Oh my god that makes me think of that song, 'my lip gloss is poppin', my lip gloss is cool!'
Girl 2: My lip gloss is gonna make me pop! Make Ryan pop!
Girl 1: This is soooo cute, but I don't wanna get any tube tops until I get my boobs. I cannot wait until the 28th!
Girl 2: I know. You are so lucky. Your parents are so cool. You're gonna look so hot for senior year!
I have to see these girls. I am long finished but wait in my stall until I hear their curtain slide open. They look just like I did at 17.