I scrambled out of my dad’s car as soon as he parked it and slammed the door shut before he had the chance to say anything. He shook his head and drove away. Today would be the day that I would finally beat Monique. Today, I would get the shoes I’d been dreaming of, quite literally.
I pulled my blonde hair over my shoulders and shoved my shades onto the top of my head. I wasn’t stunning but I was confident with the way I looked and was relatively popular and people liked me for me, including the guys but I wasn’t Monique. Guys love her extra large chest and how she always plays 'hard to get'. The thing is, guys like the chase, and I like to be up front, if a guy likes me, I'll tell them I like them or where to stick it. Monique will always be number one. But I was here to prove a point, that any girl could have what she wanted, not just the mega rich kind. I scurried towards Selfridges and prayed I’d get there before Monique. There was another hour to wait before the shop opened for a twenty minute sale but last year, when the same event was held, I arrived exactly when the sale started and there was a huge crowd of people surrounding the shop and I had no chance of getting anything nice.
Apparently, an hour early didn’t make much of a difference. There was still a crowd outside the shop, buzzing with excitement and anticipation. If only I could squeeze through them.
Mustering all my strength, I slammed straight into the crowd. Several people grunted and shoved me back; I wasn’t going to get past them this way. I took a step back and analysed the crowd. I wasn’t able to go through and I definitely didn’t want to swan-dive into the crowd either. The only option left was...to go under.
I took a deep breath and hoisted my Prada bag onto my shoulder and crouched down until I was on my knees. If my Citizens of Humanity jeans got ripped or damaged in the slightest, I would not be happy. A few months ago, I had queued up outside Selfridges for hours on end so that I could buy these jeans. They were my life; after all they did cost me two-hundred-and-forty pounds. If I could just get my hands on the Annis crystal platforms, then my life would be complete, pure bliss even but if Monique got them first, well...I’d die. I’d never be able to pay the full price of them, and Monique’s dad would never give her that kind of money, even if they were millionaires...which they are.
Crawling between the multiple pairs of legs, I tried to dodge the kicking feet. I yelped when someone stood on my fingers.
“Watch it, jackass!” I yelled before charging ahead. I bowled through the crowd and clawed at the feet that tried to squash me flat against the pavement. I grunted and continued moving forwards until I slammed straight into the glass door. A sharp pain shot through my forehead, I gasped and rubbed it with my hand. I shoved people out of my way so that I could stand up. A few moments had passed before Monique was next to me. She had barged through the crowd a lot quicker than I had. People began piling onto the back of the crowd and tried to shove their way forward. Instead of getting to the front, they just squished me and Monique completely against the door. My face was mashed into the glass and my lips were splayed out. What an attractive view the shop-assistants were receiving.
“What are you doing here?” Monique snapped; her voice muffled against the glass.
“What are you doing here?” I questioned her, trying to push myself off the glass.
A girl from behind shoved into the back of me and I was yet again, pushed against the glass door. I think I might have fractured my cheekbone.
“Getting the Annis crystal platforms before you do, of course,” she smirked, pulled out a mirror and plumped her lips into a kissy face. “I’ll be perfect when I have them, I’ll have everything.” Monique was the most self-obsessed person I knew. She only cared about herself. Yeah, sure, I’m no different but at least I don’t think I’m God.
“Who are you trying to convince, you or me?” I asked sarcastically.
“There’s no need to convince anyone, they already know it,” she replied and pumped up her hair with her hands. Just because she started her period when she was ten, she thinks she’s some sort of reincarnation of Marilyn Monroe, just because everyone else, including me were…late developers.
“Those shoes are mine, Monique, so back off,” I told her straight. I was not in the mood for her mind games.
“In your dreams,” she snapped.
A shop-assistant approached us and began unbolting the glass doors. She opened them and welcomed us.
“You have twenty minutes to find the Annis crystal platforms! Whoever finds them first can buy them for half of the original sale price. If they are not found in the twenty minutes, they will return to the original price of eight-hundred-and-seventy-five pounds. Good luck,” she yelled over the cheer of the crowd. We all shoved past her, trying to cram in through the doors. Monique tripped me up and I felt flat on my face and people began trampling over me.
“Take that, bitch!” she called from about five feet in front of me. Monique shoved through the crowd and began searching in mountains of clothes for the platforms. I scrambled to my feet and bowled into her, knocking her off her feet and threw clothes around, searching for the shoes I was dying to wear. Monique grabbed my foot and pulled it from underneath me. I fell flat on my face, my nose was squished against the magnolia flooring; a bruise was sure to surface soon.
I kicked her repeatedly in the nose, causing my leg muscles to tighten and ache. I looked over my shoulder to see blood dripping from her delicately sculpted nose. She glared at me with pure hate in her eyes.
For payback, she dug her manicured nails into my flesh and snarled at me.
“Get off me, you psychopath!” I tried to shove her off me but she kept a firm hold of my ankle.
“You’re not getting those shoes, Rebecca, so give up already!” She yelled over the noise that filled the shop.
The crowd had filled the small shop and were busy hunting for the beautiful shoes I’d soon find.
“Get off your high horse and into the shit where you belong!” I yelled back. It’s about time someone set her straight. The sooner she learnt her lesson the better. This made me even more determined to find them before her. I crawled my way towards a circular table of jeans with Monique in tow.
“Get the hell off me!” I screamed, thrashing my legs out, hoping to kick her in the face again, hopefully, hard enough to make her let go. I slammed my heel into her face and she screamed out in agony. I climbed to my feet and lurched for the rack of jeans; I swan-dived onto it and threw the neat piles of jeans over my head and heard Monique yelp as they hit her on the head. No sparkly platforms here. I turned and glanced around, watching the crowd turn into wild beasts, hunting for their prey. I had become one of them. I shoved the thought away and scanned my surroundings. Something, amongst a pile of sweaters, sparkled under the florescent lights. I ran straight for it. Monique stood and tried to jump on my back. She missed by about a mile and landed in a heap on the floor. Shoving my hand into the pile of sweaters, I grabbed the pair of platforms that were connected together with a single silver ribbon. My heart lurched with such adoration for this pair of shoes I held in my hands. I clutched them to my chest and ran to the till.
“I found them!” I squealed at the shop-assistant.
“Uh..no you didn’t,” Monique interrupted, snatching the platforms from my hands. “Can you wrap these up for me please?”
“Um, these are for my very sick friend, Jade, she’s only got a few days to live," tI sputtered whilst trying to grab the shoes from Monique.
“Funny, my best friend is also ill,” she mused, clutching the shoes tightly to her chest.
“That’s odd, it was only yesterday that you told Jen that you were desperate to wear them to the beach party tonight,” I smirked at her and the shop-assistant huffed impatiently.
“Could you just hurry up and wrap these up for me please?” Monique muttered and handed the platforms to the shop-assistant.
Quickly, I grabbed five-hundred pounds from my purse, threw it at the bewildered shop-assistant, grabbed the shoes and legged it. I ran for the phone that was attached to the surround sound speakers.
“Monique’s real name is Ethel Snodgrass,” tears of laughter rolled down my cheek as I shouted this into the phone. Before the shop-assistant could scold me, I bolted for the door, dodging grasping hands. Monique gasped with humiliation as she realised that I had said that aloud and it had been played through the speakers. The crowd members laughed hysterically along with me as I ran out through the open glass doors. I had moved my final piece, I had called check mate. And I had won.