FP2: Paper route

I have one week left of my paper route before it’s time to go back to school, and I plan on trying out a different look each morning. Today I’ve chosen a white ruffled skirt with red polkadots that comes to my knees. I’m wearing red leggings underneath, a white tank top, and some big chunky necklaces. To complete the look, I’ve tied a bandana in my hair with my fantastic new bangs I got last spring hanging down. I tore my closet apart looking for the match to my black fingerless glove that goes to my elbow, but to no avail, so I’ll have to go for an eighties Michael Jackson vibe I hadn’t planned on, but oh well. On my feet, I’m just rocking some flip-flops. It is still August after all!

Mr. Williams comes out to grab his paper in his bathrobe, which parts slightly to reveal a white undershirt and red plaid boxers. Get dressed before you come out, will ya? Who needs to see that at eight o’clock in the morning?

Mrs. Putnam comes prancing down the street with her two miniature poodles, Raspberry and Jupiter. They have matching bows around their ears, one with pink and one with green. Mrs. Putnam’s gray bobbed hair is so curly that she kind of looks like a poodle too.

“Hello Lila!” she says, waving at me with her sparkly ring-clad free hand.

“Hello, Mrs. Putnam!” I bend down and let Raspberry and Jupiter kiss me on the cheeks.

“How are you this morning? And what are you wearing today? Give us a spin!”

Mrs. Putnam is my number one fan, so of course I spin around so that she can see my latest creation.

“Well, now, you’ve captured an era today! But you really know how to give it your own viewpoint, don’t you?” Mrs. Putnam used to teach art criticism at a college in Boston. She thinks I have an eye for high fashion. “You’ll have to start emailing me pictures. Mr. Putnam and I have just sold the house!”

“What?? I didn’t know you were moving!”

“Yes, we don’t need all this space anymore, so we’ll be in the apartment on Beacon Street. You’ll have to come visit!”

“OK, I love Boston!” I picture us walking down Newbury Street, getting a table at a swank outdoor cafe, sipping espresso, as Raspberry and Jupiter lap water from china bowls at our feet. Except I’m not allowed to drink coffee, so this whole image minus the espresso.

“Have a lovely day, dear. Off we go!”

“G’bye, Mrs. Putnam!”

I wonder who will be moving into the Putnam’s house and if they’ll have kids my age. Maybe they’ll have a girl just my size and we can swap clothes. That would rule.


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