The Mall - Megan McCafferty Page 0,71

This summer at Bellarosa was just a placeholder until I could start my real life in New York City like I’d always dreamed. Once I got there, I wouldn’t ever have to see her or any of the other pathetic Pineville lifers ever again. At Barnard, I would finally find my people. I’d be surrounded by thousands of young women like Simone Levy who were ambitious and bright and would never settle for a lifetime of selling overpriced hoochie couture to a needy and fundamentally tacky clientele. And now that Sam Goody also wanted nothing to do with me anymore, no one tied me to this place I’d so desperately wanted to leave. I should have felt remorseless and relieved, right?

Wrong. So, so, so wrong.

I felt lower—and lonelier—than I ever had in my entire life.

Truly down in the dumps.

Or, as Zoe put it, the “dumper.”

And that was when …

I

looked

up.

43

MALL BRAWL SHUTS DOWN FASHION SHOW

Ocean County Observer

Sunday Edition

August 18, 1991

PINEVILLE, N.J.—An underage model for Bellarosa Boutique was assaulted at Parkway Center Mall’s Back-to-School Fashion Show on Saturday afternoon.

According to Ocean County police officers on the scene, the incident began when Andrea Bellarosa, 18, of Pineville, New Jersey, tackled the model as she posed on the runway. Dozens of witnesses report hearing Bellarosa shout an obscenity before knocking the 17-year-old victim off the catwalk and into the nearby fountain.

“She screamed, ‘Die, Mono [expletive]’ and charged the runway,” said Bethany Darling, 18, an employee for Surf*Snow*Skate who modeled earlier in the show. “[Redacted] never saw it coming.”

Because the victim is a minor, her identity is being withheld.

Tensions escalated when Bellarosa Boutique’s owner, Giavanna Bellarosa, 39, also of Pineville, attempted to stop her daughter from repeatedly dunking the victim’s head underwater. A team of police officers and security guards assembled to separate and remove the young females from each other and the scene. Potential criminal charges for Andrea Bellarosa included assault and disorderly conduct. However, after being treated for minor injuries, the unnamed victim chose not to pursue legal action.

“It’s the craziest thing to happen here since the Cabbage Patch riot of Christmas ’83,” remarked Sonny Sexton, 20, a technician for Fun Tyme Arcade, referring to the infamous holiday stampede that resulted in the hospitalization of 14 shoppers and Kay-Bee Toy and Hobby employees.

It was a disturbing end to the 12th Annual Back-To-School Fashion Show, an event that has long been considered a cultural highlight of the late summer season. One observer, Zoe Gomez, 19, assistant manager of America’s Best Cookie, struck a mournful tone.

“The chlorinated waters of the Wishing Well run black with mascara today.”

44

STALLING

A lot happened in the six days between my bathroom revelation and leaving for Barnard.

First, I’d made it my mission to master K-turns, four-way stops, and parallel parking. I approached behind-the-wheel training with the same focus and intensity I’d always applied to my schoolwork, Mock Trial, or Odyssey of the Mind. My parents were sufficiently impressed with our practice sessions in the parking lot of Worthy Orthodontics and Pediatric Dentistry that neither objected to the use of “their” Volvo for the final driving test. I chose Dad’s, but only because I knew he’d be trading it in for a midlife crisis car soon enough. Frank’s Corvette was Kathy’s bimbo dress. They were adults and I couldn’t do a friggin’ thing to stop them from making utter fools out of themselves.

I got a perfect score on the road test. I was happy, but my mouth was closed in my driver’s license photo. My tooth had been broken beyond repair. It needed a full replacement.

“The other one too,” Mom had said.

“Both anterior central incisors,” Dad had said.

“Eight and nine,” they said together.

It turned out, I couldn’t just get one shiny new fake tooth and expect it to blend in with all my original old teeth. Many cosmetic dentists went too far, insisting on veneers for the entire upper row, but my parents didn’t think that was necessary in my case. They only fixed the busted tooth and the one right next to it. I still wasn’t used to the unfamiliar contours of my new smile. The difference was measurable in micro-millimeters, but I could feel every strange bit of it when I ran my tongue over my teeth.

I was lightly gassed during the procedure—grinding down tooth enamel with a sander wasn’t painful, exactly, but it wasn’t particularly pleasant. I was absolutely not whacked-out on drugs. I was lucid, if more relaxed than usual, even under the uncomfortable circumstances. I believed what