Sell Out (Avia, Chris)

[neneparkes]

The mall. Center of teenage economy and consumerism. It must have been really nice to be able to afford cheap junk like the stuff surrounding her. As she set up “shop” inside the mall—after finding a nice, sunny spot through a skyhole in the ceiling. She had been selling small things like necklaces and scarves…just silly things that she could make easily, but for some reason, other people just seemed to eat up. It had been hard as heck to con whoever ran The Mall to let her have an afternoon spot; but another artist from East Village had fallen ill, and had traded “spots”.

Since The Mall was technically a little bit of a nicer establishment than a street corner, Annie decided to dress up a bit nicer today; with a homemade dress made of good pieces of scrap material sewn together to it looked like a Frankenstein of a sweeping skirt, and a black tank top, some pieces of her homemade jewelry, and a scarf that adorned her head like a crown. Entirely Bohemian today. She looked artsy. That’s what she wanted.

Lithe calloused fingers strummed aimlessly on her guitar, as she swayed side to side, trying to draw people to her small shop. Some people stopped and paused to hear the guitar only because it was so rare to see people performing like this. Humming in tune to whatever her fingers fluttered across the strings, she started playing chords that sounded familiar to her—

A grin spread across her sunkissed skin, and she began to sing:

“There’s no curtain call…there’s no point to life all if each day ends and this bent heart of mine cannot heal…”

Oh, teenage angst. It was a beautiful thing.

People seemed to stop more frequently, dropping coins, and sometimes paper currency into the case of her guitar. She nodded in thanks, albeit vaguely. More absorbed in her music, she let the world fade away.

[q]

Normally, Chris avoided the mall. It wasn't that he didn't like the place. It was useful insofar as obtaining new clothes. It was even an interesting place to sit and watch people interact with the consumerism environment. He didn't like the place either. Nothing caught his attention. People milled about, buying things for what? To make themselves prettier, maybe. It made him feel out of place. He didn't think it was necessary. He was indifferent towards the mall experience. And considering how many things he wasn't indifferent to, it made going to the mall generally a waste of time. He had better things to do.

However, Chris did venture in sometimes. And on the last occasion, he had seen something that was worth going back for. He had watched her for a while, singing and playing her guitar, selling her homemade wares. If he hadn't already been running late, he would have stayed for longer.

But he had been determined. He had gone back to find the musician again. And again. He hadn't been lucky, and had felt so uncomfortable that he made a rather swift exit. This time, however, would be different. This time, he had come prepared.

This time, he had brought Avia along. However, 'brought' may have been a slightly generous verb: he had babbled at her, explaining the implications and encroachments of music on the human psyche, adding a few technical things about neuroscience for good measure. He had figured the onslaught of technobabble would make her come along, if only to shut him up. And adding that it was important was sure to have helped. Either way, she had consented. That was the important thing.

"It'll be really great," he told Avia as they walked through the mall. "Significant, even." He didn't tell her exactly what he was talking about, but that was only because he didn't think she would appreciate it if he explained in layman's terms. She'd probably think it was stupid. Well, he'd show her! So far, he had been too busy letting his mind churn to really pay attention to any of her questions, or even if she was saying anything. But Avia must have been used to that by now. They had known each other for a while; whenever Chris was excited about something, this was one of the ways he reacted.

Secretly, he was hoping that he hadn't screwed up. He didn't know that the singer would be there today. And after walking quickly down about half of the complex, he was starting to run out of steam. At least, until he heard the song. And there she was in the distance, strumming the guitar. "There!" he said, and hurried off.

Chris stopped a couple of metres from the musician. After trying to talk to her on a couple of other occasions, he had been tempted to interrupt her song. But he would wait. It had less to do with politeness and more to do with an appreciation for needing to make a living. His job just about managed to keep him and starvation separated. Plus, listening to the song could help fuel the barrage of questions. He had already waited to ask the questions. Another five minutes wouldn't make that much of a difference.

[avia]

Avia hated Chris sometimes. No, no, she took that back. Most of the time she felt she hated him. He was just too much for her to handle. And yet she kept coming back. She had to be crazy or something.

She had stopped listening to him the second the technobabble this and geek that and nerd herd the other thing came in to play. Avia knew the only way he was ever going to stop bothering her about whatever it was he was talking about was to get it over with. But did he have to go in public with her? She knew everyone from school who happened to be at the mall was watching. Awesome. As if they didn’t have enough reason to be cruel to her. It was bad enough she was mean to everyone and always picking fights. Now they would know her as the girl that spends time with the biggest nerd ever. Yay.

Avia let Chris drag her, which was sometimes just as literal as it was figurative, across the mall and all the way up to some girl peddling. A peddler? He brought her all the way out here to see a peddler? Avia had seen her several times before on street corners and just roaming about the city. She had never paid any attention because this girl had no real affect on Avia’s life. Thus, she didn’t matter. “This is what you wanted me to see?” she scoffed and folded her arms over her chest in a huff. “Just give her a couple dollars and let’s get out of here, Chris. I thought you said this was important.” she commanded impatiently, although she knew full and well he would probably either ignore or not notice a word she said. She knew the look by now: he was gone to the world. Science was all he could process. She could strip right now and he wouldn't notice.