#//this is from the China exclusive costumes btw | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

audreydoeskaren · 4 years ago

Text

History of Chinese standing collars (part 1: Ming & Qing)

So, a lot of people nowadays refer to a certain type of standing collar as a “Mandarin collar” but I'm not sure if that’s legit, because standing collars throughout Chinese history looked different. I was confronted by this topic when I was writing my post on 1950s Chinese fashion and felt like I had to make a separate post. I’m gonna do a quick break down of all the different types of standing collars in historical Chinese fashion from the 16th century to the present and how they developed.

Ming Dynasty (1368-1644)

The first mature 立领 liling standing collars were applied to women’s robes in the late 15th/early 16th century. Before any garment with a standing collar was invented, both men and women in Ming China wore garments with either a 圆领 yuanling round collar, ��领 zhiling parallel collar or 交领 jiaoling crossover collar, with crossover collars being the more common in womenswear.

Source here

Early Ming Dynasty portrait of a lady in a crossover collar robe.

The development of a standing collar was in large part thanks to the invention/adoption of the 子母扣 zimukou metal clasp button. I wonder why the fabric knotted buttons used on round collar robes were not used on standing collars in this period? They were awfully similar to the pankous of later. Anyway, at one point in the 15th century, some women thought it would be cool to add zimukou to their clothes and it resulted in this (they were also used on 比甲 bijia, 半臂 banbi and 短衫 duanshan but those are irrelevant to collars):

Source here

Part of 明宪宗元宵行乐图 (a painting depicting various Lantern Festival activities at the court of Emperor Xianzong), 1485. This lady is wearing a crossover collar robe with a zimukou at the middle.

Source here

Modern reproduction zimukou. You could buy these for cheap on Taobao if you want to sew your own Ming style hanfu btw.

In the 16th century a fashion revolution took place in China: the standing collar, which came out of nowhere, began to suddenly dominate women’s clothing. This OG Chinese standing collar was very tall and form fitting, usually covering all of the wearer’s neck. It had sharp, rectangular edges and was closed by two zimukou, one placed at the bottom of the collar where it meets the bodice and another slightly above, not reaching the top of the collar. An important feature that set this apart from the collars of the 20th century is that it was unstiffened and made of the same fabric as the robe, meaning it was soft and could be worn with the top bit folded over, showing the lining which could be of a contrasting color. For archival purposes let’s call this collar style 1.

There are various theories as to why the standing collar was invented, e.g. because of colder climate during the little ice age, which peaked in the late 16th/early 17th century. Methinks it was just a fad which stayed.

Source here

Late Ming Dynasty portrait, collar style 1.

Source here

Late 16th century/early 17th century aristocratic lady wearing a standing collar robe underneath a round collar robe. The top of her collar is folded over. Collar style 1 variation 2.

Qing Dynasty (1644-1911)

This style of collar became the norm for Han Chinese women’s fashion in the mid to late 16th century and stayed that way throughout the 17th and 18th centuries. While the clothing silhouettes and accessories changed, the shape of the standing collar remained the same.

Source here

Late 17th century illustration for pornographic novel 肉蒲团 (1657). Collar style 1, but it became fashionable in the 17th century to have rows of piping around the neck for each button, so variation 3. Oh and wlw pride come throoouuuugh

Source here

Early 18th century court painting, collar style 1 variation 3.

At some point in the late 18th century Han women decided it would be cool to use 盘扣 pankou, this fabric braided/knotted button of Manchu origin (more on Manchu dress later) on their collars instead of zimukou. The decoration also became more extravagant, with often rows of thick binding, piping or trim, corresponding to the decorations on the rest of the robe. It’s also slightly shorter, the upper button being at the very top of the collar. Let’s call this collar style 2.

Source here

(Presumably) late 18th century reverse glass painting showing collar style 2. The late 18th century deserves more attention, it’s such an important transitional period but also charming in its own way. This is true of European fashion of the period as well, I honestly love both places in the late 18th century.

In the beginning of the 19th century, the fashionable collar shape suddenly changed for some reason. It became extremely low, approximately only 1-2cm tall, only tall enough to accommodate one button. It still had crisp, rectangular edges. You could say this is another variation of collar style 2 but it is so iconic to the 19th century I think I’ll call this collar style 3.

Source here

Reverse glass painting ca. 1830. Han lady wearing a robe with collar style 3.

Now a brief look at Manchu womenswear. I am not an expert on Manchu historical fashion so tell me if I’m wrong. So the Manchus, who were apparently a confederation of Jurchen tribes from the area in what is northeastern China nowadays, invaded China successfully in the 1640s and remained the rulers of China until 1911 when they were replaced by the Republic of China. Throughout most of the Qing Dynasty Manchu women wore collarless robes, it was not until the mid 19th century that some Manchu women started to wear detachable collars to emulate Han women’s fashion, and not until around 1908 (!) when standing collars were actually added to their gowns themselves. Yes, period dramas did Manchu women dirty, poor gals have been dressed in the wrong costumes this, entire, time. The misrepresentation of Manchu historical fashion in the media in general is just fucking infuriating, but well, topic for a future post.

Source here

Late 17th century/early 18th century portrait of a Manchu lady. She is wearing a 衬衣 chenyi, a robe with straight sleeves, no slits and closed at the right side. It’s a casual gown worn for everyday activities. Her chenyi is collarless and the collar is closed by binding.

Source here

1840s/1850s court gown. She is wearing 氅衣 changyi (the bottom part of the first character should be 衣 not 毛 but this character is so obscure that it literally DOES NOT EXIST in the Chinese language anymore omg), a more elaborate style developed in the early 19th century with slits down both sides and wide trims along the collar, cuffs, side closure, side slits and hem. I have yet to see an extant example with a standing collar, all the changyi from the 19th century I’ve seen in museum collections are collarless, so the collar seen in paintings must’ve been detachable. Maybe some Manchu women liked Han women’s fashion and wanted to wear a detachable collar. I have, however, seen Manchu women’s vests and jackets with standing collars. These were similar to late 18th century Han women’s collars, so collar style 2.

Source here

1890s/1900s women’s vest with collar style 2.

Source here

Ca. 1908. Chenyi with standing collar. If the passage of time is still not clear, notice the Western fabric used. Collar style 2.

At first glance this might look like a cheongsam but it is not. Chenyi did not have slits down the sides, unlike most 20th century cheongsam. It may have been a source of inspiration for cheongsam though, as I have explained in one of my 1930s posts, although the more obvious prototype for cheongsam was the changyi with slits and standing collars.

Let us now turn our attention to Manchu menswear, which is where things get complicated. In the 17th and 18th centuries, the Manchu riding habit, 行服袍 xingfupao, was a form fitting calf length robe with form fitting long sleeves and 马蹄袖 matixiu “horse hoof cuffs”, closed at the side with pankou. It was constructed in the same method as Han Chinese clothing. This original Manchu robe was collarless----I cannot stress this enough. The Manchus did not come barging into China wearing robes with standing collars goddamnit, get your facts right period dramas.

Source here

Portrait of Emperor Kangxi in a xingfupao. This is from the early 18th century already but the style didn’t change much so you get the idea. I love this color btw I think he looks great in it.

The xingfupao was an informal riding habit and only one small part in the gigantic system of Manchu court dress, the rules of which are well documented but I don’t bother to look them up. If you would like to do that, Google 大清会典. At one point in the early 18th century some Manchu dudes decided it was cool to add a collar to their xingfupao (like... Han women??) and it resulted in this:

Source here

An early example from the Kangxi era (1661-1722), a xingfupao with a standing collar of a contrasting color. The hem is detachable for horse riding (horse riding was an important aspect of Manchu culture and that influenced many of their fashion decisions). Judging by the fur lining I assume the standing collar was added for warmth in winter? I also saw some xingfupao with fur trim attached to standing collars so maybe that was the purpose.

Standing collars on xingfupao was constructed in a similar way to Han women’s collars, with rectangular edges and closed by two buttons. Pankous, which were unique to Manchu dress, were used instead of the Han zimukou. It appears that this collar was also soft and unstiffened, so it could be worn with the top bit folded over like in ye olde times (the 16th century). It’s important to note that xingfupao with a standing collar were not common at all, maybe a 1/20 probability to see in museum collections. Construction wise it’s similar to collar style 2 but it appeared earlier and was exclusive to menswear, so let’s call it collar style 4.

Source here

Qianlong era (1735-1796) portrait, xingfupao with standing collar of the same color folded over. Collar style 4 variation 2.

Another garment with a standing collar was the dress of the officials, known by white people as “Mandarins”. From the artworks and photographs I’ve seen, the collar only appeared in the outfit with a 行服褂 xingfugua, a button down tunic with straight, wide sleeves and slits at the front, back and sides. It was usually worn in combination with xingfupao, like how a shirt and vest are fixed combinations in European menswear. However, the collar of this kind of outfit was separate from the tunic itself. A plastron with an attached collar was worn underneath the robe and tunic (completely detachable collars were also used I think??) and the collar was buttoned from the inside. Not sure if this qualifies as a standing collar at all since it isn’t even attached to the robe itself, but anyway let’s just call this collar style 5.

Source here

19th century portrait of an official. He is wearing a blue xingfupao, an indigo xingfugua and a blue detachable collar; a standard ensemble (well he’s also wearing pants and boots and stuff but that’s not the focus here). Collar style 5.

Oh I forgot to mention, after the Manchus took over China, they enforced their dress code on Han Chinese men but not Han Chinese women, so in the Qing Dynasty Han and Manchu menswear were one and the same but Han and Manchu womenswear were not.

I’ve only been talking about court dress so far, educated/well off civilian Han men would wear 长衫 changshan, a floor length robe, sometimes with a 马褂 magua, a short riding vest (derived from xingfugua), whereas poorer Han men would wear 短打 duanda, a short button down shirt, and pants. Well people who wore changshan also wore pants underneath but they’re not visible. All men wore pants tbh (incoming tangent), a while back when Harry Styles in a dress (which I stan) was making the rounds on social media some well meaning people were trying to find historical precedents for men wearing dresses and they named Chinese historical clothing as an example. I just wanna say, while I appreciate the sentiment, the harsh reality was that historical Han Chinese fashion was extremely gendered (except for a few brief time periods and a few select garments). Pants were reserved for men and skirts for women, the long gown like garments seen on men in historical portraiture were all robes, not dresses; you wouldn’t consider a long coat or bathrobe a dress nowadays, would you? Men always wore pants as undergarments while women wore petticoats. However I think that’s great for illustrating how our perception of whether a garment is masculine/feminine could change over time and that gender is socially constructed. Back to the main topic, to my knowledge, magua never had collars because it was a vest, changshan commonly had collars and duanda sometimes did too. I’m not sure when the standing collar began to appear on changshan, maybe when the court xingfupao gained collar style 4 it stuck in civilian fashion, maybe it was some point in the 19th century.

Anyway, fast forward to the late 19th century, the men’s changshan had a tall standing collar but again it was different to everything we’ve seen so far. It was exceptionally tall and had a smoothly tapering edge closed by only one pankou at the bottom. This resulted in a huge v shape gap down the middle. It’s still unstiffened but because of the lack of a rectangular edge it couldn’t be worn folded over. Let’s call this collar style 6.

Source here

Late 19th century/early 20th century portrait of a man. Changshan with collar style 6.

Let’s finish this part with Han women’s collars in the 1890s and 1900s. Around this time Han womenswear began to modernize and become simpler, but that trend did not apply to collars: the collars of Han women’s robes suddenly became unnaturally tall. They were so tall that they touched the wearer’s cheeks and couldn’t be closed at the front at all, kind of resembling Regency era European men’s collars?? This style of collar was oftentimes called 元宝领 yuanbaoling, ingot collar, or 马鞍领 ma’anling, saddle collar, after the object it resembles. Let’s call all of these tall collars that touch the wearer’s face collar style 7, but bear in mind these had a lot of variations.

Source here

Photograph from the 1900s. This could be categorized as a cursed variation of collar style 6 judging from how it only has one pankou and a tapering edge instead of a rectangular edge. But like, belle époque Chinese collars are a whole other species, so let’s comfortably call it collar style 7.

Source here

More collar style 7 representation. This collar style will never stop being funny to me, like just look at it it’s so tall.

So, in summary:

Collar style 1: OG Ming Dynasty standing collar, in fashion from the 16th to mid 18th century. Tall, unstiffened, rectangular edges. Closed with two zimukou. Could have piping (17th & early 18th century). Could be worn with top bit folded over (16th & early 17th century). Worn by Han women.

Collar style 2: developed from collar style 1, popularized in the late 18th century. Medium height, unstiffened, rectangular edges. Closed with two pankou/other fabric buttons. Commonly has binding, piping or trim. Worn by Han women in the late 18th century, partially adopted by Manchu women in the late 19th century.

Collar style 3: developed from collar style 2, exclusive to the 19th century. Extremely short, unstiffened, rectangular edges. Closed with one pankou. Commonly has binding, piping or trim. Worn by Han women.

Collar style 4: collar style 2 but simpler, appeared in the late 17th/early 18th century. Tall, unstiffened, rectangular edges. Closed with two pankou. Commonly plain. Worn by Manchu & Han men.

Collar style 5: detachable standing collar, a staple of official’s uniforms throughout the Qing Dynasty. Medium height, unstiffened, rectangular/rounded edges. Buttoned from the inside. Always plain. Worn by all officials (exclusively men in this era).

Collar style 6: civilian men’s collar characterized by v shape gap at the front, I don’t know when it first appeared, some point in the Qing Dynasty. Tall, unstiffened, rounded and dramatically tapering edges. Closed by one pankou. Worn by civilian Manchu & Han men.

Collar style 7: cursed belle époque (1890s & 1900s) women’s collars that touched the wearer’s face. Extremely tall, stiffened, both rounded and rectangular edges existed. Closed by one pankou at the bottom but sometimes had more pankou for ornamental purposes. Worn by Han women in this period.

Join me next time as we dive into the Republican era where things get extra complicated.

#hanfu #historic fashion #chinese fashion #chinese history #ming dynasty #qing dynasty #16th century #17th century #18th century #19th century

350 notes · View notes

krissysbookshelf · 8 years ago

Text

Enjoy An Exclusive Sneek Peek of: #famous by Jilly Gagnon!

Rachel likes Kyle. Rachel snaps a photo of Kyle and posts it online. Kyle becomes insta-famous. And what starts out as an innocent photo turns into a whirlwind adventure that forces them both to question whether fame—and love—are worth the price…and changes both of their lives forever.

LEARN MORE

Chapter One

RACHEL

TUESDAY, 4:15 P.M.

Loving your mom can lead to some seriously bad decisions.

I’d agreed to tag along on her quest for face creams mainly out of boredom. But the mall with my mother on a Tuesday afternoon—as though I suddenly believed in the calming effects of retail therapy? We’d been here maybe ten minutes and already I was regretting it.

We were almost at the makeup counter that was our raison de mall when she grabbed a black, fluttery top with laces winding up and down the front.

“Ooh, Rachel, isn’t this nice?” She held it out to me. It looked like batwings in a corset.

“Not my style.” I pushed the shirt away, turning to a rack of oversized sweatshirts in neon-bright colors. Where had she even found that thing?

“No, not for you, for me. I think it’s cool. Edgy. Don’t you?” She held the shirt at arm’s length. One chunk of frizzy hair fell from behind her ear onto her cheek. She always cut it too short; at that length, hair as electrical-socket nutso as ours would not be contained behind mere ears.

“Sure, Mom.” I’d be pretty shocked to see my mom commit to a shirt she had to lace herself into. Usually her style tended toward neutral-colored sacks, but if she really wanted to dress like a vampire, I wasn’t going to tell her no. Besides, it’s kind of awesome when parents try to be cool, like watching a baby sloth play the piano or something. Terrible on the execution, and therefore adorable.

“Hey, do you care if I go get something at the food court? I went straight to ceramics club after sixth period, so I didn’t have a chance to get a snack.” Things would move a lot faster if she didn’t have me to bounce awful fashion ideas off of.

She glanced at her watch. “Meet me back here in fifteen minutes. I don’t want to spend the whole evening at the mall.”

“Sure,” I said over my shoulder.

“And don’t be drinking one of those gallon-sized sodas,” she said. “They’re poison.”

Mom was always finding some new threat to my precious development. Too late: I’d topped out at five foot three years ago.

I felt my phone buzz against my hip bone as I passed by Banana Republic, its faceless, elongated mannequins watching disdainfully as I rounded the Wet Seal, following the faint scent of tasty greases.

(From MO-MO): Do you have a new draft of Twice Removed ready yet? I don’t think I’ll be able to look at it until the weekend, but we need to be on top of this.

(To MO-MO): No, I had ceramics today. I’ll work on it soon—we still have what, three months until the deadline?

(From MO-MO): There’s no point in putting it off.

Mo must be stressed about something; trying to micromanage someone else was always her go-to when she had too much on her plate. We were applying together to a summer playwriting program with Twice Removed, but the due date for applications was forever away, and I was doing more of the writing regardless—Mo was more into performing, which meant I usually just let her help with edits. There was no point in calling Mo on it though, unless you wanted to intensify her stress-crazies. The best thing was to divert her to whatever she really wanted to talk about, so you wouldn’t start arguing about not-really-the-point.

(To MO-MO): Don’t worry. I’ll send you something by the time you’re able to look at it. Why so busy?

(From MO-MO): Did I ever mention how much I hate Europeans?

(To MO-MO): That’s racist.

(From MO-MO): You can’t be racist against a continent.

(From MO-MO): Trying to absorb the entirety of their pointless history—which is all just wars and oppressing women, BTW—is making my head hurt. I am SO going to fail this test.

Doubtful. Monique never failed anything. We’d been best friends since we were in diapers, and I couldn’t remember her ever even getting a B. In third grade, she made two entire projects for the science fair in case one was better than the other.

(To MO-MO): That’s what you get for taking smart-kid classes EVEN FOR ELECTIVES.

(To MO-MO): Guess how hard my Art II test will be? Oh wait, we don’t have one.

(From MO-MO): I hate you.

(From MO-MO): I take it back. Distract me. If my head explodes I at least want to die laughing.

I looked around for something I could send to Monique. We had this ongoing game where we’d send each other funny pictures on Flit (basically anything that got an out-loud reaction—from snort to guffaw—scored a point, honors system) and the mall was the perfect spot to play. Monique loved unintentional double entendres or grammar mistakes on store signs. I usually sent funny graffiti or dogs in clothes. There’s something about a dog wearing pants that never gets old.

I glanced around as I made my way across the mall to the food court, but nothing jumped out at me. And now that I was getting close enough to really smell all the different kinds of grease in the air, there was no way I’d be able to focus on the game. I was too hungry to hunt down a costumed Pomeranian. Food would have to come first. I spun around slowly, trying to figure out what I was in the mood for.

There was the depressingly beige buffet of breaded meat bits at China House (pass), sushi that was probably fresh off the boat a week ago at Japan EXPRESS (side of food poisoning, please?), Mrs. Butterbun’s Cookie Shoppe (even thinking about putting an inch of frosting on a cookie made my teeth hurt) . . .

That’s when I saw him.

Kyle Bonham.

Instinctively, I ducked my head over my phone and half turned away, so he wouldn’t think I was staring.

I was, obviously—you couldn’t help but stare at Kyle. He was about a thousand miles away from my type—so clean-cut he could be in an ad for drinking enough milk—and still I went fricking googly-eyed whenever I saw him. Extra embarrassing since I had fifth period with him every single day—it was only a matter of time until he caught me drooling.

He was standing behind the register at the Burger Barn, solemnly counting out change for a little girl who couldn’t be more than seven or eight. She had this dreamy, beaming look on her face, like she was so proud to be getting treated like a grown-up, or maybe like she was half in love with him.

You and me both, babe.

He placed a final coin in her palm and straightened up, his shaggy brown hair flopping over his forehead in perfect just-barely-curls. Somehow he looked even hotter here than he did at school. The burnt-orange Burger Barn T-shirt he was wearing made his eyes—a little too far apart on his face, which made them even more beautiful—look greener. He somehow managed to make his pointed paper uniform cap seem jaunty and alluring.

I looked down at myself. I was wearing a shapeless old oxford I’d stolen from my dad’s Goodwill pile. It was so long it made me look like a little kid playing dress-up, and it had clay all over the hem from where my apron hadn’t covered it up. Then of course there were the faded leggings, starting to go baggy at the knees, the Chuck Taylors that had gotten so scuffed over the summer I wasn’t even sure anymore what color they’d started as, and the sloppy side braid that did approximately nothing to contain the bursts of dark-brown frizz I call my hair.

Great look, Rach. No wonder Monique was always asking to give me makeovers. I was a fricking disaster.

Not that it mattered; I was not the kind of girl guys like Kyle Bonham—or really, any guy—paid much attention to. I’d managed to stay pretty much invisible for my entire high school career by hiding out in the art room. Especially to the painfully adorable lacrosse-star seniors who go out of their way to make even eight-year-olds feel special.

An older couple shuffled up to the register, staring perplexedly at the dozen or so variations on meat and cheese the Burger Barn packaged as “specials.” Kyle watched them blankly, looking like someone out of one of those catalogs where everyone is leaning against rustic wooden furniture just “being themselves.”

I should totally send a picture of him to Mo. After all, what could be a better distraction than a perfect-looking boy? Bonus: if I snapped a picture of Kyle I could look at it on my phone whenever. Yes, borderline pathetic, but it’s not like anyone would know but me.

I walked up behind the old woman, trying to look casual by keeping my phone down by my waist.

I tilted the phone up so Kyle’s face was in the frame. He was staring out over the rest of the food court while the older couple worked out their order. I couldn’t believe I was doing this; he was only a few feet away. Even with my flash and sound off, it would be so easy for him to realize what was going on.

But it would be worth it. In fact, this might be my best entry yet. Not like it was hard to find something better than a misplaced apostrophe, but this was gold-star emoji material.

As soon as he turned his head back toward the couple, I could take the picture quick and head over to the Pretzel Hut, like I’d realized I didn’t want anything Burger Barn had on the menu. At least, not on the food menu.

“Well I don’t know, Fred, I don’t think I want triple cheese. Can’t we get regular cheese?”

“Ma’am, if you like, I can substitute the cheese,” Kyle said, smiling easily at the older woman. She seemed startled that he was talking to her. Enough so that she shifted over into my frame right as I was clicking to take the picture.

Well, crap-sandwich. Great photo of old-lady shoulder, Rach.

I shifted my weight onto my left foot, easing over as imperceptibly as I could. Just move your arm, Grandma…

That’s when I saw her, sulking in the line for the Caribou kiosk about twenty feet past the entrance to the food court: Jessie Florenzano.

. . . and her mom, waving cheerily at me like I wasn’t the last person Jessie wanted to see, especially with her mom in tow. Jessie had been embarrassed by her even before our friendship imploded.

Jessie raised an eyebrow as though she could smell what I was doing. I dropped the phone down to my side and waved back. Jessie rolled her eyes and turned her back on me. I could see her whispering sharply to her mom, who smiled apologetically, then turned to Jessie, frowning. There were very few people I’d rather see less than Jessie, anywhere, ever, but I kind of loved that her mom still automatically acted friendly, four years after Jessie had sliced me out of her life.

I turned back. Grandma was laughing and nudging her husband’s arm.

“You know how I love pickles!”

Ew. Not the mental image I needed before eating.

Kyle smiled and tapped at the register. If I moved my arm a couple more inches… but not too far. He couldn’t know what was happening, and Jessie couldn’t guess; it would be way too mortifying. He tapped his fingers on the counter in a rat-a-tat rhythm as the old lady dug through her wallet.

He was perfectly lined up in the frame, the last traces of a smile lingering on his smooth cheeks.

I glanced over at Jessie. She was resolutely pretending I didn’t exist. There was never going to be a better time.

Click.

He looked toward me for a second. Crap, I was totally caught. I could feel my cheeks burning, betraying me. My breath caught somewhere around my sternum and stopped there, trapped.

But then he smiled and turned back to the customer, taking her pile of ones and quarters.

I exhaled, trying not to grin. I cropped the photo, typing in Mo’s Flit handle so she’d see it. This was even better than a German shepherd with a tie.

“It’s Rachel, right?”

I looked up, startled. The old couple had moved away to wait for their order, and Kyle was staring at me expectantly. I checked over my shoulder to make sure he wasn’t talking to someone else. Like the Burger Barn only served Rachels or something? But I was the only person in line.

“Um, yeah.” I felt my face going hot again. “Rachel. That’s me.” Oh god, I sounded like the worst kind of stupid. Quickly, I clicked to make my screen go dark.

He pointed at himself.

“Kyle.”

I just stared, totally incapable of forming words.

“We’re in Creative Writing together? Fifth period?”

As though I hadn’t spent every day of the three weeks since school started thanking all the gods for that fact.

“Right,” I said, trying to sound like a girl who didn’t eye assault him daily. “You sit in the back, right?”

“Yeah! So Jenkins won’t call on me too much. I’m not as good as you are at that stuff.”

“I’m not that good,” I said automatically, looking down at the counter. Someone had made a ketchupy fingerprint to the right of the register. Like a cheeseburger crime scene. I couldn’t believe he knew who I was. The semester had barely started, and I wasn’t even his year. Not only that, he had an opinion about me. A nice one.

“No, you are. That story of yours that Jenkins read yesterday was… well it was really weird, but, like, in a cool way,” he said.

“Oh. Um, thanks.” All my words were melting, puddling around my feet in a big sloppy jumble, too liquid-slippery for me to get a grip on. The story had been about a computer that got a weird virus that convinced the machine it was actually the ghost of Queen Elizabeth I. He’d already summed it up: It was weird. I was weird. I could feel my armpits stinging with sweat.

“Anyway, what can I get you, Rachel from writing class?” he said.

You, shirtless, on a stallion?

“Um… what do you mean?”

“To eat?” He frowned. It made his nose wrinkle upward, like it was tethered to his forehead. I was so flustered about him knowing my name that I’d forgotten where we were—in line, at his job. He was being nice because he worked service. For god’s sake, he flirted with the elderly. Even more blood rushed into my cheeks. If you poked them with a pin they’d probably burst everywhere. Like that scene in The Shining all over the Apple Prairie Mall food court.

“Oh, duh. Sorry, my blood sugar must be really low,” I said. That’s always Monique’s excuse when she gets ditzy or snippy. “I was thinking, um, french fries?”

“Small?”

“No, large,” I said quickly. I was starving. He grinned a little, which reminded me that the girls Kyle Bonham hung out with did not eat large fries. They’d probably cumulatively eaten half an order of fries in the last ten years, which was why they looked like miniature supermodels and I looked like the funny friend. “I like how the large container makes my hands look extra tiny and stunted. It helps me get perspective on life,” I added.

Oh dear god, someone take this shovel away from me so I can stop digging my own fricking grave.

He laughed though, shaking his head slightly. “You’re funny. Okay. One large fry is gonna be four thirty-six.”

I dug in my purse for the money. He counted out my change and went to grab the fries. I could feel my heart rate slowing back to “not having a coronary” speeds.

“There you go,” he said. “I think this is the right size for your hands,” he added, grabbing one of my tiny fingers and playfully lifting the whole arm up in the air.

His touch was like an electric shock tingling up my entire arm. I almost snatched it back; guys don’t usually go around grabbing my hands. Only guys like Kyle—guys who win state sports titles and homecoming king crowns—have the balls to do stuff like that in the first place. I hoped I hadn’t nervous sweated enough to pit out my shirt.

But somehow I managed to keep it together long enough for him to squint back and forth between my hand and the fry box, measuring the two against each other before finally nodding as though I’d passed muster.

“Yup, looks like a fit,” he said.

He dropped my hand. I tried to breathe again.

“HA.” I forced a laugh. Poorly. “I should go. I have to meet up with my mom.” Awesome, Rachel, add to your intrigue by reminding him you hang out with your mother.

“Enjoy the fries, Rachel from writing,” he said, grinning. “See you tomorrow.”

“Sure.” I gulped, nodding too many times, too fast. “See you around.”

I walked away as slowly as I could force myself to, which was just this side of a sprint.

Breathing hard, I plopped onto a bench near the fountain. That had been disastrous.

But at least I’d gotten my picture. That had been the point, right? To flit something goofy to Monique? I finished typing her handle, then—because of course I’m oh-so-witty the minute actual guys have disappeared—I typed in a hashtag.

Send.

Immediately, I felt a little twinge. What if he saw it? He’d know it was me.

But that wouldn’t happen. Kyle didn’t follow me—maybe ten people did. I flitted all the pictures in the game to Monique, I’d been doing it for months; no one had ever noticed them before. I think the most attention any of the pictures ever got was a single non-Mo luv, and that squirrel vest had been AWESOME. Why would anyone suddenly care about this one?

My phone pinged with the sound that meant I had a reflit.

I opened my feed to see what Mo had said.

@attackoftherach_face tonight’s brain food.

The picture I’d flitted was below. That sweet, goofy half grin lingering around his lips was too adorable. So much so that it had made me feel sassy enough to flit:

@Mo_than_you_know I’m digging what they’re serving up at Burger Barn today. #idlikefrieswithTHAT

God, I am such an idiot.

Original post: http://ift.tt/2lzWwqh

from Blogger http://ift.tt/2l0NmQK

#Blogger

0 notes