“I’ll be with you in a second,” he calls out with a sigh,rushing to follow a family with young kids who just entered the store.
I turn back to the crate resembling a large planter box, filled with musty clothes and other people’s memories. A pale purple bag at the very bottom is the only option, but it looks like it belongs to Dora the Explorer and wouldn’t hold more than my snacks and bug repellent for the first day.
I lean over, spotting another butter-yellow backpack sitting behind the crate, this one much more fitting. “Hello there, pretty girl.” I smile, dusting off my find.
“Oh, you’ll do.” I nod, holding it up and loving the sunny color.
Chaos has erupted by the time I reenter the store, as the kids smush their faces to every surface of glass, one of them wearing a huge men’s hoodie with the hanger still inside. The store attendant raises a frantic hand my way. “Don’t worry about paying. You can have it.” He flutters his hands, trying to herd the kids back to their unfazed parents.
“Thank you!” My voice barely reaches him over the sound of squealing, although I’m tempted to make a similar sound at my turn of good fortune. I do love a good thrift.
I’m caressing my new-to-me bag on my way back to my room when the shuffle of footsteps follows behind me, a tingle running up my spine when I recognize the feeling of being followed. But when I spin around, I find myself virtually alone, the nearest person on the opposite side of the road, heading in a different direction.
Is my dad here? Has he sent one of my cousins to shadow me?
I turn, laughing at the ridiculous thought of him trailing me. My dad doesn’t know I’m here, and none of my cousins would believe I’d do this anyway. I’m obviously not being followed.
Still, I walk a little faster on the way back to my lodge.
As soon as I get to the relative safety of my room, I sink onto the mattress, running my fingers over the soft fabric of the feather-light backpack. She’s definitely been broken in, but not so overused that the sun has gotten its bleachy claws into her yet.
And this sublime shade of gold—she’s absolute perfection.
It might seem trivial, but when you’ve seen the power of color to awaken someone’s face more than a cup of coffee or Botox ever will, the right hues become vital.
Yes, I probably should’ve spent more time researching the best supplies rather than looking for a hat in the right shade of yellow. It probably wasn’t wise of me to neglect the practicality of the reviews I read, focusing instead on picking out colors that harmonize with my Spring palette.
Losing Bertha isn’t just about losing a bag. It feels like I’ve lost a bit of what I’m out here fighting for.
The color of that bag was a tether to my dreams.
Aesthetically, my shoes are also a disappointment, so I couldn’t continue this endeavor with a sepia monstrosity on my back. Even though sand or camel is technically in my palette, it’s become the symbol of everything I’ve failed to measure up to in my family. So I avoid it, even if it looks good on me.
I prefer bright colors. I need to feel like a spring garden has erupted, wrapping me in its vibrant magic and making my skin glow and my soul dance.
That’s the power of the right color.
What could possibly go wrong with a sunny backpack like this?
CHAPTER SIX
“Please don’t let me down.” I pat the new bag encouragingly while I wait for Hayley to answer my FaceTime call.
“Meet any hot guys yet?” She wiggles her brows as a way of greeting.
“Well…”
“YOU TOTALLY DID! See! I told you you’re gonna meet a stud muffin out there.”
“Okay, calm down, Cupid. The hot man was rather grumpy and very suspicious of me, so I’ll be appreciating him from afar if we cross paths again.” The words feel bitter coming out of my mouth, because I’d find it hard not to try my best to get a rise out of Jack if I saw him again. I pick up a shirt, fold it, and begin repacking.
“But think of all the fun you could have!”
Oh, don’t I know it. That’s the problem.I don’t need the distraction.
“How’s big G?” I ask, redirecting Hayley’s inquisition. She leans out of frame to pick up Giorgio and hold him in front of the camera.
“Are you being a good boy for Aunt Hayley?” I croon in the sugary sweet voice that I only reserve for Giorgio, and he yips excitedly. “Of course you’re a good boy.”
