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can barely breathe in these things.”
    We tugged and tugged at the zipper, but it was totally stuck. I was wishing I had some of that EZ-Zipper wax crayon that Mom kept in the jewelry box on her bureau. “Are these the ones you want?” I whispered, feeling Julie’s breath on my face as we pulled on the zipper and tried to hold back from laughing. It was like when you’re supposed to be quiet ’cause you’re in a church or library or something and you feel a huge attack of the giggles coming on. It was just a miracle no one knocked on the door to see what the fuss was about.
    “Well, are these the ones you want?” I said.
    “I hadn’t decided yet,” she said. “Don’t you think they’re too tight?”
    “Yeah, kinda,” I giggled, “but I don’t think it really matters. Looks like these are the ones you’re going home in!” Then we both started laughing so hard—silently—that tears welled up in Julie’s eyes.
    When we finally calmed down, Julie let out a big sigh and looked totally exasperated. The zipper still hadn’t budged.
    “I can’t believe this,” she said. “Okay, go back to your dressing room and put yours on before somebody notices us.” I went back to my room, stifling my giggles, and I put on my jeans, and then my overalls over them.
    We left any remaining pants on the counter, and the guy didn’t even look at us. He was talking to this mother and daughter. The place was crawling with shoppers.
    Back upstairs at accessories, and dressed in her pants over pants, Julie was walking like a robot and trying to hide her worried look that her new Fiorucci jeans might never come off. My hands were cold and sweaty at the same time. I didn’t know how we were gonna get away with this. But I also kept thinking, We just might . Nobody seemed to be paying too much attention. The plan now was to actually buy something from accessories so we seemed less suspicious. We looked at the earrings. There was this really cool pair that had a little stack of fake pearls wrapped in shiny iridescent pink Saran Wrap-type stuff.
    “Oh, I love these,” I said.
    “Me, too,” Julie said, and I noticed she was glancing at the salesgirl behind the counter to see if she could just drop them in her pocket. They were $5.50. This made me nervous, so I took out my wallet and gave Julie a look. We each bought a pair.
    Okay, we were ready to go, but the salesgirl was taking her time finding little plastic bags to put the earrings into, and I was getting antsy. I could feel my heart starting to thump in my chest. C’mon lady, hurry it up, it’s time to go . I was willing her to hurry up by staring at her.
    “Hey, Carla!” someone shouted to the salesgirl, and I turned around. It was the guy with the spiky green hair from downstairs. Julie and I glanced at each other, then looked at him. He didn’t look at us. He stood there silently for a second waiting for Carla to notice him. Carla was crouched down still looking for plastic bags. I felt the sweat starting to form around my waist where the jeans under my overalls were hugging me.
    Finally, Carla looked up at the guy and said, kind of annoyed, “What?” He threw a package of credit-card slips on her counter and said with a smirk, “Don’t say I never gave you nothing!”
    Ignoring the guy, Carla said, “Here they are!” She pulled out two bags and dropped our earrings in them. “Thanks for waiting,” she mumbled, blowing some hair off her forehead.
    As we got to the exit, Julie suddenly remembered the free Fiorucci posters and stopped at the poster counter.
    “C’mon, Jule,” I said, under my breath. That day’s Fiorucci poster was of two topless women with their backs to the camera and their hands on their hips. One was white, the other black, and both were wearing black leather Fiorucci pants.
    “I don’t have this one,” Julie said as she grabbed two and hurried out the door with me.
    “Have a nice day, ladies!” the poster guy called after