The Girl On Aisle 9

• Jennifer Leong, Grade 10
• Short Story
• 2020

It was the week before my 10th birthday when I first met the girl on Aisle 9.
My mother had picked me up after school that day in her little, white sedan; the one that she would only use for important events. It was strange, though it didn’t deter me from the twinge of flimsy joy that had sparked in the depths of my heart, burning through the blood in my veins. It was a baseless joy - I knew what her intentions really were.

We pulled up outside the local supermarket a mere ten minutes later and she had ushered me inside, her thin hands driving my body towards the automatic doors. I could tell by the way they violently shook as she handed me a crumpled sheet of paper and shoved me in the direction of the ‘Grains’ section. I decided against protesting and walked away without looking back, afraid that I’d see those watery eyes and the tremble of her lip that seemed to speak volumes in the careful walls my mother had built up around herself.
I went to gather the groceries that she had written on the shopping list; rice, cornflower and my favourite prawn dumplings that we always bought if they had the large yellow ‘Reduced’ sticker on them. It didn’t take long to find what I needed so I settled on wandering around until my mother was done. Weaving in and out of the aisles, I skipped. In and out. In and out.

I had reached the end of the store.

Aisle 9.

It was certainly the most out-of-place aisle in the supermarket

Aisle 9 housed mirrors. As I walked down it, I watched the girl in the mirrors copy my movements. Her hair was pulled back into a low bun and baby hairs framed her receding hairline. Her eyes looked tired, pools of dark burgundy that seemed to suck the life out of her world.

“Chan!”

My mother’s voice startled me. She started to run from the other end of the store and as she neared, I made out the redness of her cheeks that had seeped from her red eyes. I chose to ignore the tracks of mascara and turned away.

“What?”

She inhaled for a moment before her shoulders relaxed with the exhale. “Let’s go home.”

I took one final look at the girl in the mirror. That was the last time I met the girl on Aisle 9.