On the Prowl : In a Quest to End Boredom, Claudia and Emily Seek Holy Ground--the Mall

Anyone who has ever been to a mall knows what they look like.

Lurking by the pay phones in baggier-than-baggy pants, sprawling across benches, sauntering through the corridors in packs with doughnut-sized earrings jangling--bored teen-agers during the summer are often bored teen-agers at the mall.

While adults marvel at teens’ ability to spend countless hours doing seemingly nothing, many teens, especially younger ones, say there are not many alternatives.

Too young for regular jobs and too old to spend much time around the house, some teens see in the mall what their parents might have seen in a town green or a soda shop: a place to find other teens.

But what do they do all day? An afternoon with Emily Gamboa, 13, and Claudia Alvarez, 12, two Glendale Galleria regulars, offers a glimpse into the life of the teen-age “mall rat.”

Three, four or five days a week--as many times as their parents will allow--the Atwater Village girls walk three blocks to the bus, ride for 10 minutes to their destination and then circle for hours around the floors of the mall.

“People my age, they hardly come here to buy anything,” Emily explains. “They only do that when they’re with their parents.”

Their mission: just to hang out.

After her morning algebra class, Emily has nothing more than an occasional baby-sitting job to keep her occupied. And Claudia, who is not in summer school, is not allowed to go too far from home.

The mall is a safe, nearby, parent-pleasing destination.

“We go just to walk around,” Claudia says. “There’s nothing to do at home.”

The first stop most days is at one of the department stores. More than a place to browse, the girls explain, these stores offer a place to spruce up their all-important Mall Look. Lipstick, blusher and perfume testers provide a smorgasbord of possibilities.

Their Mall Look, however, is not without purpose. A key part of a successful day of hanging out, both girls readily admit, is meeting boys.

“You can meet them by the Sesame Street benches, by the clock or down those main halls,” Claudia says. “If they smile or they wave, we wave back.”

The girls look older than they are and are in no hurry to correct that impression. They wear halter tops and black sandals; Emily wears white jeans, Claudia wears black shorts. Their makeup, from their mascara to their dark, cinnamon-colored lipstick, is carefully applied.

They usually tell people they are 15. “That’s the thing about the Galleria,” Emily says. “Us girls always lie about our age.”

“The guys,” Claudia adds, “usually like girls who look older.”

About the only clue to their real age is a purse they take turns holding: aqua with yellow zippers, it is decorated with two smiling baby frogs and the word “Kerokerokeroppi” in multicolored letters.

As they walk through the mall, assessing young male passersby and searching store after store for inexpensive jewelry, Claudia and Emily blend into a teen-created subculture. The language is subtle: A once-over look from another girl, a leering glance from an undesired boy, a catcall from a sought-after one, the way a group sits on a bench.

By virtue of their tenure at the Galleria, Emily and Claudia are well able to translate the nuances of the scene.

“You see that?” Emily asks, gesturing at two boys who seem to be doing nothing more than walking along an opposite corridor. “He was looking here. There, Claudia, there’s your boyfriend, the one with the hat.”

Claudia balks, immediately deciding that the one with the hat is not one for her: “Nuh-huh, Emily, that’s your boyfriend.”

Two hours into their afternoon, the girls begin to get testy.

As they continue their rounds, with a new mission of finding the perfect pair of black bell-bottoms, Claudia points to a group of girls, poised casually along an upper-floor railing.

“Do you see that girl look at me?” she hisses. “I hate that.”

“I guess you like me,” she taunts the alleged offender.

But indignation and increasing fatigue are quickly forgotten when a group of boys, who regularly wait by the pay phones in hopes of selling tickets to dance parties, stop the girls. The mall, it seems, is also a good place to find out about teen events.

After ignoring several groups of adult shoppers, the main salesman jumps out when Claudia and Emily pass by. “You girls like to party, right?” he asks.

But while the girls say they do, smiling and telling the boys their names, they decline the invitation. Astute shoppers, they say that the $10 tickets are more expensive than usual. They move on to another store.

Although they are beginning to cruise more slowly, because Emily complains that her feet are getting tired, they have not abandoned their search for bell-bottoms. When the boy scene is slow, they say, Emily and Claudia stick with the shops.

As they continue to wind their way around the corridors, the girls explain some of the mall pitfalls. The way some adults treat them, they say, is indicative of how teen-agers in general are badly treated by grown-ups.

Large groups of teens are asked to split up, they say, even if accused of no infraction. And they contend that some adult salespeople refuse to wait on them, even if they might be interested in making a purchase.

Galleria officials, who say their private security guards are instructed to split up large groups of any age, assert that they have no problems with well-behaved teens who hang out at the mall to browse and occasionally buy.

“We encourage people coming to the mall,” says Nicolette Abernathy, the Galleria’s director of marketing. “We would hope that if they come to people-watch, they’ll have a need for a soda.”

But when the girls sift through racks of clothing in hopes of finding something that they might convince their mothers to buy for them, they point to stern-faced store workers who eye them suspiciously.

“Mostly people think teen-agers are little rebels,” Emily complains. “It makes us feel pretty bad, because it’s not all of us that are that way. Maybe some of us are, but they shouldn’t categorize us.”

One pet store, 11 clothing/accessory/toy stores, one restaurant and $24.55 worth of lip pencils, a ring and French fries later, Claudia and Emily are ready to call it a day.

“If no one’s here--no guys are here--it gets boring, and I get sleepy and go home,” Emily says.

Seems the mall ain’t necessarily a cure for the summertime blues.