Two: In a Catalogue.
“Shopping is really complicated if you are a girl.”
-Helen Salter
Sunday was December second, and it was also the day that my Aunt Sheridan decided to start our Christmas shopping. She had received a Macy's catalogue in the mail, and when I came down for breakfast, she was standing at the kitchen counter in a pink bathrobe, her hair in curlers, sifting through it avidly. Uncle Dillon was perched on a stool at the kitchen table, coffee mug in one hand and newspaper in the other, and neither of them looked up as I clomped down the stairs.
As per usual.
“Dill,” Aunt Sheridan cooed, flipping the magazine around to face her husband, “look at this coffeemaker! It's fifty percent off today, should I buy it?”
I was at the fridge, but I heard Uncle Dillon's groan. I could see it in my head: he had put down his paper, and now he was squeezing the bridge of his nose between two weathered fingers, his head shaking slowly back and forth. I knew this because it happened every morning, since Aunt Sheridan is a full-time bargain hunter who sees fit to buy anything if it's at a discounted price.
“Sheridan,” said my uncle, sternly. “We do not need another coffeemaker. We have, what, six already?”
“Seven,” I mumbled, my eyes flicking to the cabinet where they're stored.
“Oh.” Aunt Sheridan's voice drooped. But when I turned from the fridge, a package of frozen waffles in hand, she smiled at me. You know that smile, she gives it to you all the time. It's the one that you see and think, oh shit, I am screwed.
“Sam, I was thinking of doing some Christmas shopping at the mall today. Do you want to come?”
No, Aunt Sheridan, I do not want to go to the mall, because I might see people I know and they'll laugh and laugh at me for being with my aunt in public.
“Sure, Aunt Sheridan,” I piped, forcing a smile onto my lips. Because I knew it was hard for her sometimes, being the only female creature in the house since my sister moved out. And if I really did see someone from school, there were plenty of clothing racks to hide in.
The mall was hopelessly crowded, but that didn't stop Aunt Sheridan from powering through the masses the way you do when you're trying to get to the food table at your family parties. It was nice, though, because there was Christmas music playing and wreaths and lights hung everywhere and a giant tree at the center of the food court.
I hoped to avoid attracting attention, but that's impossible when my aunt enjoys wearing neon green track suits that are about two sizes too small for her plump stature. And I did see people from school, because of course this is where they all hang out, all the time. I tried to stay out of the way, but I think Carson Myles on the football team saw me, because he was pointing and laughing with all he buddies.
I ducked behind a mannequin so I wouldn't have to see.
We only went to Macy's, because Aunt Sheridan had that catalogue and she was very eager to use it. You hate that store, but I didn't know that then.
“Sam,” Aunt Sheridan called, perusing through the girl's section, “what should we get for Brianna?”
Brianna was my cousin in Montana, the bratty fourteen-year-old who rides horses and hates everyone in the family. We should get her coal, is what I was thinking.
I couldn't respond though, because I suddenly heard a sharp whistle, and the sound of a familiar voice calling my name. “Yo, Windermere!” It was Carson Myles, of course, because I have such damn bad luck that it really couldn't be anyone else. I froze, my hand on the sleeve of a glittering pink sweater.. Don't turn around don't turn around don't you dare turn around—
I turned around. Idiot.
Carson was standing there with his arm around one of those girls you hate, the slutty kind who show off their butts even when it's forty degrees outside, and his usual posse of guys was flanking him. He had this big, ugly grin on his face, and his girlfriend-thing was laughing daintily behind her hand.
“So I guess it's true, eh?” he quipped. “Sammy Windermere does wear girl's clothes!”
And then they were all laughing, laughing at me, and I was reeling back, back, back behind the sweater display, thinking please don't follow me, please.
They didn't follow, but I felt the redness of my face, the hurt in my stomach, the burning behind my eyes. Pathetic.
“Sa-mu-el!” shouted my aunt, in her loud, loud, too loud voice. “Come here!”
I still heard them laughing, but maybe it was in my head, so I stumbled after my aunt's voice, swiping violently at my eyes. She was by the coats, examining several different styles with her beady brown eyes. That catalogue was still clutched between her red nails.
“Which one do you think she'd like better? Black, or brown?”
I glanced over the coats, but they looked the same to me. I don't know why girls make shopping such a big deal, or why it mattered whether a coat was brown or black or hell, periwinkle. And I certainly didn't understand why people got picked on for doing nothing but helping their aunt do her Christmas shopping.
“Sam,” Aunt Sheridan snapped. “Which one?”
I scanned the coats again, and was just about to give an answer when my eyes caught on something over my aunt's left shoulder. It was a raincoat. A bright, terrible yellow raincoat that made me think of you.
“What about that one?” I pointed.
Aunt Sheridan turned. “Of course not that one, that's hideous! You know that Bree hates yellow!”
No, Aunt Sheridan, I don't know that. And I don't see how your limey-puke sweatpants are any better than this.
I shoved my hands into my jean pockets, shrugging. “Whoops, forgot. Brown, I guess. I don't know what I was thinking.”
I didn't know what I was thinking.
I guess I was thinking about you.
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A/N: AHHH I JUST GOT MY CHRISTMAS TREE
AND I'M LIKE ABOUT TO GO DECORATE IT
AND IT'S RAINING
AND MY MOM'S MAKING SOUP
<3
also you guys your comments all made me so happy so thank youuu
