The Peregrine Passage

Chapter Nine: Adam

With Thanksgiving just around the corner, I'm in a complete frenzy at the general store. My mom sent me to pick up all the groceries as a punishment for spontaneously inviting two people over for dinner without telling her. She's looking forward to meeting Hazel and her mom, but two more mouths to feed is apparently a big deal. I believe her exact words were, "They're your guests, you're in charge of feeding them." This was before she redid our dining room table about eight times, trying to make it look perfect for "my special friend", however. Deep down, I know that this is her favorite holiday, too, and she would have done the exact same thing in my place.

I didn't initially understand how grocery shopping could be a punishment, but I now have a newfound respect for Thanksgiving dinner-preppers across America. I've never seen the store this packed or customers this aggressive. I tried to pick up some green beans and a seemingly nice old lady took them right from my hands. I'd understand if they were marshmallows or something, but green beans? I guess we're just going to have Thanksgiving without them this year.

This thought makes me realize that this 'punishment' means that I am in full control over what we have for dinner. I've been given a list, of course, but I still like the power.

I roll the heavy cart down the meat and poultry aisle until I'm met with the greatest challenge of all: finding a turkey. I have no idea what I'm doing, so I go for the biggest one I can find: 15 lbs. I figure that it's better to have too much than not enough.

I really hope Hazel and her mom have a good time on Thursday. I've only met her mom briefly on Halloween and I'm feeling pretty nervous about tonight. Not that it matters what she thinks of me, since we're just friends. Friends. I'm still unsure as to whether or not she would have kissed me, had she not seen that headline. I hadn't even thought about kissing her before that moment. It was like this wave of hormones washed over me and I couldn't control the urge to put my hands into her curly hair. I've been trying to give her some space lately, so she'll feel more comfortable in case she didn't want to kiss me. To be fair, though, I'm failing miserably with the whole space thing. I didn't sit with her for one lunch, and then immediately texted to get food after school and then invited her to Thanksgiving. Lots of space. Great job, Adam.

I can't afford these distracting thoughts right now. I am on a grocery store mission. I check through the list of stuffing ingredients next to make sure I have everything. There's parsley, rosemary, butter, onions, chicken stock, eggs, freshly baked bread that I'm supposed to pick up from Sweet Tooth, and celery. Celery? That can't be right. Gross.

I shoot Hazel a quick text.

Celery...thoughts?

She replies almost instantly.

Blegh.

I take that as a sign to put it back on the shelf and brace myself for the inevitable wrath of my mother that's going to occur when I get home. I'd still rather deal with that than pick up the bread from Sweet Tooth, though. I don't know if I'll ever be able to make direct eye contact with Audrey Merriam again. Maybe she won't be working, but I'm not getting my hopes up.

The checkout line stretches all the way to the back of the store and nearly twenty minutes pass before I'm at the front. I can't help but pick up some extra marshmallows for the sweet potato casserole while I'm killing the time. It may not be universally known as the best Thanksgiving dish, but it's one of my personal favorites. I go ahead and grab a box of graham crackers, too, figuring they'd be perfect to sprinkle on top.

My arms are sore from carrying almost a dozen reusable grocery bags, and I hope nothing is damaged as I thrust them into the bed of my truck. A few cracked eggs never hurt anybody, right? It's officially time to head to the bakery and I groan slightly as I drive Sawyer over and park alongside the curb.