Almost Home

Prologue

Milk, cheese, and Jolly Ranchers.

I repeat my grandma's words in my head over and over as I walk into one of the smallest grocery stores I have ever seen. It also happens to be the only grocery store within a mile from grandma's farm.

I regret wearing wedges.

Taking a yellow basket from the pile, I start walking down the isles in search of the milk.

The other people in the store are all talking together, like they're all best friends. Jeff is talking to Brielle and Senior Frey about his daughter while Penny is screaming to the front of the store to ask if Joe restocked the pickles.

I reach the refrigerator with the different drinks, finding the row of milks. Just as I grab the glass bottle, someone wraps their arms around my waist which causes me to drop the bottle onto the floor out of fear. It shatters everywhere.

"What are you doing?" I shriek, spinning around to face the culprit with glass by our feet.

His mouth is slightly opened as he stares at the glass and milk on the tiled floor. "I am so sorry."

I place my hands on my hips. His light brown, puppy eyes look nervous as he awaits my reaction.

"Is there a reason you wrapped your arms around my waist and scared the hell out of me?" I ask quizzically.

It's kind of hard to be pissed off when he looks so precious, his lip pouted.

He cringes. "You see, I thought you were my friend. It wasn't until you chucked a bottle of milk at my feet that I realized you were a stranger."

I just nod, biting my tongue and glancing at the ground. These are new shoes, too. They're ruined for sure.

"Here," he takes my hand, "at least let me help you."

I carefully step over the shattered glass and spilled milk to follow the boy. He leads us to an 'employees only' door and unlocks it.

"There's probably a first aid kit in here. I'll make sure you don't have any glass stuck in your feet."

It's so odd that he's being so friendly, even though I'm a complete stranger. I also note his accent, a country twang.

I sit down on the chair he points to and wait as he digs through the cabinets. He hums a tune to himself while looking, and I can't help but smile.

"Do you work here?" I ask, seeing no apron like the other cashiers had on.

"Not technically. My parents own the place," he answers. "Oh! Here it is!"

He brings the first aid kit over to where I'm sitting and crouches on the floor. I suck in my breath when he takes my foot in his hand, trying not to burst out in laughter from how ticklish it is.

"Where are you from? Sure is a funny accent you have," he says with a little chuckle.

"New York." I don't comment on how stupid his accent is.

His eyes widen. "Oh! You must be Marlene's granddaughter!"

I nod, finding it a bit strange that such a young boy would call my grandma by her first name. "Yep."

"Gee, she wouldn't stop talking about you. What's your name again?"

"Valerie."

He nods, reminiscing on what my grandma must've told him. "Valerie. Well, hi, Valerie. I'm Will. I like giving my friends hugs."

"Well, hi, Will. I like chucking bottles of milk at boys' feet."