4. What Did I Do to Be Like This?

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The Next Day

It's a cloudy Saturday at high noon, making it perfect weather to hunker down in my chair in nothing but a tee, boxers, and a throw, staring out the window at the dusting of fluffy snow. Or what I call the closest that I feel to living a life of utmost luxury. Gumball—

"Chase?"

"...Huh?"

Can't I eat Cinnamon Toast Crunch and collect acorns in peace?

"I forgot something at the store. You want to come or not?"

Why can't people be more prepared? And they wonder why they feel stressed out during the holidays. They can avoid stress if they put a plan together and give themselves time to fulfill their goals.

It's not hard!

"Uh, I guess?"

I throw on clothes from the clean pile, my hoodie, headband over ears because hats are evil, shoes on at the rug. Mom is ready.

"What did you forget?" I ask.

"Tags for the gifts."

"Oh."

At the dinner we'll be going to. We usually go to see Dad's brother and his family for the holidays.

"You know what? I'm just going to go to the dollar store. I'm not going all the way to Krodi's for that."

But, wait! Doesn't Mom want to give the gift of Krodi's?

Mom drives us out to the plaza down the street. There's not much here. The dollar store, a thrift store, our go-to pizza.

"You want to go there or not?" she asks, referring to the thrift store. "I'm not buying you anything."

I like to look at the books.

"Uh, sure."

Not that they're going to have what I like.

The thrift store isn't very large and smells like a vacuum cleaner bin, but everything inside is neat and clean. Clothes, organized by colors. Home goods, organized by room. I like the back. The books are in the back, though I don't see anything interesting. It's all Nancy Drews from someone's attic, a few fantasies from the library, other stuff I don't like.

I don't even see Chloe Wishmere. I love her. I was reading that one.

"Boo."

Mom is by the clothes. I slip down my aisles. I don't need anything. High school sports shirts and chipping graphic tees aren't me.

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