College Ruled

forty-four

44
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"OKAY—ALRIGHT, HOW about this one?" Cami holds up a black Baltimore Ravens jersey, a purple 8 and the name Jackson sprawled across the back. "I think it's perfect."

      "I guess..." I frown.

      It's an attempt, really, to not look as put off as I truly feel. One that fails, if the look the two guys across the aisle send me is any proof. It's a pinched look. A you-don't-belong-in-here look. Which, sure, yeah—I don't. I've never bought sports paraphernalia in my life. But it's a store so... who the fuck cares? I wouldn't be giving them a nasty stare if I found them in the lingerie section in Soma.

      Probably.

     "I still can't believe Dad is a sports guy now," I say ruefully, ignoring the gawkers as I take the shirt from Cami. It's a heavy jersey, a nice quality—I try to picture Dad wearing it and can't. "You're sure he'll love it?"

      "I would say so. Besides—" she shrugs and quickly straightens the rack we were searching in "—did you really have any other ideas?"

Did I have any other ideas? I scoff. Of course I have other ideas.

      "That nice telescope we saw," I say, letting the y'know, if I had 400 more dollars go silent. "Or, oh! What about a shirt that just said, I hate sports. I think he'd—"

      "Mhm, yeah. I'd go with this." She shoves lightly at my shoulder, urging me toward the counter. "Now let's go. We still need to stop by Williams Sonoma for Mom. And I want a pretzel."

∿

The mall is considerably busy considering the sleet outside. December 21st isn't that last minute, in terms of gift buying, but by the bustle and the nervous energy cradled in the Auntie Anne's-scented air, you would think it's Christmas Eve.

Usually, this is around the time my carefully selected presents would arrive at my mother's doorstep. All I would need to do was collect them, wrap them in the most presentable way I can manage, and stick them under the tree. But the past month had proved nearly too much, and I forgot.

That's how Cami found me this morning—spread out on the couch, scrolling through Amazon for gifts I could fast-track, mind completely void of worthy gift ideas. To the mall, she'd said. So, to the mall we went.

So far all I've managed is Dad's new jersey and Cami's, which had been a bit tricky considering she trekked behind me all through Barnes and Noble. I managed to snag a couple of my favorite book series for her while she was in the bathroom. It wasn't my first idea for her, but the sweater she'd wanted was out of stock. And hell, if I can't get my sister a new job or a worthy man, the least I could was give her a new fictional guy to obsess over.

She'll love it. And by her credibility, Dad will love his gift.

All that left was Mom.

     "Okay, this," I snort, holding up a deep, peach-colored dish, "this is perfect for yams. She'll love it."

      Cami rolls her eyes. She swats at the hair that has fallen from her clip, a few face-framing pieces caught in her gold snowman earrings. "Put it away. And don't you dare mention yams when we get home. She's been rearranging the menu for Christmas Eve all week."

      "Oh, please. Me? Make a scene? I would never." I delicately lay the dish back on the clogged shelf and wave off Camilla's next pointed glare. "I won't. I promise. But come on, the only one who ever ate those was Aunt Stella—how stressful is it really to just... not include yams?"