Begin Again

Eight - Copernicus's POV

"You want to give away all of this?" The woman behind the counter stares dubiously at me, one confetti red eyebrow raised. I nod, pushing the large duffle bag at her. She continues to stare at me, the price gun hanging precariously between her thumb and index finger. "I don't know, sweetheart. Are you sure you're allowed to give all this away? Did your mom say you could?"

"I don't see what that has to do with anything." My voice sounds sour even to my ears, laced with impatience. Clearly it has its effect. She shrugs nonchalantly, reaching into the bag and looking at each item, eventually handing me a twenty dollar bill and the duffel bag. "I don't need the duffel bag either."

She rolls her eyes, grabbing the bag and throwing it underneath the counter, another five dollars tossed into my palm. Grabbing the sparse bills, I can't help but feel a little bit excited, the light weight picking up the heavy weight on my shoulders.

Walking into the parking lot free from a lampshade, three pairs of boots, and a bookshelf full of books gone, I ease into the driver's seat of my Jeep Wrangler, the only thing that my mother did right by me. Olive green, good mileage, only 5,000 miles on her, and almost new. Slapping the seat belt over and clicking it, I sit for a moment, waiting to see if a wave of tiredness would take over.

A minute later, I'm alert, so I carefully back out, taking a back road to avoid any accidents. With one arm hanging out, I ease lazily around loopy roads and through a small trek of forest. Waving at the sparse amount of neighbors back out in the woods, I finally pull up to Wal-Mart, it's Save Money, Live Better slogan plastered across carts and bags, advertisement a la laziness.

Pulling out a cart, I roll my way into the store, heading towards the sports equipment aisle. Peering through the racks, I pick up a navy blue sports bag, tossing it into the soon to be pile. Walking through aisle after aisle, I manage to throw in a flashlight, a map, spring water, and super heavy-duty Glad trash-bags. Popping in a box of hairbands and Bobbie pins, not to mention a good pair of socks and matches, I steer the cart out.

Heading to the checkout, I smile at the cashier and hand over the twenty-five dollars I have, walking out with a surplus of items and a dime left. Stopping at a gumball machine, I look left and right before pushing in the dime, the gumball adding to my good mood.

"Cope?" My face flushes as I hear the familiar voice, its owner a step away. Turning around, I listen to the squeak of wheels against the linoleum, facing her. "Hey, Mauve. What's going on." She stares me down, her wrinkled forehead the only bare part of her. Speckled with piercings and tattoos, she's a walking billboard. It was kind of the reason why we became friends.

"Nothing much. Same ol' shift, same ol' world. Not that I'm complaining. Pretty swanky uniform, huh?" I grin, a little embarrassed for her as a woman sneers at her from behind. She just ignores it though, her newly embellished nose ring enough to keep her grounded. "How's your narcolepsy?" I feel my stomach drop. That was the reason why I didn't like hanging around her too much. "And your tattoo?" I feel my heart drop.

"Fine. And...still permanent." I give out a shaky laugh, a hand hovering warily over my lower back. She grins at this, a gold tooth evident.

"Good! Won't be too easy to get off, Cope!" She winks, jingling a pair of keys in her hand. "Want to go out for drinks later? I'm getting off early. Or do you have something to do?" She wiggles her eyebrows, childish glee across her face.

"Sorry. I actually do have something to do. Project for school's due tomorrow." And I don't drink. Ever. 

She pouts, a hand on her hip. "Well then who's going to...." She looks over my shoulder, her eyes brightening. "Jucey! Wanna go for drinks?" And she's off again, a flash diva free of all responsibility, like Manhattan in heels. I love her for it. Picking up my pace, I work my way around the parking lot, tying the bags and throwing them in the back, in the driver's seat before she can turn around. Backing out, I slap the radio button on before driving, hoping I'd make it more than a couple feet before an episode came on.