The Reason Why

Chapter Four

Chapter Four

"Let's buy these," Chris tossed a few bags of chips into the trolley.

"No, no, no." I stacked them back into their original place. "Isn't Snickers, Pringles and Mallows enough for you? You gotta stop eating these junks." I grabbed one of those from inside my trolley, waving it in the air. "You owe me A LOT, Chris."

"Not a big deal. Too bad I left my wallet at my house," he was bending, checking out one of those new flavored bublegums on the lowest rack.

"It's a big deal for me," I snapped, my hands landing on my hips.

"Geez, chill out Kim. I'll pay you later" he said without looking at me, busy exploring down there.

I snorted, rolling my eyes. I was getting impatient waiting for him. He finally stood up, not taking any interest in one of them. That's a relief.

"What do you expect from the King of Junk Food?" he shrugged his shoulders. "Junk foods are the inseparable part of my life." He grinned.

"You're exaggerating." I decided not to pay any attention to him. Instead, I strolled with my trolley towards the salad dressings' shelves.

"I swear, I can't live without them!" He exclaimed behind my back, tailing me wherever I went.

He started to babble, "You know, there was this time when I got grounded for not eating any of those food because I was accused for 'toilet-papering' Mrs. Helen's sycamore tree at John's party. Actually, he was the one who did it. He was unconscious at that time so..."

I sighed, trying to process his voice in my eardrums into a muted hum. Unfortunately, my efforts were fruitless. Secretly, I was thankful to mom that she told us to go together. It seems like going somewhere improved his moods, though he was much noisy and annoying. Now he was rattling about his dead parrot that he accidentally strangled it with his dog's chain. He was five at that time, so he didn't understand that parrots don't need walks like dogs do.

I was busy choosing salad dressings from the shelves. My hands were searching for the right brand, the one that my mom liked the most. Usually she would rant at me if I picked the wrong brand of food and told me to return to the market no matter what to get the correct brand. She have sensitive taste buds that made her a great cook. She really cares about fine precision of ingredients. A little too much or less will make "an enormous difference to change one's life" like she said during her daily food lecture on our dinner table. I was rummaging for the correct label when I realized he stopped talking.That's weird.

I decided to look at him. Honestly, I was a bit shocked when I met his absent gaze.

"What?" I said nervously to him.

He shook his head, "Nothing. I'm just observing your serious expression."

All I could say was, "Oh."

I went back to my business, plunging Mom's preferred label without hesitating any longer. I picked the tomato sauce that sat above the dressing's shelf.

"Kim," Chris opened his mouth.

"Hmm?" I was distracted with the price lists, not looking at him.

"You know, I just noticed something about you."

"What?"

"Uh...It's hard to say it," he fidgeted uneasily in his place.

I could see him rubbing hard the back of his neck. Gosh. Boys are so gorgeous every time they did that. I caught two girls giggling at him from afar. He glanced at them. They fell into a hysterical squeal of "eeekk!", "OMG!!" and stuffs like that. He grins and waved at them. More squealing. So much for being Chris. It seems that he forgot I exists in front of his very nose.