Drowning

Chapter 7: Do You Prefer Purple Grapes or Green Grapes?

R A I N E

I hate going to the grocery store for many reasons, but having to sneak around in it is by far the biggest factor.

When the girls and I decided it was a good idea to break into our local store, we didn't think about the consequences. Since the manager was the one who caught us, he banned us from the place and informed all his employees about it. Lucky for us, he didn't have a picture, so the workers don't know how we look like. But because the manager is always roaming around the aisles to make sure everything is in place, we always have to be sneaky regardless.

I stand in the snack aisle with my hair covering my face and check off the last of whatever was on Mom's crinkly list. The paper gets shoved into my back pocket as I scan the shelves for chips and such. Knowing Candy's sudden cravings for salted pretzels, almost a quarter of the large basket itself is filled with small packets.

I had cursed myself when I came here five minutes ago because now I'd have to deal with the weight of the basket. I needed twenty-five cents to have access to a shopping cart, but I completely forgot to bring a quarter.

Now . . . where is the chocolate?

I can only hope my parents don't give me a lecture on buying all this junk food—nevermind the price printed on the receipt. They used to pay me five dollars each time I'd babysit Candy when we were younger, and I've still got some of the cash stashed somewhere in my room. If it all goes wrong, then I'll just "pay" them back.

After all, we are teenagers. And to top that off, we are teenage girls, so having our favourite snacks at all times is a must.

"You know, I still remember that day you threw the snowball at me,"

I think I just shit my pants.

Or maybe that was just a silent fart.

I turn around and slightly cringe, but not enough so that Aidan doesn't notice. Oh, man, he remembers that? I might as well call a few friends and tell them to start preparing my grave because I am about to die of embarrassment.

"Uh, sorry, I have no idea what you're talking about," I improvise, "I got hit by a car yesterday and lost my memory. So if I were you, I wouldn't waste my time talking to me."

What am I doing?! I'm ruining my own chances of even speaking to him!

"Right," Aidan says, amusement gleaming in his dark eyes. "So I didn't see you at school today, then? I didn't see you drooling when you looked at your phone? It was just some random girl sitting beside me in English, right?"

Why are you not running already, Raine?

"Yes, exactly! You didn't see me at school, and you didn't see me here either . . . What was your name, stranger? You look like a snac—Timothy! Yup, that's it. Is your name Timothy?"

It would be great if I could shut up now.

Aidan's lips break out into a grin as he leans back on the shelf. I shuffle my feet awkwardly, thinking of a million outcomes for this situation. This could end up with me either running away from the manager again because of how distracted I am at this particular moment, or I could grab an avocado and throw it at Aidan's face since his face is usually my target.