AllFreeNovel
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The house can’t sell. It’s not ready. I’m not ready.
“I don’t have a lot of spare time, so I’m getting things done one by one when I can. First up is cleaning—which, by the way, means your room, too—and then painting, and during all of that, apartment searching.” She looks exhausted just saying her to-do list.
“I think you’re getting ahead of yourself.” I finally pull my backpack off my shoulders and sit at the table. “How about I take over cleaning?”
“I want it donethiscentury.”
“Let me do it on my own time, at my own pace, or else youcan do it on your own time, at your own pace, but with me distracting you and secretly going through everything even after you’ve gone through it, just to double-check.” I stare her down. “It’ll take twice as long and be seven times as annoying.”
She finishes her sandwich, rips a paper towel off the roll, and wipes her mouth. “We’ll do it together. At the same time. At the same pace.” She raises an eyebrow. “Deal?”
“Deal,” I lie.
It doesn’t hurt to do some additional packing, to take the things I know she’ll want me to get rid of because of Logic, but I’ll want to hold on to because Emotions. I’m mature enough to recognize this. I’m just not mature enough to listen to reason, even when I know it’s, well, reasonable.
I deliver a burrito to Corrine for her lunch break at the thrift shop and mentally subtract eight dollars from the total I owe her. Because she’s under eighteen, if she works five hours or more—which she does three times a week, from four o’clock to nine o’clock—she has to get a thirty-minute, unpaid “lunch” break.
The shop, unoriginally named Thrifty, is owned by two twentysomething ladies who occasionally hold fashion shows, charity food drives, and the best BOGO sales this side of the Susquehanna. They even let Nope. film their video for “Wasted Youth Starter Kit” here after-hours. The cheetah-print chaise lounge with mysterious red stain that Kayla serenaded the camera on sold the day she posted the video. There is absolutely no correlation between these two things, but we like to pretend there is.
Corrine is the only person in the shop when I enter. She’s hunched over the checkout counter, her phone bright in front of her face.
“Food!” She rushes around the counter and grabs the bag from my hands.
“You’re welcome.”I yank the bag back, grab my own burrito, and then let her practically eviscerate the bag trying to get to her own pound of tinfoil-wrapped bliss.
“I didn’t say thank you.”
“You should have,” I say, tossing the empty bag on the counter for our trash. “Your mother would be ashamed of your manners.”
“There are worse things she could be ashamed of me for.” She positions herself behind the counter and unwraps her burrito, taking a huge bite.
“Are you the only one here?” I settle behind the counter, pulling up a stool.
“Yeah. Marisa’s son got sick at gymnastics and she had to pick him up.” She shrugs. “It’s been dead, so it’s fine. Plus, I get paid an extra half an hour nowandI get a burrito.”
“What happens if you need an adult for something?”
She pauses. “I guess I wait until she gets back.”
“What if you have your own emergency?”
“Oh my god, Saine, I don’t know.” She swallows. “But now you’re here. You’re eighteen. You’re an adult.”
We stare at each other in silence for a second.
“Or I could call Marisa if I needed to,” she says, taking a huge bite.
“Yes. Smart. I like that better.”
“How’s the documentary? You didn’t need to film or something tonight?” She stares at her burrito like it’s the only thing in this world. I barely even notice the edge to her voice.
“Not tonight. It’s going well, though. It’s not a total trash fire.” Earlier this week, Holden and I took a drive around town while blasting music through the crackling minivan speakers. We pretended it was summer and put our hands out the windows, letting them ride the airwaves. A GoPro captured both of us in our seats while I filmed the point-of-view footage.
“Of course not. You’re brilliant.” She smiles. “It’s due in December, right?”
“Yes, ma’am.” I printed out monthly calendars for November and December, and marked all the milestones I should be hitting by what dates if I want to have this done in time. The clock is ticking.
“Oh good; you have tons of time, then. Even more since you’re not hanging out with us or anything...” She raises an eyebrow. “We missed you. Or, you know, I did. Kayla and Juniper kind of sidelined me.”
