Page 88 of I Can't Even Think Straight

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incentive of Obi,

but Sunday on Mum’s market stall is as sacred to me

as going to church is sacred to Matt.

I feel FOMO creeping in

at the thought of saying no to them

and staying with Mum.

I feel annoyed with all three of them

for putting me in this position,

to have to choose between them and Mum.

“We’ll all help to pack up,” says Obi,

grinning at me, pleased with himself,

like he’s single-handedly solved world peace.

I’m amused and no longer annoyed.

Obi’s innocent charm disarms me,

like he’s some sort of Disney prince.

Vass and Jenny nod in agreement.

“That’s sorted, then.”

Mum shoos us away.

“Have a nice time.”

“Righto. Cheerio,” Obi says to Mum.

Her eyes widen in disbelief.

“Cheerio,” Mum repeats. “Actually, hold on, kids!”

She pulls two tens from her money belt.

She hands one to me and another to Vass.

Then two more: one to Jenny and another to Obi.

“Okay, then.” Mum smiles at me mischievously.

“Off you go.”

I’m slow to do the math.

As I walk away with Vass, Jenny, and Obi,

I realize the four of us are sharing the forty pounds

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