Page 60 of Run Away Home: Tempered

“So about those Brussels sprouts...”

“Pick another vegetable in its place, then.”

I unbuckle my seat belt and pat my pocket. It’s empty. Where’s my wallet? I open the center console and dig through a mess of pens, receipts, change, and other miscellaneous crap. I really have to organize this whenever I find the time. It’s driving me wild. I’m never this disorganized!

“Okay, French fries—a good brand, though. Not the cheap store brand. Those never get crispy, especially when Hayley makes them. They’re either soggy or they burn. Okay, Peter? Peter?”

“Yes. What?” I open the car door and step outside. I move the driver seat all the way back and squat, reaching around underneath it. I don’t feel anything but dirt and trash. Why do I keep the apartment so clean, and the car so...not clean? I sigh. I’m aggravated with myself. I need to find some time to clean out this car!

“Good. You said yes, so it’s yes.” Danny opens his door and springs out. I hear the door slam.

What did I say yes to again? Oh yeah, French fries. Not the cheap kind.

“Fine, you can get French fries, but a vegetable too.” I look up and out through the passenger side window. He’s not within sight anymore.

“French fries are a vegetable. Do you know what they’re made out of? Potatoes.” I hear his voice coming from behind me. I jump. “What are you even doing, Peter? Why are you on the ground?”

I turn around, look up at him, and stand. He’s holding my wallet.

“I was looking for my wallet! Why do you have it? Give it to me!”

I pull it out of his hand and shake my head, closing the car door.

“It was on the floor by my feet, so I picked it up. Oh, yeah, and your phone.” He hands me that too. “Rest of the list looks okay, but I’m going to need to add some things.”

“Some things? I’ll see.” We start walking. I grab a cart near the entrance.

“Yeah. Like pizza bagels.”

“Fine.”

“And gummy bears.”

“Gummy bears? No.”

The automatic doors open, and I push the cart inside. He follows close behind me.

“Why not? They’re not that bad for you!”

“I don’t have that much money.” I check to see if anyone is within earshot. “We already used most of our food stamps for the month. I can’t spend any more than I absolutely need to.”

“Put it on a credit card,” he says nonchalantly.

“Listen to me,” I whisper sternly, and we stop walking. He looks me directly in the eyes. “I am not putting gummy bears on a credit card. This is why I never let you come with me to the store.”

“They’re literally like two dollars, Peter!” He whines, pouts, and throws his hands down to his sides.

“And French fries are four dollars, and pizza bagels are three dollars—”

“How would you know? We didn’t even get to the frozen section yet!”

I don’t respond to him. I just keep walking. He keeps going and going.

“Also, all together, four and three and two, that’s what? Nine dollars? Wow! Nine whole dollars! Gee golly whiz, what are we going to do? How will we ever survive? We might have to boil water for our baths because we won’t be able to afford electricity!”

What the hell is he talking about? I walk past the bakery. He trails close behind me, still rambling off nonsense.

“We’ll have to knit our own clothing. I hope you know how to sew! All because of those nine dollars we spent on gummy bears, and French fries, and pizza bagels. We’ll have to light candles, and catch squirrels, and cook them over the candles for food. That will takesolong, cooking a squirrel over a candle. Hmm... It’s too bad you spent nine dollars on groceries.”

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