Another invitation. Must be my lucky day. I plopped down in the seat, unpacked my lunch, and started composing a review.Five stars, especially for Harvey…
8
Zack Attack
On my day off, I padded to the kitchen towards the salivating aroma of toast. I hoped we still had waffles. Butter melted so perfectly into those squares. I could probably eat three in one meal, but I’d settle for one and a half so we didn’t have to go grocery shopping for another week.
My mom and aunt were conspiring at the covered table in our cozy kitchen. A large pad of lined notebook paper sat in front of my mother. My aunt’s phone glowed at her elbow with constant updates from their church friend group text chain. Tea bag tags draped over two plain white mug rims. Steeping that much caffeine meant serious business was afoot.
I tugged on my pajama top and waved at them on my way to the fridge. “Hi. Just grabbing breakfast.”Don’t ask, don’t ask…“Do you need anything?”
Curse my customer service instincts. I prayed all my family needed was a top-off on hot water for their tea.
Mom tapped her pen on the pad of paper. “Aunt Coral and I are finishing our Christmas gift list. You get an employee discount at the mall, correct?”
“On some stuff, yeah.” I grabbed a brightly colored plate I’d gotten in a fast food chain promotion for a kids movie ten years ago.
Mom and Aunt Coral stared at me so hard, I feared they’d march to the mall and demand more discounts on my behalf.
I tugged open the freezer, cold air seeping through my thin pajama pants. “Do you want me to pick some stuff up on my next shift?”
“You have to go today.” Mom came over to grab an ice cube for her tea and pinched an exposed bit of my side. “You’re outgrowing these pajamas. I’ll add a new set to the list and look into donations.”
Stretching my shirt down, I shuffled aside. “These are fine. But can the big shopping trip wait until tomorrow when I’ll be there anyway?” Today was waffles and laundry day.
She speared the air with her ice cube. “What about the little cousins’ toys? They’ll sell out fast.”
“Would one day make that much difference? I’d feel weird going in and not helping on a busy shift,” I said.
Aunt Coral sipped her tea. “If it’s busy, they won’t even notice you’re there.”
Mom dropped the ice cube into her mug. “It’s a temporary job, anyway. Might as well make use of it until you get a real one.”
Ouch.
What I did still mattered.
I braced myself from the freezer chill and delicately shifted portioned meals in the search of my sunshine yellow waffle box. “I guess. But my car’s been acting up and–”
“Zack can take you.” Aunt Coral twisted in her chair. “Zack!”
I flinched.
Her voice could pierce through multiple walls–and my eardrums. She softened it for the choir and nothing else. Aunt Coral folded her hands in her lap. “I had him shovel our driveways.”
I smiled and nodded. Living so close to them was always a bit of a blessing and a curse.
The front door burst open, ushering in a biting breeze. I crossed my arms for modesty and warmth, then shoved the freezer shut with my hip, though my tummy still grumbled for the comforts of a waffle.
My cousin Zack stomped toward the living room, brushing the snow from his baggy pants onto the tiled entryway. He was like a robot: all squared edges and tough guy reflexes. “What?” he asked.
Aunt Coral folded her hands into her lap. “You’re taking your cousin to the mall for Christmas shopping.”
He wiped his forehead. “Why can’t she go by herself?”
I rubbed my bumpy arms. “I can, I just–”
“She’ll need help carrying the bags and you’re a gentleman.” Aunt Coral narrowed her eyes, daring her son to contradict her.
