Chapter 11: Shopping Like a Family

I guess you can say I’m having a hard time thinking of a prank to get back at Grayson. It’s Friday and I still don’t have an idea. I’ve asked Sandra and Lola for help but all of their suggestions include me kissing Grayson again; so as you can see, they’re no help at all.

I sat at a random table, bored, while Grayson helped Terry and his friends with their homework. Surprisingly, Terry was behaving like an angel. That makes me wonder if Terry just doesn’t like me. Whenever I would try and help him, he’d ignore my presence altogether or disrespect me. I wonder if Grayson threatens him.

The middle school girls aren’t here today because they had a field trip to a pumpkin field for the upcoming holiday: Halloween. Speaking of Halloween, the masquerade party is tomorrow and I’m totally unprepared. I mean, I have my dress and mask and such but I’m not mentally prepared.

My dress doesn’t look good on me. Lola and Sandra look amazing in their dresses while I look like a guy who should be yelling "Toga" while running around in a white sheet (even though my dress is black). I looked at the clock. It’s only 4:30 PM and this shift doesn’t end until 7. The elementary school kids are leaving at 6 o’clock today, though. Or is it 5? I didn’t really pay much attention because I don’t have to deal with them anymore, thankfully.

I decided to go upstairs and rest on the couch. I haven’t been getting much sleep lately; maybe it's because my bed isn’t comfortable enough or maybe it's because I can’t think of a way to get back at Grayson. I’m betting on the latter but either way, I’m exhausted. I stretched out on the couch, huddling towards the back of it. The warmth of the vents settled me. My breathing slowed as I quickly fell asleep.

~~~

“Audrey,” someone whispered.

“Wake her up," another voice muttered.

I heard someone scoff. “No, just leave her here to rot in the dark,” that was definitely Grayson.

“Don’t be mean. She’s a girl,” I think that’s Carson.

“A stupid, obnoxious girl,” and we’re back to Grayson.

“We can’t just leave her here,” give it to Kyle to be the sensible one.

“She’ll probably get hungry and fall down the stairs,” Carson explained.

“How will her hunger cause her to fall down the stairs?” Shane asked.

Carson made a noise that represented the words ‘duh.’ “She’ll go on a rampage for food.”

“There’s food in the employee lounge,” Grayson snapped.

“Untwist your knickers and wake her up,” Kyle muttered.

Grayson snorted. “Why would she want to wake up to my face?”

You’re right on that one. “Just do it!”

“Okay, Nike,” Grayson responded sarcastically. I felt his presence as he hovered over me. I was in the state where I’m conscious but not fully awake. “Wake up!”

I immediately sat up, extending my fist and hitting Grayson in the face accidentally. Who knows if it was an accident or not? I wasn’t conscious. “Ow! You hit like a man!”

The guys laughed as I slowly raised my legs to my chest and rested my head on them. I was dizzy from sitting up so quickly. Carson quickly spoke. “That’s called a hangover, Audrey.”

“What are you talking about, you moron? She’s not even drunk,” Kyle retorted to his brother. “Wait...you’re not drunk, right Audrey?”

“Of course I’m not drunk,” I muttered as I swung my legs over the side of the couch, rubbing my eyes tiredly. I ran my hands through my pony tail and patted down my hair that was standing up messily on my head. I’m glad I didn’t wear makeup or else it’d be smeared everywhere. “What time is it?”

“8:30,” Shane muttered. I became aware of Grayson’s moaning in pain as he sat on the couch beside me, holding his face as if Chuck Norris drop kicked him.

“Why are you guys even here at 8:30?” I asked as I stood up, stretching my limbs. I doubt I’d be able to sleep tonight thanks to that long nap.

Kyle laughed. “Well, funny story- we thought you were a ghost.”

“That’s hilarious,” I dryly replied as I looked up at the boys. I realized that they were armed with a baseball bat and a large ruler.

“Grayson was rushing us out of here. Now that I think about it, he must’ve known that you were sleeping up here and he didn’t want us to find out. Anyway, the moment we were about to leave, we heard a thump. We waited and we heard it again. And then we heard it again,” Kyle began explaining.

“You’re a boring story teller, Kyle. We searched for weapons of mass destruction but came up with only a baseball bat and a measuring stick- so we had to use those. We searched the library for the sound’s source but we came up empty. Shane, the genius that he is, sat on the stairs and told us that the sound was coming from up here. We hesitantly walked up the stairs and saw you lying there like a dead body,” Carson pointed at the couch.

“The thumping was your hand hitting the ground as it repeatedly fell off of the couch and you sluggishly pulled it back up,” Kyle piped.

“And those idiots tried to force me to wake you up!” Grayson complained as he held his face in his hands. “And that resulted in this!”

“You shouldn’t have shouted,” Kyle calmly replied. “If you would have simply tapped her shoulder, she would have woken up but no, Mr. Yell-y Pants likes to shout at everything because he’s angry.”

“I’m not angry,” he snapped. “I’m just upset.”

“Why?” Shane asked stupidly. It went silent and the tension was obvious. As if catching on, he nodded slowly. “Oh.”

“Way to make me feel out of loop," I muttered and Carson winked at me. It wasn’t a flirty wink. It was more of a ‘good-acting’ wink. I suddenly wondered if Carson would tell my secrets if I told him anything because it doesn’t seem like he has a problem telling Grayson, his longtime friend’s business.

“You were never in the loop,” Grayson angrily spat.

I turned and glared at him. “In the words of Kyle, untwist your knickers.”

He narrowed his eyes at me, or his one good eye, at me. “You heard that?”

I nodded with a smirk. “Sorry about the punch, by the way; I totally didn’t mean that.”

Grayson’s lips parted slightly as he stared at me in shock. He obviously didn’t think I’d resort to violence…he’s in for a surprise. “I’ve got to go now, thank you for waking me up.”

“Ciao!” Carson shouted as I walked towards the stairs.

I let out a laugh and I saw something fly past my face and fall down the stairs. It was a couch pillow. I turned abruptly and noticed Grayson clutching another pillow in his hand. “You could’ve killed me! It could’ve hit me and I would’ve fallen down the stairs!”

“Don’t overreact, you were holding the railing,” Grayson scoffed.

I narrowed my eyes at him. “That’s the second time you threw something at me, Grayson.”

He smirked. “You’re lucky I don’t always throw things at you whenever you annoy me, because you’d constantly be hit by flying objects.”

I turned to my side and saw the reference shelf and lifted the largest encyclopedia I could wrap my hands around. Kyle placed a hand out as if trying to calm me. “Audrey…think about this first.”

I narrowed my eyes at him and he dropped his hand and took a step back. Grayson smirked and took a few steps forward. “Take your best shot.”

I took a step forward and lifted the book up, letting it fall to the floor. Or should I say; fall to Grayson’s feet. He let out a whimper as the large book slammed down on his toes, the sound bouncing off of the old library walls. His eyes narrowed in anger and he curled his hands into fists. I noticed his jaw clenching and I smirked in satisfaction. “I’ll be going now.”

“Thanks for getting him angry, Audrey!” Shane called out as I walked down the stairs.

I laughed. “He was already angry.”

~~~

I woke up to my phone’s shrill ringing. I changed the ring-tone multiple times but this time, I just kept the original tone, which I find very annoying. Remind me to change it later. I sighed as I sat up, tired and not wanting to go to school. Then it clicked, today is Saturday! Why is someone calling me at 9:27 in the morning?

I quickly answered the phone, pressing it to my ear. “Hello?”

“Get up, we’re going shopping,” before I could protest and ask who the caller was, the person hung up. Why did a stranger call me to go shopping with them? I sat in my bed for a minute when my phone vibrated against my bedside table, where I’d placed it seconds ago. I lifted it and read the text quickly.

'It’s Grayson, idiot,’ since he was a contact in my phone already, his name flashed across the screen prior to the call.

Ignoring the insult, I placed the phone back down as I rubbed my eyes. I walked over to my closet groggily. I looked out the window and saw leaves coating the ground, blowing around aimlessly. I groaned again and turned back to my closet. Can Grayson chose a better day to go shopping? I have so much to do today, not only do I have to shop for food with this idiot; I have to go to the masquerade party with Lola and Sandra.

I grabbed a pair of black skinny jeans and a gray shirt with a glittered cross on it. It’s not as girly as it sounds, I promise. I walked into the bathroom and quickly showered. I brushed my teeth and got dressed, exiting the bathroom to hear my phone ringing. I sighed and walked over to it, answering it tiredly. “Yes?”

“I’m outside,” Grayson’s bored voice responded.

I rolled my eyes. “Well you’re going to have to wait because I have to do my hair and put my shoes on. What’s the rush anyway?”

“I don’t know, maybe it’s the fact that we have work in 2 hours.” He replied and I groaned. I totally forgot about work. Add that to my load of things to do today, too. “Tell me about it.”

“The longer you rant, the longer it’ll take me to leave the house,” I muttered and quickly hung up, walking over to my dresser. I grabbed a pair of socks and slipped them on my feet. I danced, literally, over to my closet and grabbed my black ankle boots. I yanked them on and shrugged into my black sweater. I frowned at my lack of color. Shrugging, I pulled my damp hair into a messy bun. I’m definitely going to get a cold today.

~~~

I bounded out of my house after collecting my phone and money. I also told my parents that I’d be home shortly even though they probably ignored me. Just like me, my parents are zombies in the early morning. And to us, ten o’clock is early morning. Well, for my father anyway. My mother gets up at 6 in order to get to work on time. I say it’s absurd even though I get up at the same time on school days. But I have to be at school by 7:15 AM and she doesn’t have to be at work until 8:00 AM; she leaves at 7:15.

“Finally,” Grayson muttered once I got into the warm car. I turned and glared at him.

“You call me twenty minutes ago and tell me we’re going shopping for the food today. I assumed that we’d, I don’t know, plan out what we’re going to make before going shopping for ingredients,” I retorted and he gave me a flat look.

“Well, let’s decide now," he snapped as I sat back in the seat, letting the warm air hit me. “What can you make?”

I closed my eyes and pressed my hands over my eyes. “I can make cereal, pasta, and macaroni and cheese.”

He groaned. “Are you serious? What kind of girl are you?”

“Don’t be sexist,” I barked and he narrowed his eyes at me. “Not all women cook, you idiot.”

“What else do they do? They don’t work!” he snapped. I gave him a glare and he quickly shut up. He clenched his teeth before continuing. “What about lasagna?”

I offered him a flat look. “What about it?”

He sighed. “Can you make it?”

“Did you hear the word ‘lasagna’ on my long list of things I can make? No, I didn’t think so,” I sarcastically responded.

He rested his head against his steering wheel and I turned to look at him, suddenly curious. “Whose car is this?”

“My father’s,” he replied as he placed his hands on the steering wheel beside his head. “How else would we get the groceries back to your house?”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, my house?” I asked curiously.

He nodded as he sat up. “Yes, your house. Your mother agreed to let us store and make the food there.”

I smirked. “Okay, since the groceries are going to be at my place… then you’re paying.”

He shook his head. “No, we’re going half and half.”

“And where is my half coming from? Women don’t work,” I tapped my chin, holding back a smirk.

He glared at me. “I work with you!”

“Then that means you can afford it, now let’s get going, I have a feeling we’re going to take a while,” I replied as I sat back in my seat.

~~~

“What is in lasagna?” he asked me and I shrugged. “Don’t you take notice whenever your parents make it?”

“No, do you?” I replied. He shook his head.

“I’ll look it up. Hopefully, nobody is allergic to anything in the ingredients,” I muttered dully as I began searching the web. “Oh, this sounds promising: World’s Best Lasagna.”

“What are the ingredients?” he asked impatiently as he leaned on the carriage. We slowly walked down the aisles. “This recipe makes 35 servings.”

“Okay, read it,” he urged.

“Okay, we need about three pounds of sweet Italian sausage,” I listed as we walked towards the meat section. “While we’re here, we also need two and 1/4 pounds of lean ground beef.”

“How am I supposed to measure that?” he asked me.

“Just get three packages,” I stated as if it was obvious.

“Of which one?!” he exclaimed.

“Just get three packages of lean ground beef!” I demanded and he picked them up and dropped them into the carriage. So far so good. “Now we need to go my least favorite section; The vegetable section.”

“Figures,” he muttered, earning glare from me. We were silent as we rolled the cart in the direction of the veggies. “What do we need?”

“Onions and garlic,” I replied as I stared at the list on my phone.

“Garlic is a vegetable?” he asked me.

I shrugged. “I guess,” he sighed.

“Well how much of each?” he asked and I shrugged again, squinting at the screen.

“Well, we need 1-1/3 cups and 1 tablespoon minced onion and 5-3/4 cloves garlic, crushed,” I replied and he sighed before grabbing the smallest amounts available. “Yeah, that should do.”

“Did I ask?” he snapped and I glared at him.

“We need to go to the canned vegetable section,” I informed him as I followed him slowly. When we arrived, I began listing off what we need. “We need 2 and 3/4, 28 ounce cans of crushed tomatoes; 5 and 3/4, 6 ounce cans of tomato paste; and 5 and 3/4, 6.5 ounce cans of canned tomato sauce.”

“Can you estimate? Because I highly doubt we can just cut a can in half and take three fourths of it,” he snapped and I glared at his muscular back. Smooth, Audrey, really smooth.

“We need three 28 ounce cans of crushed tomatoes, six 6 ounce cans of tomato paste, and six 6.5 ounce cans of canned tomato sauce,” I slowly informed him, looking up occasionally to see him waiting for further instruction.

He shoveled the ingredients into the carriage while I read down the list. “Well?”

“Most of this stuff we have at our houses,” I stated, preoccupied.

“Don’t we have to buy everything?” he asked and I narrowed my eyes at him.

“You’re buying it so I’d like to make things a bit less expensive,” I muttered as I glanced back down at my phone, scrolling past the items I already had at home. I guess looking at the fridge for 89% of your day really does help while shopping.

“Awe, you care about me,” Grayson obnoxiously stated, obviously being sarcastic. I scoffed.

“You know what? Let’s go buy some water, shall we?” I glared at him and he rolled his eyes. “We need to go to the seasoning isle.”

When we reached the seasoning isle, it was completely empty, which was good considering a lot of crouching and squinting was about to take place. And probably a lot of yelling; that tends to happen when me and Grayson are in the same place. “We’ll need dried basil leaves, fennel seeds, Italian seasoning, salt, ground black pepper, and chopped fresh parsley.”

He glared at me. “Slow down.”

I repeated them slowly, watching as he bent over to read several bottles of the seasonings. I enjoyed the view, not of his derriere swinging around in the air, but of him struggling to read the small font and running his hand through his hair. I guess I enjoyed seeing him frustrated, especially when I was the cause of it. “They don’t have chopped fresh parsley so they’re going to have to deal with plain old parsley.”

I shrugged. “I doubt it’ll make a difference. Anyway, we’re almost finished. We need to go to the pasta area.”

When we got to the pasta area, Grayson was complaining about his back aching. “Stop complaining.”

“Why don’t we switch jobs?” he offered and I rolled my eyes but handed him my phone anyway. I hope he doesn’t look through it. I deleted my messages with Carson but a picture of me in my dress and masquerade mask was still in my outbox. I had sent it to Lola and Sandra so they could see how terrible I looked. I was frowning in the picture, too.

“We need 34 lasagna noodles,” he stated as I searched the shelves for the familiar noodles. Once I spotted them, I stretched to reach them. “Seems like we came up short.”

I glared at him for his stupid pun. He came up beside me and dropped the noodles into the carriage. “What next?”

“Let’s go to the dairy aisle,” he stated and we made our way towards the aisle where ice cream was located. I grinned at the sight of it but we quickly passed it. I noticed how Grayson walked a bit oddly. His legs would extend farther than mine could and he walked slowly but managed to get farther because of his long strides. I was jealous of his height, not that I’d want to be nearly six foot- I’d look odd.

“What do we need?” I asked as we hovered by the cheese section.

“Ricotta cheese,” He listed and I read the lids of the containers as I slowly walked. I found it and lifted it up, placing it neatly into the cart. “Now grab sliced mozzarella cheese and Parmesan cheese. Get the largest packages available.”

I walked a bit further and quickly noticed the cheeses. I tossed them into the carriage casually. “Now we need eggs.”

“How many eggs?” I asked before reaching for the dozen.

“Well, we need three,” he informed me and I sighed before grabbing the half dozen eggs.

“Is that all?” I asked eagerly. I was gripping the carton of eggs.

He shook his head. “Not quite.”

I frowned. “What are we missing?”

“We still have to get drinks and desert," he reminded and I groaned.

“Can’t we just buy donuts for everyone?” I asked.

He laughed. “No, we have to make something. Should we make brownies? Or chocolate chip cookies? Or peanut butter cookies?”

“Some one is allergic to peanut butter,” I stated.

“Then brownies it is,” he told me, searching up brownie recipes on my phone.

“What are you doing? We can just get a box,” I told him and he shook his head.

“We need to do it from scratch,” he told me and I raised an eyebrow. “She emailed it to us along with the allergy sheet.”

“Because everybody makes brownies from scratch,” I sarcastically muttered, earning a surprisingly genuine laugh from him.