My Kind of Crazy - Robin Reul Page 0,49

tissue paper inside, there is a folded sheet of this week’s Shop ’n Save circular. “Sorry, I was out of wrapping paper. I had to improvise.”

“What’s this?”

“It’s just a little something I wanted you to have. I hope you’ll like it.” She has a huge grin and is bouncing on her heels excitedly.

I’ve never had a girl give me a present before, and it takes me by surprise. It feels really personal, like she was actually thinking about me. I gesture toward O’Callaghan and say, “Thanks. I wish I could open it right now, but my boss is totally on the warpath with me. I think his Lucky Charms weren’t magically delicious this morning.” I dunk the mop and slosh it over a spot I missed underneath the lip of the shelves.

She bites at her lip, visibly disappointed, and then shrugs it off. “That’s okay. You can open it later.” She digs her hands in her pockets, rocking back and forth on her heels. “Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot.”

“Have you been avoiding me, Hank?”

I stop mopping. “Why would you say that? I’m standing here talking to you, aren’t I?” I glance at O’Callaghan again. He’s checking me out, so I say in a very loud voice, “Tampons are in aisle twelve, miss. I believe the store brand is on sale.”

Her forehead creases with confusion, so I add under my breath, “My boss. Work with me.”

She gives me a wink and responds in an equally loud voice, “Thank you. I’m having an especially heavy flow this month. Do you carry the super overnight pads with wings? I need extra protection.” And then in a lower voice, she says to me, “Obviously not right this minute. I mean in general. I haven’t seen you all week.”

I say loudly, “Yes, we have many varieties of pads in all shapes and sizes,” then lower my voice and tell her, “No, I’ve just been working a lot. My dad lost his job last week, and his girlfriend bailed, so it’s been kinda crazy…”

Her face crinkles with concern. “That sucks. I’m sorry. When I didn’t see you, I thought maybe you felt weird around me after what happened last Friday. You know, during the fire alarm.”

I wasn’t sure which part she meant: when she admitted to crying over Freeze Frame, when she mentioned she’d been in the hospital, or when we almost kissed. Of course, that last one could have been my imagination.

I don’t get the chance to ask because Mr. O’Callaghan appears beside me, his bushy brow furrowed, his hands on his hips, saying, “Can I help you with something, miss?”

“I was just directing this customer to the feminine products,” I explain, and Peyton nods in agreement.

“Aisle twelve,” he tells her, then glares at me. “Hank, get back on a register. I’ll finish here. Those groceries aren’t going to scan and bag themselves.”

I hand him the mop, and it dribbles dirty water onto his shoes. He jumps out of the way and narrows his eyes at me. I just give him my best “at your service” smile and head back to the front of the store. As I walk away, Peyton asks, “Do you also carry douches in assorted scents? A girl has to feel fresh.” I suppress a laugh as I try to imagine O’Callaghan’s face.

At the registers, there is not a single customer waiting to be rung up. What a tool. I’m dying to look inside the bag, but I stash it under the counter to savor later.

Five minutes later, Peyton is at my register with a big box of tampons, maxi pads, and a bottle of lavender-scented feminine wash. She puts them down at the end of the conveyor belt. I smile cheerfully as I ring her up. “That’s gonna be nineteen dollars and seventy-three cents,” I tell her.

She digs in her front pocket and pulls out eighty-six cents. She frowns. “I’m a little short.”

“Appears so.”

“Hmmm. I guess I’ll have to get these another time. I’ll buy this instead,” she says and grabs a plastic disposable lighter, placing it on the counter next to the credit card machine.

I remove the other items from the conveyor belt, place them in the returns basket, and ring her up. “Should I be selling you this?”

“That’s a burning question, isn’t it?” she replies with a straight face as she shoves her change toward me.

O’Callaghan will be back to check on me any second, but I don’t want her to leave yet. Judging by the past week