“That would be good,” Mom said, her eyes filled with appreciation.
“Okay, good,” I said. “What time does it start again?”
“I’ll have to check on the computer. Why? Do you have plans today?”
“Yeah, I was going to run some errands, maybe do a little Christmas shopping.”
“Sounds good. I think the Mickey thing starts at seven. If you’re home by five or so, we should have plenty of time, even if we hit traffic.”
“Okay, I’m going to go get ready. You got this?” I laughed, indicating the stacks of cookies still waiting to be bagged up.
“We got it, right, Peanut?” Mom asked Megan. “Besides, we’re going to frost all those over there,” she added, pointing to the Christmas tree shaped cookies on the far counter.
“Maybe when we’re done, we’ll box half of them up and take them to the children’s home.”
“Children’s home?” I asked.
“It’s a place over in Deltona called the Florida United Methodist Children’s Home. I heard about it from Brenda. They help place children with caregivers. I was thinking about volunteering a couple of days a week to get out of the house.”
“I’ve never even heard of it. I thought they did away with orphanages years ago,” I said, grabbing a peanut butter cookie off the counter.
“I think they did in the traditional sense, but I guess the resource need hasn’t changed over the years. Maybe you could come with me sometime,” she said teasingly, obviously thinking about my previous loathing of community service over the years.
“Sure,” I said, leaving her shocked fac
e behind on my way out the door. Lacey and I had bitterly complained about doing volunteer hours when we first started our freshman year, worried it would cut into our hanging out time. Ms. Hanson had found a loophole in the system by finding charity games where the whole squad could work in the concession stand. We accumulated the necessary volunteer hours for our whole high school career by midyear and never looked back.
Volunteering now seemed like a small penance to pay for my previous behavior. Maybe if my dad were watching from heaven, he would finally be proud of me.
I was still in the I should get out of bed, but just a few more minutes won’t kill anyone stage at half past ten the next morning when my phone lit up on the pillow next to me, alerting me to a new text.
Feel like doing some shopping, girl-style?
Does that mean you’re feeling better?
Yep. You game?
What does girl-style shopping mean exactly?
I drag you from one shop to the next looking at everything as I search for the perfect gift only to realize it was in the first store after all.
Errr sounds fun. I texted back teasingly.
I’ll feed you. She enticed, oblivious to the fact that I was all in, the moment she asked if I wanted to go.
Mall food?
Is that wrong?
Heck no. I’m a mall food kind of guy.
Does that mean you’re in?
I guess since you threw food in.
Great text me your address and I’ll swing by and get you in forty minutes J
211 West Lee St. Apt 12. Just text when you get here and I’ll meet you downstairs, I texted, not quite ready to introduce her to my aunt quite yet.