Chapter 12
I hated being at the mall on Saturday afternoons.
Growing up, my mother had dragged me there every weekend, bribing me with a promise of bubble gum ice cream and a visit to the pet shop. Bored out of my mind, I’d follow her around for hours, from store to store, sweating under my coat, which I refused to take off because I was overweight back then and didn’t want people to notice me, and all afternoon, I’d sit on benches or under shoe displays, getting grumpier by the hour. Until finally my mother would tire herself out or go over her spending budget—whichever came first—and then exhausted, we’d sit by this indoor fountain I was now staring at, where side by side, we’d lick our ice cream cones with a dazed expression.
Probably the same one I had on my face right now.
Twelve
