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Zoe
They went to a box store. Zoe couldn’t believe they’d driven nearly an hour and had only arrived at a box store. She’d been afraid to ask, but she’d hoped they were heading toward Portland or Augusta, some town with real clothes.
But no.
Was she really going to start at a new school with box store clothes?
Her grandmother must have sensed her discontent. “I’ve got another check coming soon, and then we can go somewhere more exciting. I just wanted to get you the basics today.”
Zoe’s stomach rolled with guilt. They’d already stopped at the world’s oldest church to get money. She didn’t want to have a second shopping trip. Why had the stupid airport lost her stupid bag? All of this could have been avoided.
“This is fine, Gramma. Thank you.” She tried to remain positive as she looked at the offerings.
There was nothing to be positive about. So she gave up and started tossing things into the cart. A package of basic underwear. Two basic sports bras. She didn’t want to take the time to try on box store jeans, so she grabbed two pairs of sweatpants and threw them into the cart. Yes, she was going to wear sweatpants to a new school. It was okay. She was starting to think she wouldn’t be at this new school for very long. She was reaching for a plain T-shirt when Gramma asked, “Honey, are you okay?”
“Yes,” she said quickly, feeling guilty. “I just hate shopping.” This wasn’t a lie. She did hate shopping. Nothing ever fit right, and she often ended up crying in the dressing room. She tried to force a smile. “I think that’s enough clothes. Let’s go get that toothbrush.”
The sincere concern on her grandmother’s face deepened her guilt. “What about socks?”
Oh yeah. Socks. She looked around for a sock rack, found it, and pushed the cart in that direction. Then she tossed a package of nondescript socks into the cart. She turned to look at her grandmother and realized she’d accidentally left her behind. She hurried back.
Gramma grabbed the cart and leaned on it. “You know, we can do better than this.” She glanced distastefully at the sweatpants balled up in the end of the cart. “You can get some real pants.”
When Zoe didn’t respond, Gramma took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have told you about the money thing. I’m sure it seems odd for you because you’re not used to it. But we really didn’t take money from a church. God himself has given us this money so that I, your grandmother, can provide what you, my granddaughter, needs. He delights in providing for us. It’s part of who he is. But if you don’t let me get you what you want, there’s far less delight in that.” She forced eye contact. “Please, Zoe, don’t think about the money and where it came from. Just let me get you what you want.”
How could she tell her grandmother that she didn’t want anything from a cheesy box store? That she was going to get made fun of at school if she showed up in off-brand clothing?
She couldn’t. She couldn’t tell her. She looked around, trying to come up with a lie. Her eyes landed on a hideous sweatshirt. “I kind of like that one.” She pointed with her chin.
Gramma’s face lit up. “Terrific! Let’s go get one of those!”
Zoe grabbed a 2XL off the rack.
“That looks awfully big. Maybe you should try it on.”
Awesome. First she forced her to buy something. Now she was going to micromanage the purchase? Zoe shook her head. “It’s good. I like my clothes baggy.” This wasn’t a lie either. The baggier, the better.
“All right, dear. Let’s go get you some school supplies.”
Zoe suppressed a groan. She couldn’t believe she had gotten herself into this. She was going to have to go to school. In Maine. Small town, Maine. Alone.
