Chapter 67: Austin-Past

"Austin, son, don't forget Miranda's present," my mother called out to me when I was halfway up the Adams' front steps.

It wasn't like she couldn't grab it from the back seat, but I knew better than to make that statement with my father rounding the bed of the truck. He'd backhand me into next week for sassin' my mom.

"Yes, ma'am." My shoulders slumped as I gave in and went to retrieve the bag.

Staring at the mounds of pink tissue that spilled out of the top, and the sparkly polka dots on the paper, I groaned as I took hold of the strings. Sure, Randi was a girl, but there was enough pink on this bag to make Pepto puke. And I wasn't terribly interested in being seen carrying it into my best friend's birthday party. It was bad enough my mom made me get her a doll that she would never play with. I ran as fast as I could back up the steps and into the house to find the first place I could to dump the stupid thing.