Chapter 7

But we’re adults now—if not in action, then in appearance, at least, and none of the sales associates are older than we are, so they don’t step up and ask us to stop. I don’t even notice what time it is until the music playing over the store’s stereo system turns off and the manager pulls down the front gate a little to entice shoppers to hurry up. I grab the bike and its basket full of toys and wheel it down the aisle. “Damn, we still need to check out.”

“Just when I’m getting good at this, too,” Dave mutters, but the truth is, he sucks as hard at the video game as he did when he was a teen. I always could kick his ass playing Super Mario Brothers, even when he made me play Luigi.

“You coming?” I ask, glancing back at him over my shoulder.

He tosses aside the Wii controller. “All right, already. Hold up.”