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For as rare as it surely had to be for seven teens and an adult, Connor once again found himself crammed into the old Odyssey with most of the Anderson house residence, this time early on a Saturday morning. He tried not to think about the homework he had to review.
“Dude, are you carsick?” North asked with a kick to his foot.
“Are you homesick?” Kara asked, with no kick.
“Connor is quiet,” Ralph said, defending him very kindly even if the poor kid looked terrified at the prospect of even being in the car. The two hoodies and overcoat didn’t seem to provide enough protection from the outside world.
“He’s probably writing a history essay in his head,” Markus said with a grin.
“I’ve just never been to a thrift store.” To be honest he didn’t quite understand the concept. What did they even have at thrift stores? Amanda resold most everything of his to specialty stores when he no longer needed it, everything else was simply thrown out. People didn’t just give things away, not anything good.
“I think Hank should buy a new microwave,” he continued. “It would be more reliable.”
“It’s actually the other way around with how they build crap these days,” Markus said. “Planned obsolescence is killing the environment. I’m sure we’ll find something good!”
Connor wasn’t so sure; then again Markus cooked for them all most nights and Connor ate his other meals from the lunch line at school.
“Do you need anything?” Markus almost nudged him with an elbow, then—didn’t. Markus was so respectful of his space.
“I have everything I need.” He fetched Markus’ coin and walked it over the back of his knuckles.
“You can get something,” Markus pressed. “Hank owes you for mowing the lawn, right? That’s like ten bucks allowance.”
“Allowance!” Connor laughed, “Yeah, sure!”
Markus didn’t respond. He looked like he regretted mentioning it—or like Connor grew a second head.
They pulled up in front of a large warehouse of a building. Kids piled out and Hank locked the car as Connor watched the assortment of delapidated used furniture outside with a wary eye.
“You really don’t shop at the mall?” Connor eyed Markus’ expensive jacket.
“If you think I was able to find this at the mall I think you misunderstand our money situation,” Markus laughed. “This is Hermés! Well, minus the paint, I added that—”
“Quit bragging and get inside,” Hank scolded, “I’ll look for the microwave.”
The first thing Connor noticed was the smell, which wasn’t as offensive now that he’d lived at Hank’s house for a few weeks (whatever body spray Markus wore completely covered it up, while Leo always smelled like this). The only organization scheme in the store seemed to be…color? Faded blue stuffed toys languished next to a stained blue armchair and a collection of blue denim.
“the trick is to look at the labels,” Markus told him, as the other kids dispersed. “You can find really high quality stuff that might not look like much at first.” He took a vest off a rack and showed Connor what to look for. It was 100% silk, and only priced at two dollars.
“Not that you’re going to a wedding anytime soon. What kind of stuff do you like?”
“I like a lot of things,” Connor said, eager to please but not sure what else to say.
“…I know you like fish!”
“How do you know that?”
“Well, they’re on those socks you always wear!”
“…You notice my socks.”
“Yeah, I…” Markus’ ears turned a little pink. “I—uh—I’m the one that drew that picture of you. With those socks.”
Connor blinked stupidly, though he remembered the picture tucked safely away in his notebook. “You did?”
Markus gave a small nod.
“…No one’s ever drawn me before. Amanda didn’t take a lot of pictures.” Connor bit his lips, then blurted, “You’re really good.”
“That’s it?” Markus laughed breathlessly. “I thought you were gonna punch me in the gut!”
“Why would I?”
“I dunno, it’s—kinda like—well, Leo said—I’m not a stalker, okay?”
“That sounds like something a stalker would say,” Connor said, with a completely straight face, but he had to laugh when he saw how red Markus turned. Markus was usually so cool but for a second he looked like just a regular kid.
“Alright, alright,” Markus laughed, breathlessly, “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. It’s…very old-fashioned. Next time you can draw me to my face instead of behind my back.” Connor messed with some stacked glassware on a shelf. “I didn’t think you even knew who I was then.”
“Oh, you’re kind of hard to miss.”
…And just like that, Markus was the cool confident rebel king all over again. Connor looked at him to see if he was just kidding but Markus was looking right back at him in his gold-flecked jacket. Had he cut his hair recently? He came out of North and Kara’s bathroom yesterday, wearing a tank top and looking particularly…cut….
Markus leaned forward and said, “Loafers.”
“…What?”
“Leather. Tassles. Old man shoes.” He pointed. “Here.” He went to a shelf of dusty shoes and snatched a pair up, peeking at the label. He grinned, then waggled them at Connor. “You gotta try these.”
“Oh—” Connor tried to stop an outward cringe. “I don’t know…”
“So? Think of this as—another flavor of leftovers.”
“Thirty-year-old leftovers!"
"That makes it vintage!"
Markus shooed him backward until something caught Connor’s legs out from under him and he sat hard on an old couch. Connor couldn’t hold back his cringe this time.
Markus grinned. “It’s used, not diseased.”
“It’s a breeding ground for bedbugs...”
“We’ll burn your clothes and dip you in bleach when we get home. Gimme your foot.”
The couch suddenly turned too hot as Markus picked up his foot and unlaced his uniform shoes with their plain black laces. He slipped the shoe off with the grace that he set up chess pieces whenever they played—so perfect and precise.
“The way I see it, if you’re only gonna express yourself in socks, you need real low-tops.” He pulled off the other shoe. “I’d say get some Converse but you need…the classy version.”
He slipped the shoe onto Connor’s foot. It felt like it had been made for him.
“How did you know they’d fit?”
“You left your shoe attached to mine outside the principal’s office, remember?”
“Okay, that’s stalker-y!”
Markus rolled his eyes and slipped on the other one.
Connor’s foot jumped back out immediately. “Oh—there’s something in there!”
Markus frowned. “Really?” He emptied the shoe’s contents into his hand, then closed it so Connor couldn’t see.”
“What is it?”
“It’s nothing.” Markus shrugged. “A dead mouse.”
“What?”
He opened his hand and Connor plucked it out. It was not a mouse, but one of those thin socks they give you at proper shoe stores. Connor pressed his mouth in a line, and threw the sock at Markus who laughed and threw it back before slipping the other shoe on his foot.
“Cuff your chinos and give ‘em a try, Cinderella.”
Connor did so and walked around. They were flashier than anything he could remember wearing. He never even owned a pair of house slippers before.
“Good?” Markus asked.
Connor just grinned. And it didn’t hurt to hold onto them for a little while, just to think about it. As he put his shoes back on, he glanced at the label, just to see.
…Gucci?
No, that couldn’t be right. Probably a knock-off.
*
“Hey, Connor! I found this for you.”
Connor blinked at the CD cases pressed into his hands. “What are these?”
“Uh…CDs?” North frowned at Markus. “Is he always like this?”
“Yeah, pretty much,” Markus said. Connor glared at him but Markus nodded toward Gavin, who immediately dropped a polo shirt into his arms, patterned with hundreds of tiny St. Bernards.
“You need something to wear besides button-ups,” he muttered. “Makes me uptight just lookin’ at you.”
Leo nodded, adding a checkerboard t-shirt to the pile. “It’s sad, really...”
“I can’t afford all this,” Connor managed as Ralph gave him a Detroit Gears cap.
“My god, dude, chill!” North laughed. “It’s a thrift store, you’re not breaking the bank or anything. And if you don’t learn a few Knights of the Black Death albums Hank is gonna throw you out.”
“He will not!” Kara scolded. “I found some running stuff that should fit you, Connor, in case you want to come with Markus and I on runs.”
“You—you two run?” Connor glanced at Markus who was wearing a pair of shorts that showed off the fact that he was indeed a runner.
“Yeah! You two can have fun trying to keep up—Markus will appreciate the company.”
“Hey!” Markus complained, poking her in the side which made Kara squeak and shove him back.
“I really can’t afford this,” Connor said.
“Dude, it’s not that much!” Markus smiled. “Hank’ll pay for it.”
“I shouldn’t. I really should keep my money in savings, so—”
“Fine, you cheapskate!” North rolled her eyes as she took the pile from him. “We’ll buy it for you.”
“Oh—no, no!”
“What, you don’t want it?” Kara asked.
“No, it’s just—what I want is—"
“Alright, time to check out!” Hank returned with a microwave and a button-up covered in bright pink popsicles. Connor stared at it, eyes wide.
“Oh, you like this bad boy?” Hank said, then handed over the shirt. “Take it! Kara can help you take it in.”
“But—But I can’t!”
“Why not? Everyone else is giving you stuff.”
Connor blinked down at the pile of stuff in his arms, the bright colors, the different textures. He squeezed the shoes with their silly decorative tassels.
“I… I don’t need any of this old junk.”
Connor shoved the pile onto a nearby chair and marched out to wait by the car, leaving the gifts from the others and the nice shoes behind. Hopefully it wasn’t too big of a deal for the staff to put everything away. Connor wasn’t sure. Everyone piled out of the thrift store a few minutes later with plastic bags and pointedly talking about other things. Connor wanted to throw up.
Markus watched him like people watched sad movies, playing with that gross old sock he’d found in the shoe.
When they got home, Hank grabbed the shoulder of his shirt before he could get out of the van. “Hold up, kid, I wanna talk to you.”
In spite of the heater Connor felt ice trickle through his body, and they sat there in the front seats until everyone else had left.
Well, except Markus. “I wanna stay,” he said, defiant as always.
“Fine. You keep your mouth shut, I’m talking to Connor.”
Connor would have preferred Markus to go but he didn’t say anything and Markus remained in the back seat, arms folded.
“I’m sorry I offended everyone,” he said, perfectly aware he sounded like a robot.
“Oh, kid.” Hank wiped his face then scratched at his beard. “You know you’re not helping your case much. I’m guessing you didn’t do birthdays with Amanda, huh?”
Connor guessed he probably shouldn’t mention that presents weren’t a thing at all in the Stern household, birthday or otherwise. He just shook his head.
“Unbelievable. The problem is that she’s freakin' sane, of course. What social worker would convict her?”
“I don’t think he got allowance before,” Markus said.
“An allowance is an outdated concept,” Connor said—or repeated, since it was really Amanda’s wording.
“Hey, I said quiet back there!” Hank butted in. “The point is, we can’t expect you to take a gift if you don’t even know how to give yourself one.”
“I bought myself things before,” Connor said, a bit fierce. “I’m not a little kid, I don’t need… presents!”
“…Oh boy. This is gonna be harder than I thought.”
“…What is?”
Hank was reaching in his wallet, and pulled out a hundred dollar bill that he handed to Connor. “You have to spend that on something for you, something you don’t need and don’t hide. Markus can help you. We’re not arguing about this. I know it probably feels like a slippery slope to financial ruin but you gotta figure out how to—love yourself.”
Connor stared at the bill in his hands, then handed it back. “I couldn’t. I don’t take charity.”
“Uh huh.” Hank then pulled a lighter out of his pocket and turned it up to full blast. “You better take it or one hundred dollars of cold hard cash is getting burned.”
“What?”
“Three, two, one.” A flame snapped to life as Hank waved the lighter under the bill.
Connor snatched it away before he could. “Are you crazy?!”
“…You’re the one that grabbed at an open flame,” Markus said, wide eyed as Hank sat there frozen. “That was badass…”
“Well, he took it, at least,” Hank managed, a little shakily. “If you try to save that you’re getting extra chores for a week.”
Connor lifted his chin. “If I must spend this, I’ll go back and buy everything that everyone picked out for me. And those shoes.”
Hank let out a burst of laughter. Connor turned bright red.
“I’m sorry—I’m sorry,” Hank laughed. “I just—I thought it was obvious that my crazy kids already bought that stuff for you?”
“And your crazy foster dad,” Markus added. “We didn’t even spend close to a hundred—you don’t get off that easy!”
Connor stammered. “They did? You—”
Markus dropped a bag on his lap, two heavy weights in the bottom matching the weight of a pair of shoes. Connor let the hundred flutter to the floor.
“This is probably too much for him,” Markus said.
“Yeah, I think you’re right,” Hank agreed. “Baby steps. Okay, tell you what—forget the money, but you and Markus can clean out my closet this weekend, and keep whatever shirts I have from college that fit you.” He picked up the fallen money. “Goodness knows we could always use more groceries. No arguing, I’m serious, you’d be doing me a favor.”
Connor gave up. “Only if it’s a favor.”
“Yeah well, that stuff isn’t favors. What do you say?”
Connor glanced shyly over his shoulder, but couldn’t help smiling, stupid and selfish though it was. “Thank you.”
“You better say thank you to everyone else,” Markus said. “We thought we broke you.”
Connor stepped inside the house and made the rounds with Markus to give everyone his thanks, in a little bit of disbelief as he watched their faces change from concerned to relieved. Even delighted. Leo looked particularly proud of himself that he picked out a checkerboard shirt for the ‘only guy that beat Markus at chess.’
So maybe there was something to giving things away.