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“I thought we were shopping for a new pair of shoes.”
“There are shoes here.” Claire holds up a pair that are tall, bright green, and sparkly. Jack enjoys the sparkle, but he doesn’t think the shoes are a good choice. Sam and Dean don’t wear this color, even when they’re not hunting.
“Relax,” says Claire. “I’m just joking. But you should totally try these on.”
Jack’s feet are too big, but he manages to fit his toes in. The shoes have a platform under the sole that make him feel wobbly, so when Claire points to the mirror, he has to lean on her arms to shuffle over to it. Claire is laughing, and Jack laughs because she’s laughing, and then he looks in the mirror and laughs again because the color and the shape and the sparkle of the shoes aren’t in harmony with the other things he is wearing. Jack feels in harmony with Claire, because they are both laughing about disharmony. He likes that.
Claire helps him take off the sparkly shoes, and Jack looks around while she puts them back on the shelf. The store isn’t very harmonious. There are so many things in it that it seems impossible to keep it neat. The shelves are crowded. The clothes are hanging on hangers, but they’re all pressed close together so it’s hard to see them.
“Where are the shoes in my size?” asks Jack.
“Okay, we’re not here for shoes,” says Claire. “We’ll get the shoes later. We’re here to go treasure hunting.”
“Treasure hunting?”
“Yeah. Sam and Dean dress you like you’re the blandest ever catalog model and they probably don’t even let you own anything besides, like, a gun.”
“I don’t own a gun.”
“Case in point. And the point is that you should have the chance to choose things for yourself, without those weirdos breathing down your neck.”
“Okay,” says Jack. He likes this idea of choosing things, with Claire.
Claire smiles, just a little smile, like she’s trying not to. “Okay,” she says.
“What should I choose?”
“So, a thrift store is the perfect place to find something interesting, because it’s full of stuff that other people got rid of. But just because someone didn’t want something doesn’t mean it’s not good. Sometimes it’s cool. It’s not stuff you can get at a shopping mall or something.”
Jack nods. He doesn’t know anything about shopping malls.
“But it’s kind of like looking for treasure. You have to really look or you won’t find the good stuff.”
Jack thinks Claire seems uncertain, because her words get quiet and hard to understand and she looks away, tugging at the sleeve of a hanging shirt.
“Okay,” says Jack, to reassure her. “I’ll look for some good stuff.” He notices a sleeve in an interesting bright red color, and picks up the hanger it’s attached to. “Like this?”
Claire stares at the shirt for a moment, then crosses her arms like she’s reminding herself not to do something. “Do you like it?” she asks.
Jack turns the shirt toward him. The front is covered with images of dogs’ faces. They’re all wearing hats with a white ball of fluff at the top.
Jack frowns. “I don’t think so.” The dogs don’t look particularly happy, and the red is starting to feel loud.
“Good,” says Claire. She takes the hanger from his hands and puts it back on the rack. “At least you have some taste. I’m gonna help you get started.”
Claire finds Jack a faux leather jacket. She says it’s pretty cool and he likes the texture of it between his fingers. They find a cozy sweater in a shade of blue that makes Jack think of birds singing on a cool morning. Jack is very proud to have found the next thing, a black t-shirt with the name of a band he recognizes: Led Zeppelin. He likes the shape of the white letters, and the drawing of the angel, falling with its wings spread. Claire says to watch out, because she thinks it’s real vintage, and Dean might want to steal it from him.
“Sam has this shirt,” Jack comments, pointing at a red plaid. He doesn’t want it, because Sam already has it, but Claire makes him put it on and gleefully holds out her phone to take a picture.
“Make a Sam face,” she says.
Jack smiles.
Claire grabs a basket from the front of the store and they dump their findings in while they wander through shelves of knickknacks. Claire picks up a little bronze owl and turns it over in her hands. One of its eyes is bigger than the other in a way that’s sort of funny.
“Did you find a treasure?” asks Jack.
“Alex will like it,” says Claire, and sets it in the basket.
There are a lot of mugs that say things like “World’s Best Dad” and cups that have flowers on them. One cup stands out because it has a smiling face on it. The face is winking and has a blue bow tie under its chin. Jack picks it up. The inside of the cup says Yum.
“Oh my god,” says Claire, peering over his shoulder.
“I think it’s nice,” says Jack. He puts it in the basket.
Claire pays for everything, and Jack smiles watching the cashier fold his new clothes and wrap the cup up in paper like a gift.
Claire asks if he wants to get frozen yogurt. He says “Yes” and she smiles, a big smile this time.
Her eyes go wide when he puts his yogurt on the scale. A few sprinkles roll onto the floor and he apologizes and sweeps them up. All the toppings looked so good that he had tried to use all of them.
“Your yogurt looks pretty,” says Jack when they’ve sat down, admiring the rich brown swirls and sprinkles in Claire’s bowl.
“Thanks,” says Claire around a mouthful of yogurt. “I thought I’d try to stick to a theme.”
Jack digs past the kiwis and gummy worms and manages to get some peanut butter yogurt on his spoon. It’s a delightful whirlwind of flavors, but his favorite thing is the little spheres that burst into juicy flavor in his mouth. He shares some with Claire. She calls them popping boba balls, and it makes him smile just to hear the name.
It isn’t until he’s back at the bunker that he realizes they forgot the shoes.
“What were you doing that whole time?” asks Dean.
“Eating popping boba balls,” says Jack. “And treasure hunting.”
He shows them his new sweater, and jacket, and the shirt, which makes Dean say, “Nice!” He peers closely at the white lettering and sniffs the fabric.
“Why are you smelling it?” says Sam. “You know what, those should probably be washed before you wear them anyway, Jack.”
“Handwash that one,” says Dean emphatically. “That is authentic.”
Sam clears his throat. “Did you get that other shirt?”
“What other shirt?” asks Jack.
“Never mind,” says Sam.
Jack holds out the little paper-wrapped cup. “And I got this.” He peels the wrapping away and reveals the little winking face.
Dean’s eyes widen. He points suspiciously at the cup. “That thing is definitely haunted.”
“Really?” says Jack.
Sam shakes his head and chuckles. “Not really.”
Jack sets the cup on a shelf in his bedroom so it winks at him as he’s falling asleep. He’s looking forward to going shoe shopping with Claire again.