I am Clara

Shopping Gone Wrong

Mimpi had done as I asked and stayed away for a week. Andrews and I continued training on our own, and though it may have been less efficient, it was a lot more peaceful. Only recently had Mimpi and Xander returned, this time not accompanied by their fellow warriors. Mimpi had decided we'd put the arguing behind us, which I doubted would last long, and prioritize training as she reckoned that I had at most a month before facing Kundanskie. I wasn't thrilled with the news, but it wasn't as though I wasn't expecting it. I had begun dreaming of our battle, Kundanskie winning every time, laughing in the face of my dying body. I was constantly exhausted and stressed from both the lack of sleep and growing intensity of training. I was excited to get away from it all, even if just for a day.

      Mom who was working a twelve-hour shift on a Saturday, had called Emma, and Arabella was once again quick to get me to replace the babysitter.

      Money to do some summer break shopping, Andrews and I brought the kids to the mall. I knew my mother would be in no state to do so, soon. Clothes shopping with Bella and Isaiah was quite an easy task; Isaiah knew his style very well and Bella wore pretty much anything that was either pink, purple, or read some sort of witty comment. The twins on the other hand could not have cared less. They'd be completely content to wear a garbage bag to school. Their lack of interest in buying new clothes really sucked considering they were in the most need of it, constantly ruining the clothes they did own. Even the outfits they wore to the mall were tattered: both their jeans were grass stained over the knees, shoes beaten to the sole, Tyson's shirt ripped at the bottom right hem and Tyler's yellow shirt splattered with blue paint along the collar.

      "So, if we buy some clothes, we get to go to the hardware store?" Tyler repeated our bargain.

     "Yes," I sighed. "I don't know how much money you'll have left, but—"

     "We've got our own money for that," Tyson pulled a large crumple of bills from his back pocket.

      Amused expression quickly turned to worry. I couldn't fathom where two 7-year-olds had gotten so much money. "Please tell me this wasn't stolen."

      "It's not stolen," they said in unison.

      "Promise?"

      "Promise," they said. "We earned it. No lying, stealing, or hustling," Tyler added.

      They gave me no time to question it further. Excited to get their supplies, both my hands were grabbed, and I was dragged to the nearest kid's store. Andrews, Bella, and Isaiah didn't follow. Chuckling and giggling they headed in the other direction. Traitors.

      I had never seen the twins shop so fast. In ten minutes, we were out of the store, three clothes filled bags. They found their size section and pulled just about anything off the shelves. Whatever they were working on, had definitely generated a great deal of enthusiasm.

      "Can this, even in the slightest way, cause a person harm?"

     "No," they said, clearly affronted.

     "It is totally safe," Tyler added.

     "Do we look like amateurs?" Tyson asked incredulously.

     "I was just making sure," I defended, letting them return to their calculations.

     I'd have raised my hands in surrender if not for the fact that my arms were full. Metal cylinders, rubber wires, red spray paint, wood, and buckets of nails, I had to use my chin to steady the large pile in my arms. Struggling to balance the stash, it was both impressive and worrisome to watch them. Referring to their handmade blueprint, they took their measurements with ease and correctly calculated every penny they spent. Their intelligence, especially together, was almost frightening. Despite most people's beliefs, they were the smartest of the Molino bunch. Bella had a great memory, but the twins had a different kind of intelligence. Give them a broken washing machine or toaster, at only seven years old, and they would fix it or make something new out of it. They were so full of ideas, sometimes it was scary to think about what they could create. But then they'd look at you with their trademark grin or breakout into a cheesy happy dance and you just laugh because you knew they'd never use their brains for ill intentions. They'd rather spend hours in their hand crafted, four-foot-wide pool with sprinklers.