It roused
memories, in him, the way the total that rang up higher than what they had to spend. Enough to propel him back in time, the world fading away around him.
And, just like before, it was enough to turn the dial up on his childish, inherent rage. The amount of times he'd sneered and call his mother stupid, wrenching away the more expensive items and shoving them onto the little shelves with bubblegum and tictacs, or making his little sisters run and put it all away.
The confused look he'd give the cashier as they explained that rotisserie chicken doesn't qualify for SNAP, and so much else from before Leslie had started refusing to go, before he'd been banned from nearly every grocery store within walking distance because of his delinquency.
It had just been so much funnier when someone else had to be responsible for the mess, when they'd deliberately slipped and splashed milk all along the aisles, or ridden carts, or worse.
Leslie felt grown up, to be hateful of what he'd been just a year ago.
But America is adding her own debit card to the mix, and unlike the time he'd been conned into an
evening out with Hawthorn and Abbi, Leslie had brought his wallet. He dug up a few twenties, enough to cover the stupid amount of pet food in their cart, shoving it at America without a word
or eye contact.
