Page 13 of How My Neighbour Stole Christmas
I sigh heavily. “Chicken parm.”
“Huh, would have pegged you for an ‘all the meat’ kind of guy.”
I don’t bother commenting because I’m not interested in opening up the conversation. So instead, I rock on my heels, hating this time of year with the crowds that flock to the town, holding up my ability to partake in a sandwich after a long day of taking care of reindeer.
“You know, since you grew so well.”
“Huh?” I say.
“The meat. The muscles. They correspond. More protein means more muscles, unless you supplement. Are you supplementing, Connor?”
“Cole,” I remind her, my patience wearing thin.
“Oh shit, sorry.” She chuckles. “Just got Connor stuck in my head now. Anywho, are you supplementing?”
“I’m trying not to have a conversation with you, remember?”
“Sure…right. Wasn’t sure if the awkward silence was making your skin crawl like it is mine. But I’m going to take that as a no, so I’ll just stand here and wait.”
“Thanks,” I say, feeling settled finally.
Christ, what does it take to get Storee to understand? The best thing we can do is just avoid each other. Nothing good comes from us being near each other.
Thankful for some peace, I focus on my evening, how I plan on eating my sandwich in front of the TV and catching up on the latest—
“So what have you been up to the six years since I saw you?” Storee asks, breaking the silence again. When I turn to look at her, she adds, “Eh, was it six years? Can’t quite remember. Wait, I think you said ten. That’s right, ten years.”
“Storee, stop talking to me.”
“I can’t.” She shrugs.
“Yes, you can. You’re choosing not to,” I reply, my irritation ramping up.
“No, I actually have a really hard time dealing with awkward silence, and it propels me to want to fill in that silence with gibberish, hence what’s happening right now. So, uh…what have you been up to?”
“Nothing,” I say, turning away from her and stuffing my hands in my pockets.
I feel her move up beside me and catch her peeking around my shoulder from the corner of my eye. “For ten years you’ve been up to nothing? Seems like a giant waste of time.”
“Leave me alone,” I say.
“Hard to.”
“Try harder.”
“I am. Believe me, I’ve held back on at least twenty questions already.”
“Should I be thankful?”
“Very,” she replies. “So, anyway, want to tell me what about the chicken parm gets your taste buds ready to do a happy dance?”
“No.”
“Is it the cheese?”
“Leave me alone.”
“The sauce?”
