Feet Aren't Made for Walking [BEING PUBLISHED!] #OnceUponNow

Part One

"Well..." I shrugged. "That sucks."

"Would it kill you, Leo, to care about your old man's problems for once? Pittsburgh's making it to the World Series this year, mark my words."

I reached for the front door. "Consider them marked, Dad."

"Want to watch the game when you get back?"

"Ehh..." I could see the hope in his eyes. (Or maybe that was just joy over finally locating the remote lodged inside a potted plant.) "I'll pass. See you later." 

As soon as I got in the car, Mia was all over me. She gripped my elbow as I backed out of the driveway, causing me to swerve and almost mow down the neighbor's cat. "Leo! Leo, we're going to the library, right?"

"Nope. We're going to hell."

"Wait, what? Because Suzie Samuels said that Mrs. Benedict changed the due date for our book report and we have to write five pages for Friday and I still don't have a novel picked out. I'm thinking something with fairies. Or elves. What do you think?" When I didn't reply, she lunged for my arm again. I almost ran a stop sign, and a car sitting at the intersection honked. "Leo!"

"Shhh! I'm training myself to block out the sound of your voice."

Here was the thing: I actually liked my family. I just didn't want them to know I liked them. If they knew, they would expect things from me. They would want chores completed on time, good grades in school, birthday cards, flowers on Mother's Day, a steak dinner on Father's Day, and I was afraid I wouldn't be able to measure up to their expectations. What if I bought the wrong gift or the card wasn't heartfelt enough or – ugh! Pretending not to care was safer. Having feelings was for saps.

The library was a nightmare. Mia picked up every single book on the shelves, smiled at the cover, read the synopsis aloud in a chipper voice that I naïvely assumed to mean she thought the book was a winner, then she frowned and wrinkled her nose and put the book down. Rinse and repeat. After she completed her ritual with book number twenty – or was it thirty? – I was ready to lock myself in the bathroom, shove my head in the toilet, and inhale. 

"How about this?" Mia showed me a cover featuring a rickety house and an ominous full moon. Mom had said no vampires. This definitely looked like a vampire book. But I didn't care. Caring would only prolong the torture.

"It's okay, I guess."

Mia rolled her eyes, replaced the book, and then it was time to poke around the shelves some more. A minute later, she emerged with a paperback showcasing a raunchy, half-naked cowboy.

"That's fine too."

"Yeah right. Mrs. Benedict would fail me. Leo, don't you have an opinion about anything?"

"Guess not." Liar. I had loads of opinions. I was just afraid of being told that those opinions were wrong.           

Mia rounded the stacks, passing the travel and leisure section and coming to a stop in science fiction and fantasy. I stood on my tip-toes, wondering where the cookbooks were. I needed to salivate over a picture of a hamburger. Stat.