Charlie's bike tipped and swayed as he struggled to balance while holding on to a heavy, bulging black garbage bag. Sweat stung his eyes and stuck his white T-shirt to his back.
Sparrows were singing in the trees. The sun was shining bright. Wispy, hooked cirrus uncinus clouds shifted in the wind high above his head.
Charlie noticed none of this as he focused on the road ahead of him, trying to remain upright while clutching his bundle, humming the tune to Supertramp's "The Logical Song," occasionally singing a few of the lyrics.
Finally, the squat, one-story building, surrounded by flowerbeds filled with wildflowers he'd usually pause to notice, came into view, its sign painted with the words "Trash to Treasures" in large stenciled letters.
Charlie brought his bike to a halt, panting heavily and almost dropping his bundle as he got off his bike.
He pried his kickstand down and rested his bike just outside the wood shingle-covered building. A chill ran down his spine, the same as it always did before he went inside.
A cowbell rang as he opened the heavy, knotted wooden door. Charlie jumped at the sound. He never could get used to it.
He was immediately hit by the smell of cedar-wood incense, barely masking a dusty, musky odor mingled with mothballs and mildew. He sneezed a few times as he stood in the doorway, letting his eyes grow accustomed to the dim interior. Sunlight filtered faintly through the windows, illuminating the dust swirling in the air.
He jumped at the sound of Mary's cough. She always got him. She was sitting in a dim corner in her old handmade rocking chair, wearing a colorful but faded dress, whittling on a foot-long section of a log with a long, intimidating knife, her owl and her hat bobbing gently as she rocked.
"Hello, Charlie Dear!" she called out in a surprisingly sweet, sing-song voice.
"Um, hi, Mary," Charlie stammered.
"You bring me something I can use, or something I'll have to throw away?"
"Um, useful stuff, I hope." Charlie stammered as he walked hesitantly to the antique, claw-footed table beside her.
"Gingersnap?" She pried the top off a rusty old tin and held it out to Charlie.
"Thank you." Charlie took a whiff of the strong ginger and cinnamon scent as he hesitantly plucked a dark brown wafer from the old tin.
His eyes watered, and his mouth burned as he quickly chewed and gulped the spicy cookie under Mary's watchful gaze. The owl's dark eyes glinted at him as he chewed.
Wishing for a glass of water, Charlie opened his sack and began pulling out a dark black hoodie. Mary just rocked and whittled quietly.
He set the hoodie on the table, then added a pair of dark, baggy cargo pants.
"Shedding again, I see?" Mary asked softly.
Charlie winced. "I... guess you could say that."
He continued with several dark shirts and pants. Most of them had been bought here, replacements of similar clothes he had purchased at the store after he had set his bold superhero shirts on that same table.
Finished with the clothes, he pulled out a copy of Ender's Game, pausing to look at the cover.
That book was... useful.
No! We're done.
Charlie slammed the book down on the table. Mary peered at him for a moment, then continued with her whittling.
Heart racing, he reached down further and pulled out a wadded-up curtain, a bright red and yellow parrot, and matching hibiscus flowers crumpled but still distinguishable.
He glanced at it for a moment, then turned away quickly.
Next, he set out a plastic Tyrannosaurus Rex on the table, followed by an Ankylosaur.
He reached into his bag one more time. His hand returned with a long rubber snake. He turned, hoping Mary wouldn't see his tears as he gently laid the snake on top of the curtain.
He wiped his tears away and glanced at Mary, who had still been watching him closely while whittling.
He swallowed hard. "I hope these... can be of use to you."
She nodded, her owl bobbing in unison with her. "I'm sure the clothes will work for another boy's costume."
Charlie shuddered, then dropped his gaze. "I'm, uh, just going to look around."
She shrugged. "You won't find what you're looking for in this old place, but I make my living off people trying, so be my guest."
Charlie slipped behind a shelf of assorted knick-knacks. A black-haired doll wearing a frilly dress with a white top and a vibrant, floral skirt was staring at him. He shuddered and turned away from the doll, then pulled out his wallet from his worn blue jeans and counted out $31.00 — all that was left of his school money from his parents, hoping he could make it stretch. The new running shoes, clearance-rack Doc Martens, socks, plain boxers, a package of t-shirts for gym and cross-country, a Spanish/English dictionary, and school supplies had cost way more than he had anticipated.
He tucked his wallet back in his pocket and headed toward the clothing section, pausing to gaze longingly at the bookshelf-lined room on the way.
Clothes. Not books. Clothes.
He sighed.
Ok. Another time?
If we can afford it.
He sighed once more and continued to the clothes racks, stopping first at the belts. He held a variety of brown belts up to his shoes, finally settling on one that kind of matched. He wrapped the belt around his waist. It was a little worn and a little big. The holes ended a little short, but he figured he could poke a few new ones in when he got home. He looked at the price tag. $3.00.
Ok, got the belt. Now pants.
He thumbed through Wranglers, camo pants, slacks, brown Carharts, and baggy skater jeans. None was what he was looking for. A pair of khakis caught his eye. He wrinkled his nose. They were so... dull. But they were exactly what he needed. They didn't quite reach his ankles when he held them to his waist, and looked a little big around, but they would have to do. He was pretty used to not being able to get pants that fit his long legs and slim waist anyway.
He finally found another pair of khakis that would work somewhat ok as well. He checked the tags. 5.00 each. He winced. 13.00 down already, and he still needed shirts. He hunted through more camo, sleeveless shirts, assorted t-shirts, western shirts, long johns, dress shirts, and tank tops, pulling out a cool Jurassic Park T-shirt. He excitedly pulled it out. It had the logo and a frilled dilophasaurus on it. He chuckled a little. It had been one of his favorites in the movie, but he had been so disappointed to learn that the real dinosaur didn't have a frill, nor did it spit venom. He held it up to himself. It would fit perfectly. He sighed. It wouldn't work for what he needed at all, and Dilophosaurus was a predator. He put the shirt back and grabbed a pale blue button-up shirt, holding it up to himself. He sighed again. This was the look he was going for. Respectable. Responsible. Predictable. Safe. He started hunting through the racks for more button-ups, finding a light green, passing on a pink, and settled on a cream-colored shirt. He pulled out one with bright green leaves, then shuddered. There was a bright red San Joaquin right in the center. He looked away as he slipped the shirt between the others and hung it back on the rack.
He continued to search, finding a brown button-up that was a little too dark, but would have to work. The only other shirt that looked close to what he wanted was a sickly yellow. He wasn't thrilled with any of them, but they would have to do. He checked the price tags. 2.00 each. $23.00 down. Leaving $8.00. These would have to do for now.
Ok, gym and running shorts.
Ugh! Gym.
Yeah. Running won't be much better, though.
I know... I'll figure out something.
Running's cool.
If I survive the locker room.
Will I have to... shower?
It's a no-go if I do.
Deal.
He finally found a pair of running shorts that were long enough. He could tell he was going to have the same problem with them as with the pants, though. Just a little too wide around the waist. Hopefully, they would stay on.
Seriously. I can't be the only guy with long legs and no hips.
He checked the price tag. 1.50. 6.50 left.
One last thing. Charlie draped his clothes and his belt over his shoulder, making his way past the dishes, tools, knick-knacks, and assorted holiday decorations, chuckling at the sight of Santa, sandwiched between a pumpkin and a skeleton with a goofy grin, and headed to the bowl of watches. He'd broken his last one. Not on purpose. He just wanted to see what the quartz crystal looked like inside. It was surprising how small the U-shaped sliver of crystal was inside the sealed metal tube. The pulsing he was hoping to see was not noticeable, even under his magnifying glass. And he'd destroyed the watch in the process.
He found another one he liked. The band was leather, and the face was ornate but not too fancy. This one also used a quartz crystal. He frowned at the price tag. 7.50. Too much. He put the nicer watch down and settled on a much simpler quartz crystal watch with a plain face and plastic band for $5.00. Not what he wanted, but at least it worked.
Charlie made his way to the tiny bathroom, which had a crooked toilet and a slightly foggy mirror, and closed the door, trying not to analyze the smell. He set his new watch on the counter, hung his new clothes on the hook behind the door, then slipped his docs and his pants off. He grinned at his boxers. Today it was Pinky and the Brain. Then he frowned. He probably should get rid of these ones, but he couldn't bear to. Pinky and the Brain. Him and Phil.
He needed to pee, so he turned to face the toilet. He ripped off a piece of toilet paper and used it to grab and lift the seat, then pulled his boxers down just enough to let it out, holding it timidly and looking down just long enough to aim.
When he was finished, he used the toilet paper to flush, put the seat back down, and then discarded the square in the garbage. He squirted a mound of soap on his hands and washed them several times.
After drying his hands, he grabbed the first pair of khakis and slipped them on. They were, as he suspected, a little too wide around the waist and a touch too short at the legs. He threaded the belt on and tightened it. The pants would probably work once he punched more holes in the belt. He grabbed the cream-colored shirt next and slipped it over his T-shirt. It was a little tight, but not terrible. His hands trembled a little as he slowly buttoned the shirt up, sucking his breath in a little as he did up each button. He frowned, unbuttoned the shirt, and slipped it off.
Reluctantly, he slipped his T-shirt off and slipped the cream colored shirt back on, scowling at his pale, smooth, scrawny chest as he buttoned the shirt up again. Still a little snug, but not terrible.
He tucked the shirt in and did up his pants, tucking the belt in about where he hoped he could get it with a few adjustments. Then he slipped his docs on and swallowed hard, arranging his clothes the best he could.
He held his breath as he looked at himself in the foggy mirror. His hair was, besides his brief "buzzwaldo" stage in second grade, the shortest it had ever been. He adjusted the new button-up and khakis the best he could, and forced a smile.
The chorus of the "Logical Song" started looping through his mind again. He stared at himself in the mirror as it played, then looked down at his docs. Softly, he whispered, "I wish I knew who I am, too," as he slowly unbuttoned the shirt.
The song and the question kept playing in his mind as he tried on the rest of the shirts and the second pair of khakis. None of them fit the greatest, but they were the best he could find.
He pulled off the khakis and the last button-up, then grabbed the gym shorts and slipped them on. They reached his knees, which was nice, but they didn't fit his waist as much as he would have liked. He tried jumping around, jogging in place, and doing a few jumping jacks. The shorts held. He tugged just a little. They still held. He tugged a little harder, and they slid down his waist. He frowned. Hopefully, no one would pull on them.
Charlie caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and scowled as he reminded himself that this is what everyone saw when he had to be on the skins team. A scrawny, uncoordinated loser.
Stupid PE.
He quickly dressed, then untied his Docs and slipped them on. Nothing fancy, but sturdy and dependable, while still looking nice.
He finished tying his shoes, grabbed his new clothes and watch, and left the bathroom.
The musty air seemed surprisingly fresh as he entered the storeroom and headed to the front counter. He stole a longing glance at the book room, then turned his head and continued to the front of the store.
Mary set her carving and knife aside and stood.
"I can't say those fit you, but I'll still take your money," she chuckled.
Charlie just stared at his new clothes as he set them, the belt, and the watch on the counter.
Mary picked up the watch. "Trying to buy time?"
Charlie shrugged.
She tossed the watch aside. "I'm not selling you this."
Charlie looked up, surprised.
She peered at him. "Go get the other one."
Charlie stammered, "But I don't..."
Mary just stared at him.
Charlie swallowed and headed back to the watches, picking up the nicer watch. He hesitantly laid it on the counter.
She nodded. "That's better."
She nodded toward the book room. "I see you didn't check up on your friends this time."
Charlie sighed and shook his head no.
She shrugged. "Ok. Come back when you're ready. No guarantees they'll still be here, though."
Charlie nodded.
Mary hit a button on her ancient cash register. The drawer popped open with a "ching!"
Mary glanced at Charlie. "Well, boy, are you going to pay me, or are you going to put these things back where they belong?"
Charlie flushed and fished out his wallet, hesitantly counting out his bills and setting them on the counter. "It's not..."
She scooped up the money. "Thanks for your business, boy." She stuffed the clothes, belt, and watch in a sack and handed them to him. "I'll see you when you bring these back."
"Um, ok, uh, have a nice day..." Charlie stammered.
Mary headed back to her rocking chair. "That's up to me if I will or not, boy."
She called out to him as he reached the door. "You forgot something."
Charlie turned around. She was holding up the copy of Ender's Game.
Charlie shook his head no. "No, that stays here."
Mary tossed the book down. "Ok, he'll be here with the rest of your friends. Don't wait too long, though. They might find a new home if you do."
Charlie stepped out the door with his new clothes, blinking and dazed in the sunlight.