Top Ten Clues You’re Clueless Read Online Free PDF Page A

day.
    Tyson waits until Kris is out of earshot, then looks at me. “You and I both know that
     Gabe cannot check and bag.”
    This is true.
    THINGS GABE ROSSI IS GOOD AT
    1. Being charming.
    2. Flirting with the middle-aged yoga moms.
    3. Playing basketball—according to him.
    4. Getting the credit-card scanner to work even when no one else can seem to make
     it read.
    THINGS GABE ROSSI IS NOT GOOD AT
    1. Getting to work on time.
    2. Bagging groceries.
    3. Working the register and bagging groceries at the same time.
    4. Not flirting with middle-aged yoga moms.
     
    “Maybe carts can wait until I get back from my break,” I suggest. “I can check and
     bag while you go out.”
    “Maybe.” Tyson steps back to squint toward the front of the store, where the carts
     are stored. Or, where they would be stored, if there were any. “It doesn’t look good.”
    “I’ll bag for you.” I’m already reaching for the next item to come down the conveyor.
     Incidentally, Mrs. Hudson’s Vitamin Water.
    “Kris might get mad if you stay on the floor.”
    “Then I’ll go get carts,” I decide.
    Tyson looks at me from the corner of his eye. “No offense, but, you?”
    “Hey, I could do it!” I strike a body-builder pose, realizing too late it’s going
     to make me look even geekier than usual.
    Tyson chuckles, tipping his head down to look at me over the rims of his glasses.
    “It would be more impressive if I didn’t have this thermal on.” I pluck at the sleeve
     of the gray thermal shirt I put on under my red holiday GoodFoods T-shirt. It’s too
     cold to spend the day in short sleeves.
    “It would be more impressive if there was anything under that thermal,” Tyson teases,
     squeezing my nonexistent bicep.
    I bite my lip, startled by the contact. Please don’t blush, please don’t blush, I beg my body.
    Tyson pulls his hand back and drums it against his leg. “You should go before Kris
     comes back.”
    “I’m getting carts,” I tell him.
    “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it.”
    “No. I’ll do it.” Just because I’ve never gotten carts before doesn’t mean I can’t
     do it, right? How hard can it be?
    I code my way into the Break Room and get my coat and gloves from my locker, knocking
     my lunch bag to the floor in the process. I’m supposed to have a snack during my break,
     but I’m determined to help Tyson. So I reach blindly into the bag and come out with
     a stick of string cheese. Good old Mom. I can get it down with two bites. It should
     hold me for a while.
    My apron sticks out from beneath my jacket when I zip it up, making me feel stupid
     for not taking it off. None of the people who regularly go out for carts have their
     aprons poking out beneath their jackets. Oh well.
    Outside, the weather hits me like a brick wall. Kris wasn’t kidding. There is something falling from the sky, but it can’t seem to decide if it’s rain or snow. My shoes
     squelch in the dark-gray slop splattered all over the blacktop.
    I spot Sammi working at one of the cart corrals. She has the little red machine that
     powers all the carts in a long train back to the building. I dart around a few cars
     cruising for spots and call out to her.
    “I’m here to help!”
    “You?” she asks. “Why did Kris send you?”
    “He didn’t. I’m supposed to be on break. But it’s crazy in there. No one else can
     come.”
    “Wouldn’t you rather go on break?”
    “I don’t mind.” I really don’t. I always feel singularly useless on my required breaks.
     They never come at a time when I could actually use one. I’d rather just work straight
     through and get the day over with.
    Sammi braces her foot against a particularly stubborn pair of carts and wrestles one
     free. “Was Tyson supposed to come out?”
    My ears get hot, and a trickle of melting sleet drizzles down my neck. I hope the
     cold covers up my involuntary blushing. “Yeah, but he’s gotta bag for Gabe.”
    Sammi snorts. “No kidding.