Roar of Dragons

[Xander – 12 years]

"I'm stupid," I tell my reflection. "I'm ugly. I'm a worthless piece of shit."

What was the next part? Mr. Caldwell told me after we returned from the bowling alley last night that I should do this in the mornings. I'm not sure I remember the whole thing correctly but am too afraid to ask him what it was. What if he doesn't let me eat breakfast today because I forgot his directions?

I remember something about saying three bad things about myself… oh, right. Three good things about myself was the other part.

"I didn't get beaten yesterday," I say. "I didn't break anything yesterday. And, um… um… oh. I'm apparently really good at bowling?"

That last one makes me feel good, but then I feel guilty for it. I'm better than Mr. Caldwell is at bowling and he's probably not happy about that. A waste of space like me shouldn't be better than anyone at anything.

Huffing, I finish touching up my roots. My hair grows fairly fast so I usually need to touch up the roots about once a week. I also gave my hair its first cut of the month as well, though it was more of trimming to keep it from being too long.

One thing I'm glad about is that I can acquire the touch-up kit in a bulk pack for really cheap. The dye I use costs ten dollars for a box and holds very well and they sell a ten-time touch-up kit for only twenty dollars. It's one of the only things I use my allowance for outside of bowling and buying cheesecake. Me spending money on something else instead of putting it to my emergency stash is even rarer than buying the dye or touch-up kits.

Supposedly, my hair would stay whatever color I wanted it to even without me touching up the roots as long as I wanted it really hard. I'm pretty sure the reason my hairs grows so fast is because it's trying to get rid of the dye. The dye actually sticking to it surprises me.

Since the dork is the one who told me that my hair would stay the same color, though, I'm fairly certain it was just a case of him mixing up reality and his dreams again.

After I finish touching up my roots, I clean up the mess I made, then change out of the shorts I wear for doing anything with hair dye and pull on one of the outfits Mr. Caldwell bought for me on Friday. This one is just a pair of dark blue jeans and a grey shirt, the shirt a long-sleeved one like I usually wear. Unlike my old clothes, this outfit was new when I received it. The jeans and shirt are also much more comfortable and I like how the shirt feels against my skin. Much softer.

Ms. Johnson tried to find me clothes that wouldn't feel coarse but it was hard when having to look at cheaper shops and second-hand shops. I appreciated the effort but I'm not sure why she went to the trouble for me. The effort she put in should have gone to boys who were more worthy of it.

"There you are, Xander," Mr. Caldwell says when I enter the dining room. "Did you sleep alright after you fell back asleep?"

Every night since coming here, Mr. Caldwell has woken me up from a nightmare because I was screaming too loud. Despite me waking him up, Mr. Caldwell still plays Go Fish with me until I fall asleep again. Ms. Katie also plays with us, though she usually fetches me a glass of water first.

When will he just admit that I'm not right for here and send me back?

"Y-yes, sir," I answer. "Sorry for waking you up again."

"It's okay, Xander," it's nowhere near okay. It's entirely unacceptable! Just send me back already! "Come, have a seat. Breakfast is almost ready. Katie made cinnamon rolls. Do you like those?"

Oh, no. Not a question like this!

"N-no, sir."

"That's okay," Mr. Caldwell says. "Could you at least try it? Sometimes, a small change to a recipe can change how much a person likes or dislikes something. Think of it like burgers – you like there being onion and ketchup, but not too much, right? And you don't like it if there's mustard but might if there's not."

That makes sense, so I nod to agree to try the cinnamon rolls that Ms. Katie serves us. The rolls are huger than the ones we sometimes got at the boys' home or at school, and there's a lot more icing on top of mine than I'm used to. The icing is even still liquid from warmth instead of hardening up already.

For the sides for breakfast, there are two sausage links and a bowl with pink yogurt, some granola-looking things, some chopped nuts, and some blueberries and chunks of what I think are peaches. I know there are peach trees in the back yard so they probably are peaches.

I'm given a choice of orange juice or milk for breakfast so I choose orange juice. So that I can wash down the taste as quickly as possible, I wait for the juice to arrive before I take my first bite of the cinnamon roll.

It's… not as bad as I thought it was. I don't like it, but I don't hate it. The cinnamon roll is also a lot fluffier than I expected it to be. As a compromise for getting to eat stuff I like for breakfast sometimes, I'll be okay with this since Mr. Caldwell wants it. At least it's better than bacon or eggs or worse – both. Bacon takes the place of sausage on his plate but he has the yogurt as well instead of eggs.

My favorite part of the cinnamon roll is the icing… but also that Mr. Caldwell offers me syrup and I can dunk the roll bits I tear off into that. Dunked in syrup, the cinnamon roll is much more delicious.

"Are you still hungry?" Mr. Caldwell asks once I finish eating.

This is a trick question. He knows that I'm still hungry, I'm certain of it. He'll tell me that's all I get if I say yes but call me a liar if I say no and then punish me, possibly with a severe beating. Better to go with the lesser of the two evils: being honest.

"Y-yes."

"Do you want seconds?" I nod. "What would you like more of?"

"Um… anything."

That should be safe. Says I'll eat what's put in front of me instead of making an actual request. Mr. Caldwell would decide what I eat anyway so this doesn't act like I'm in charge. It's also not a lie because I'd like more of anything I was served, even the cinnamon rolls. They're not so bad once dunked in syrup.

Ms. Katie puts another set of breakfast in front of me, almost the same as before. There are four sausage links this time. I refill the small bowl for the syrup and start eating. As it turns out, the sausage links also taste better when dipped in the syrup, though they tasted good even without that.

The second serving of breakfast filled me up a lot more, so I excuse myself once I finish and go to the room I was assigned to wait half an hour. I don't like being up here because it's the second floor but I haven't brushed my teeth yet and the dentist says I should always wait at least half an hour after eating to brush my teeth. By waiting up here, I won't have to stop something else in order to go brush my teeth.

Though I'm still worried. What if the floor breaks and I fall through? It wouldn't surprise me if the universe did that to punish me and-bloop!

What? Where did that noise come from? I hear the bloop again and realize that it came from my pocket so I reach in and pull out the phone that Mr. Caldwell gave me. It bloops again as a notification pops up on the screen.

That's not any of the notification sounds I remember it having. I didn't change it because I'm not sure I'm allowed to but I know that it has a lot of different… ones… it's the dork.

I check the messages to see what he's messaging me about. The question of how he got this number is on my mind but I'm pretty sure I won't understand his answer. Then there's the fact that his number is already set as a contact as well.

Ninja were probably involved. I'm fairly certain the dork is one and that he's part of a big group of them in the area, as much as he denies it. Even if the lie-detection ability of mine says he's being honest, I doubt it. He can probably fool it.

Fluffy Dog Master: Do you know where the silverpeer wrench is?

Fluffy Dog Master: Found it.

Fluffy Dog Master: Do you think bradlra or srielmol is a better rune for making things catch on fire?

He must have come across a very fluffy dog recently and now I want pictures of it but I'm hesitant to ask. The dork always sends me pictures if I ask but it feels wrong to ask. I decide to ask, but I first need to answer his questions. Or well, just the one since it seems he found the wrench within three seconds of asking me.

The dork likes to issue random quizzes like this. They sometimes only have one question but sometimes have more than fifty. Usually, he only does the latter when we're face-to-face. I'm sometimes right and sometimes wrong. Better than my grades in school, though, where I'm usually wrong no matter how hard I try to study.

This is a really tricky question for me. If I remember correctly, both runes have specific situations they're good for catching things on fire in but also situations they're bad at catching things on fire in. Whatever they are… I can't remember so I make a guess and text it to him and hope that I'm right.

Xander: Srielmol?

Xander: Kann I git a pikchir uf the fluffy dog pleez?

A moment later, a picture pops up in the text conversation. It's of a really fluffy dog that's sitting on the retaining wall at the Wolf's Dragon. It's an absolutely massive dog, it's probably as tall as I am while sitting down. That kind of scares me but I'm glad I'm not there in-person. It might think I'm food and then try to eat me before realizing I don't taste very good.

The dork was probably on the way to his workshop/lab as the restaurant isn't open and I'm not sure he even knows of its existence. More than likely, he thinks the parking lot is just for people to hang out in. He may not have even known of its existence until he saw the dog despite the fact that I think he has to go by there to reach his lab from his home.

I don't receive another message from the dork until I'm brushing my teeth, so I wait until I've finished and have put everything away to check it even though a second bloop quickly followed the first. It's a message and a picture.

Fluffy Dog Master: Srielmol turned out to be unoptimal. There may be room for improvement. Will alter the rune connections and try again. Will update on further progress.

The picture is of… a watermelon on fire. It's nearly a whole watermelon, apart from what's burned off and the runes that were etched into its rind. It's sitting on a tree stump in a forest, and I recognize the stump as something at his workshop which confirms he was on his way there when he saw the super fluffy dog.

"Oh, right," I mumble.

He wouldn't have asked me if I knew the location of the silverpeer wrench if he wasn't at the workshop. Stupid me, not remembering something so simple and obvious. Why do I have to be so stupid? Instead of dwelling on that, I send the dork another text. He doesn't mind me texting him with questions. Not even when they're really weird ones, but I try not to bother him too much.

Xander: Hauw minny watirmellins did yu bi?

Fluffy Dog Master: The store only had 47 left.

In other words, he bought forty-seven watermelons. I'm not sure how rich the dork is but he's always had plenty of money. Back in April, he even managed to buy a very expensive bomb. It was apparently easier than trying to buy zramanio powder directly which I find really weird. Why would an expensive and restricted bomb be easier to buy than one of the powders that helps give it its boom?

That confused me too much so I decided to not ask.

For a few moments, I contemplate asking the dork if he'll be okay with me coming to hang out with him at his workshop. That hope for a time without being too scared of anything other than his dorkishness and experiments is quickly squashed, however.

One of the rules I was given is that I have to tell Mr. Caldwell where I go if I go somewhere. Based on what's happened since I moved into his house on Friday, he'll want to visit the place as well. The dork doesn't exactly stay completely legal and Mr. Caldwell would definitely notice it. Then he'd call the police and have the dork and me arrested and I'd never get to hang out with the dork again. I'd even end up in prison where they give even worse punishments than just beatings to bad boys. They'd probably electrocute me a lot. And keep me tied down.

That starts making me panic, my breathing becoming short and difficult and tears welling up in my mind. Fortunately, I manage to realize it before my thoughts become all jumbled up, so I'm able to try and manage it a little and focus on something else.

I put the phone away and go downstairs, then out to the back yard to find a tree to sit under. Today, I sit under one of the peach trees to see if this spot feels comfortable. It at least smells good on top of being a little bit cooler due to the shade.

The dork occasionally sends me a new picture and an update on his experiment and I realize after the fourth one that he's actually sending me videos, not pictures. While the videos actually start before the runic formula the dork etched onto the watermelons ignite, the preview shows me a point halfway through them.

I watch the videos up until I notice Mr. Caldwell approaching with a laptop, then I quickly close them and pocket the phone. Mr. Caldwell smiles at me for a moment for some reason.

"Mind if I sit next to you?"

Why does he ask instead of just doing? I don't want him to but I can't say that or he'll get mad.

"G-go ahead."

Mr. Caldwell sits beside me and opens up his laptop, then shows me something on it. It's a list with a bunch of names on it, but they aren't the names of people. Some of them are probably companies while others are locations, like a school and a hospital.

"There was a pretty nasty tornado in another area a little bit ago," he tells me. "We're holding a charity event next Friday to try and help raise funds for it. That should give them time to get estimates on damages, find out more about what's happened and what is needed, and get volunteers down there to help work with the recovery groups. The way the benefit works is we'll host a dinner and people will pay to attend. All money that doesn't go to paying for the food, the venue, and so on will go to relief efforts. We'll also raffle off some items like gift bags and the money that wasn't spent to pay for them will go towards the relief efforts as well. While there, we'll also be asking people to donate money as well or send support. Some might donate one grand, some might donate ten grand, others might donate fifty grand. It depends on the person, how much money they have, and how generous they're feeling. Most people won't donate and will only go there to socialize, while many will donate one grand just so they can say they helped out and plenty will do it for the tax benefits. You look a little confused. What's up?"

"Leaves and branches."

"I meant that as 'what's confusing you'," Mr. Caldwell clarifies.

Why am I so stupid? That's probably something other boys my age knew already. I hate myself!

"Um… I'm sorry I wasn't listening very well, I didn't hear what they were donating. They're donating a grand what?"

"No, you heard me fine," Mr. Caldwell says. "In this context, 'one grand' means 'one thousand dollars'. So that's one thousand, ten thousand, and fifty thousand, respectively."

Oh. Now I feel even stupider. Why can't I be smart? I'm so fucking awful!

"Some of the donations," Mr. Caldwell says. "Will go to specific groups while others will go as general relief efforts. Some people will donate clothes, others food, others water, other medical supplies. Some construction companies will offer their services for a discount or even free if they can afford it to help rebuild the devastated town.

"Xander," he says. "What I want to do is donate to a specific cause, and I've narrowed it down to a few of them. Some are for specific efforts while others are just groups. Since you're my son now, I want to know your thoughts on which one I should donate to."

I'm not really his son, I'm just his foster son. My opinion doesn't matter and wouldn't even if I wasn't worthless.

"This is money I'll be putting forth immediately," Mr. Caldwell tells me. "Not something I'm waiting for the benefit to send down. Can you tell me if there's anything on this list that you'd like to donate for?"

I'm really unsure about this but Mr. Caldwell wants me to so I try to look at the list. He explains what some of the groups are when I don't understand. Some of the potential donations aren't for groups or businesses, either, but purchases of items to send down.

"Where are they all sleeping?" I brave asking. "The people whose homes were destroyed, I mean. Or, um… where will they be sleeping?"

He said it only just happened a little bit ago, so they probably haven't gone to sleep yet.

"Various places," Mr. Caldwell says. "Some will be staying at a friend's or family member's whose home survived or wasn't in the area. Others might rent a hotel room. Emergency camps will be set up in places like rec centers, community centers, and the like if they survived. Schools as well since it's summer. Sleeping bags will be provided if any are available. Most of them will have insurance that helps to cover the costs of getting a place to stay like an apartment or hotel, while others will receive help from the federal emergency service for this. That might take a little time, though."

"So they stay at the emergency shelter setups until they can get another?"

"Correct," Mr. Caldwell says.

"Do they have enough sleeping bags?"

"Do you think I should buy some and send them down there?" Mr. Caldwell asks and I give him a nervous nod. "Anything else?"

"Um… and pillows," I say. "So they can put their head on something soft when they sleep. And blankets. And maybe stuffed animals for the kids. And, um… sorry."

I'm telling him how to spend his money. Bad, Xander! Bad!

"Don't be sorry," Mr. Caldwell asks. "I asked what you thought. So you think they might need extra stuff for the people sleeping in the emergency camps?"

"Y-yeah."

"Alright," Mr. Caldwell says. "Then we'll do that. I'll check into some hygiene stuff as well. Toothbrushes, toothpaste, mouthwash, floss, deodorant, and the like. Did anything else on the list catch your eye?"

"Um… the children's hospital and middle school were both destroyed?"

"That's what it looks like," Mr. Caldwell says. "No confirmation yet but it's very likely based on what I heard. They do know the high school is safe and are setting up something in their gym and cafeteria. Once the vehicles can get down there, there will also be some set up that people can sleep in temporarily, sort of like mobile mini-hotels. Some of them will also be mobile medical centers."

"The dog shelters were okay?" I ask.

"I didn't see anything about animal shelters," Mr. Caldwell says. "But it will also take time for them to learn the full damages. The hospital and school are guesses based on their locations in the path and significance in the area meaning it's easier to check."

Dog shelters are significant. They want loving homes but were mostly abandoned or abused. If they don't have a place to go, then they'll just end up on the streets or dead. Maybe on the street and dead.

"I hope the dog shelters are okay."

Especially since if they were destroyed, then the dogs inside might have been killed, too. That would be really, really, really bad.

"We can hope," Mr. Caldwell says.

[Luke – 13 years]

"It's eight-thirty in the morning on a Wednesday during summer," Parker, my best friend in the entire world, complains as soon as he answers the phone. "Why'd you wake me up, Lucas?"

"I want to go by Luke now," I tell him. "And there was a mega tornado. Not here, somewhere else. It did a lot of severe damage and ruined a lot of things so I'm going to go down and help with some of the efforts, probably at a food place. I've already talked to Mom and she's contacting some people and getting a large order of food prepared. It should be ready to go down tomorrow but maybe tonight. Helping out will help with the credit for school of course but I also just want to help because of how many people are going to need food and they probably won't have enough volunteers. I'll be going down with the food though Mom's going to stay here. Trey Caldwell's organizing a benefit dinner next Friday so that there can be more details available though I think Mom said that he was planning on sending some aid down now as well and-"

"I am too tired for this," Parker complains. "Please take a breath no less frequently than once every five words."

"I'll try to remember that," I tell him. "Anyway, I was thinking that I could donate some of my clothes since I have so many of them and it's not like I wear all of them frequently since I don't change my outfits multiple times during the day. Then I realized I don't really like any of my clothes recently and that's probably why I kept looking at clothes on the island. I did buy some new shirts there, by the way. Oh! And I bought you one, too. It's ugly, you'll like it."

"Weren't you getting back on Friday?"

"There was an emergency at Mom's work so we came back early," I say. "We got back last night and the tornado happened around four-thirty this morning. I mean, I could have stayed at the island until Friday but I decided to come back early so I could learn more about the business. I haven't actually gone to bed yet. But back to the clothes, after realizing I didn't like any of my current outfits I decided that I'd just donate all of the clothes I don't like anymore. Before I can do that, though, I need to replace them all. So I was wondering if you'd go to the store with me to let me know if something's ugly or not. What do you think?"

Parker is silent for a few very long moments.

"There better be coffee when I get there."

"Do you want a lot of coffee or a small bit of coffee and do you want it your usual sweetening or-"

"Just get a pot ready and I'll sugar it up."

"Alright what kind of roast-"

"Be there in fifteen," Parker ends the call.

Awesome. Parker would be really upset if I didn't take him clothes shopping with me. What kind of outfit should I wear, though? I really don't like any of the ones I have right now, though I suppose a simple set of just a pair of black pants and a white button-up shirt would work. But that would make me look too formal so I think I'll go with a pink one. Should I go with a dark pink, a bold pink, or a light pink? Black pants are too formal for that, too. Khakis are the way to go.

This might still be too formal for going clothes shopping, though. Making choices is hard, especially now that I'm not really sure about much.

"Which shirt do you think I should wear?" I hold both shirts up for Parker to see. "I was going to go with the bolder pink but I think that's too bold while the lighter pink isn't that bright but might not mix well with the khakis."

"I left home twenty minutes ago and you still haven't gotten dressed," Parker says before taking a sip of his coffee, which has caramel and chocolate sauce drizzled over whipped cream, which also had cinnamon sprinkled on it. He now has a mustache of whipped cream, which he licks off before speaking again. "It's a good thing I texted your dad and let him know I was on my way."

"Has it really been that long?" I ask. "Sorry. I underestimated how much time had passed. I've apparently reached a point where I can end up even faster than I could before and am still adjusting to it. By the way, did you do something new with your hair? It looks good."

Parker has brown hair and blue eyes, and something about his hair does look different. With summer here, he's also developed a light tan from spending time out in the sun. I've developed a much deeper and more golden tan thanks to the time I spent out in the sun on the island my parents and I just got back from. It makes my electric blue eyes and platinum-blond hair stand out even more, though.

Hm. Parker's dressed in silvery shorts and a blue sleeveless shirt, along with grey-and-blue sneakers. He doesn't look sweaty, though, so he must not have ridden his bike over. We're next-door neighbors but the properties are large and have a fair bit of space between them so he usually either bikes over or gets a ride.

That's not why it took him so long to get here, though. He had to wake up, brush his teeth, get changed, then work up the energy to come over.

"Did your dad bring you over?" I ask.

"There's cloud cover and it's a bit windy so it's cooler outside right now," Parker tells me. "I still biked over. Needed the movement to wake me up more so I'd be prepared for hanging out with you. And… no, I didn't do anything with my hair. It's probably just a little messed up from the wind but still short enough it's not too noticeable, though I think my golden highlights are more visible now."

"Oh, yeah, now you mention it I can see that," I say. "I think I'll go with the green shirt. Should I swap to shorts or still wear the pants? If I swap to shorts, it might be better to switch to a polo or a short-sleeved shirt."

"Green wasn't even one of the options?" Parker mutters in mild confusion.

"Yeah, but I realized that I'm not feeling like wearing pink today."

Parker groans and I slip on a pair of khakis before pulling on the shirt I ended up picking and buttoning it up, then I pull on my belt and slip my feet into some shoes.

"Alright," I say. "Let's go! The car should be ready. Xavier apparently got a new car while I was on vacation so it's going to be our first time riding in it."

"Hold on," Parker says. "Reign in your magic. You're sparking."

"I am?" I look down at my body to try and see the sparks.

Me sparking is an actual concern we have, especially when I start to get a little bit hyper. It's not that I lack control over my magic but that I have so much capacity that it can sometimes manifest on its own if I'm anywhere near full. That's an issue all powerful mages have.

"It's always your hair, you dolt," Parker snorts.

"Oh, right!"

I reach up and start brushing my hair, feeling the light shocks of my magic. It's actual sparks and not some metaphor or comparison – I have a high affinity for lightning magics, something I inherited from both of my parents. Their affinities aren't as high as mine but their bloodlines combining resulted in me having a pretty high one. That's not how it always goes and I could have just as easily been born with almost no magical affinity but I'm kind of glad that didn't happen. I mean, I can tank lightning bolts and if I really wanted to, I could even eat them.

As I fix my hair, I also use my control over my magic to rein it back in and stop the sparks. Once I stop feeling them tickling my hands, I nod to Parker and we leave my room to meet my driver downstairs.

"Bye, Dad!" I wave to my dad, who's doing something in the kitchen. "Parker and I are going to go get me some new clothes! I'm going to donate my old ones to the relief efforts so that some of the boys who lost their clothes can have new ones. We'll be back by lunch."

"Which probably means dinner," Dad mutters.

"Bye!"

During the ride to the store, I start telling Parker about my vacation and all of the stuff that happened on the islands. Since he seems interested, I continue even as we try on clothes, though I do take breaks to let him know the outfit clashed. Hot pink with neon blue? Eugh! Jeez. Parker should never go clothes shopping alone, he has no sense of style. Pink and blue can go together but it needs to be the right shades.

"Thanks," Parker says.

"You're welcome," I tell him as I return to looking through the clothes. "And then while we were at the beach, I met this girl named Gina. She's our age. And we were hanging out and even went to get lunch together because our parents were talking about some business thing that bored us and we were hungry, then she was talking to me and at one point got mad because I wasn't contributing much to the conversation-"

"That's a shocker."

"Right?" I shake my head at him so he knows that shirt is a bad idea. Whoever designed it should be shocked with lightning five or six tens. "But it was mostly because I had zero clue what she was talking about so I was trying to find a way to contribute to a topic I didn't know. I mean, how am I supposed to know anything about math-based transmutation? It sounds like some esoteric form of magic – I looked it up and it's even worse than that, it doesn't even work most of the time because transmutation isn't putting numbers together – and that's not really my field of magic. Lightning is. Ask me any question about lightning magic and I'll probably even beat a master. Put me on a game show, I'll zap them out of the water! Which isn't really something I should ever do, but it was kind of an accident."

"Always is," Parker holds up a shirt and I nod.

"Yeah," I say. "So anyway, Gina switched to talking about baseball so I tried looking up stuff on my phone about baseball so that I could contribute to that conversation and she got mad at me for being on my phone! I couldn't win with her, it was annoying. What made it worse was that she was on her phone all the time, too. Double standards, am I right? Like, seriously girl? You're going to tell me off for being on my phone so that I could look up stuff so that I could contribute to the conversation but simultaneously be on your phone texted every thirty seconds? Puh-lease! Get a life!"

"Must have been real frustrating."

"It was," I say. "I didn't like hanging out with her very much. You can't just go all hypocritical on someone like that. At least I was making an effort to participate. Parker, I don't like any of the clothes here."

"We can try another store," he tells me. "Just let me try these on first to see if they fit and if I like them."

"Okay," I say. "Gina was a twin, by the way, and she had a brother. He was more boring than her but I still liked hanging out with him. All he really care about was playing basketball or beach volleyball or going swimming. Magic didn't interest him at all and he didn't get mad at me for looking up stuff about basketball so that I could try to engage with him. But it was still really boring. Not sure why I liked hanging out with him more since I actually liked talking about magic with Gina. That was really weird and confusing."

"I can imagine," Parker says, then his tone shifts. "Going to go try these on now."

"Let me see how they look!"

After Parker decides all of the clothes he picked out fit him and look nice on him, he pays for his stuff and we leave, meeting my driver at the car. Parker's purchases are loaded into the trunk, then we're off to the next store.

I really hope I can find some clothes that I like, I want to be comfortable with myself again.