"That can't be right."
As we had started on our way back home on foot after Shelley had abandoned us, we were telling each other our hilarious childhood memories. He was telling me how one time when he was thirteen, he had confused buttercream for toothpaste because he was half-asleep while brushing his teeth and was confused why his toothpaste tasted the way it did.
"One time I spilled black ink on Aimee's white shirt. It left a huge patch of black in the middle. So, in order to not get in trouble, I decided to paint the entire shirt black. I did it so artistically, she didn't even notice. It was only when Mom did laundry, she found out about the ink."
He laughed, reaching forward to ruffle my hair. "Wow, you are quite the artist."
After Shelley had more or less turned a blind eye to
