I walked behind my mom as she pushed the shopping cart through the endless maze of shelves at the supermarket.
I wanted to leave so badly, so much that I had to resort to grumbling, which I hadn't done since I was ten.
I would rather be in my bed doing nothing, than to be in the supermarket buying groceries.
This isn't how I wanted to spend my weekend.
The fluorescent lights above buzzed faintly, casting an almost clinical glow on the shiny, too-clean floors. My arms hung limply at my sides, a perfect mirror of my mood.
“I don’t even know why I had to come,” I muttered under my breath, dragging my sneakers across the tile.
My mom shot me a look over her shoulder.
“Because you’re grounded, and grounded means no staying at home and lazing around. If I have to run errands, so do
