“Can you get another adult to come and sign for it?”

I fight to keep my voice level. “No, we don’t have anyone else.”

The parcel person’s gone. Both cashiers are staring at me now.

“My mum asked me to get it. She signed, see?” I point to the signature again. “I’ve got my ID.” I pick it up off the counter and show them, keeping calm, keeping reasonable. Why can’t they just help?

They look at each other. “We just—”

I want to scream at them.

“Oh. Sweetheart. Don’t cry, just get your mum.”

“But I can’t! She’s at work. She asked me to get it.” I wipe at my face, making myself meet their gaze.

“Can you get someone else—”

“There is no one else!” To my horror it comes out in a sob, with a snot bubble. Then, so quiet I don’t know if they can hear: “She signed it.” I point to the signature again. My throat hurts. I try to breathe slowly, to swallow.

The cashier from the other counter gives the one in front of me a look. “I’m going out the back.”

I watch her go. Is she calling someone? What was that look about? I glance back at the lady in front of me. She’s holding the digital signing device.

She looks me in the eyes and speaks very slowly, like I might have trouble understanding her. “It has to be signed right here”—she points to the place on the screen—“with this.” She holds up the stylus. “By an adult.”

The other one comes back and slides an envelope onto the counter next to the stylus and leaves again. I stare at it. It’s addressed to you. I look back up at the woman behind the counter. I think she winks at me; it’s so quick I can’t be sure. She pushes the stylus toward me. “Must be signed.” She gives me a look and knocks the slip onto the floor. “Oh dear, I’d better pick that up.”

Has she gone crazy? She disappears beneath the counter. I stand there. There’s a movement in the door to the back. The other woman’s head pokes out, she waves her hand at me frantically. Does she want me to leave? She makes a writing motion in the air, points at me.

“I just can’t see where this went.” The voice comes up from behind the counter. “For all I know an authorized adult could come in and sign for that and take the envelope and go.”

I step forward, glancing at the head peering around the door again. She nods at me. I pick up the pen thing, waiting for her to tell me off. She smiles and disappears.

I swallow and sign, grab the envelope and get the hell out of there.