I walk over and see two men bringing in bags and then more bags and then more bags. “What’s going on?”

“It’s not pizza,” Dylan says from the fridge, eating another cheese stick.

“There are about fifty bags,” one of them jokes with Justin.

“Fifty in this trip. There are still a couple more downstairs,” the other one says.

“Take your time,” Justin says to the two men, and I sit on the stool watching.

“Justin, you bought so much stuff,” Dylan says, coming to sit on the stool next to me. “Is it your birthday?” he asks, and my head swings to Justin, and my heart sinks. What if today was his birthday, and I didn’t know?

“Not my birthday.” He smiles, and the men come in again.

“This is all of it,” he says and smiles at us and then walks out.

“What is it?” Dylan asks, and then Justin looks down at the floor and then looks up again. I can tell he’s nervous, and I have no idea why.

“So I know that you haven’t been able to get your stuff from your place. And I know how cool your old stuff was,” he says, and I have a sinking feeling I know where this is going. “And well, since I forgot to take you to pick up any things.” He looks at me, his eyes pleading with me. “I called my sister, who is a professional shopper.”

“You bought us new things?” Dylan asks, getting up and checking in the bags.

“Just a couple of things,” he says, looking at Dylan and putting his hand on Dylan’s shoulder. “It’s just to hold you over until I can take you back to your house to get your things.”

“Cool,” he says, and then Justin looks at me.

“I got you a couple of things also,” he says, and I look from him to the bags and then back to him again.

“A couple?” I look at the bags.

“I mean, I told her to get you a couple of things.” He smiles. “This”—he points at everything—“is the exaggeration that is my family.”

“Oh, cool, look,” Dylan says and takes out a pair of new shoes.

“You can return some of it,” I say. “Or most of it.”

“What?” Dylan shrieks. “Why? Look at all these new clothes.”

He starts taking stuff out of the bags—shorts, shirts, bathing suit. “Can we go to the pool?”

“Yeah, after we eat, we can hit it up,” Justin says and walks over to me. “Please don’t be mad,” he says softly, and I look up at him. “I swear I told her to only get you a couple of things.”

“I’m even afraid to look in the bags,” I say the truth. “I don’t need all that.”