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The clothes came, and Chris picked out a pair of overalls, a pink T-shirt, and little white ankle-socks with pink frills, and ran to the bathroom to change. "Okay," Lance said, "here's the deal. Justin, you take the rest of these clothes home, and fix a room for him and stuff. And prepare Brit. Joey, you take the dogs. JC, keep trying to reach his family. Please God, reach his family. I'll deal with Johnny." They nodded, and went into action. Lance disappeared into his suit, cellphone open. JC and Joey drove to Chris' house, JC to look through his Rolodex, and Joey to pick up Busta and Korea. Justin waited for Chris to emerge from the bathroom. "You okay in there?" "I'm fine," Chris said, opening the door and bouncing out. "Can we go home now?" "You need shoes first." "Oh. Ooooooh! Shopping!" Justin rolled his eyes. "Come on. Come - what?" Chris was standing in front of him, arms raised. "If I walk on the pavement, I'll get my socks dirty." "You are 12 years old -" "And 26 days!" "-And 26 days. You do *not* need to be carried to a limo." "My socks will get dirty! They're brand new!" "Chris-" "Lance just bought them for me. You're gonna make me get a present from Lance *dirty?!*" "Christopher." "Don't call me that," Chris said, crossing his arms sullenly. "Christopher Alan Kirkpatrick, you get your butt out the door this instant, young lady!" Chris scooted.
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