"We're going to your house," Gramps said. "We've got to get some clothes on you."
"I...uh...I'm not sure..."
"What?"
"I'm not sure that's such a great idea."
"Why not? Look at you. You're shivering."
"M-My family, they're not the..."
"What? What's wrong with them?"
"They're a little...a little...you'll see."
Trevor hoped no one would be home, but, of course, that was never true, so why would it be now? And, sure enough, there was the "family" car, a thirty year old Ford that hardly ever ran anymore in front of their apartment building where it always was. The drapes were drawn.
"I...I don't think I can do this," Trevor said.
"No, I'm sorry. There's no choice. We don't have time to go to a store to buy you..."
"No no, I don't mean..."
"Time is tight, Trevor."
"No, you're getting...Look, it's not that I don't want to do it. It's that I don't think I'll be able to do it. You see, I've got this brother, this younger brother. He doesn't go to school, he stays at home all day with dad, but he...you can't..."
"Just go in, grab some clothes and shoes, and come right back out again. It shouldn't take more than a single minute. I'm going in with you. There shouldn't be any trouble."
Trevor snorted.
"You don't know my family," he said.