AN: So sorry its taken so long to update, life got crazy. Also, apologies in advance that this chapter isn't super long, there should be more here, but I wanted to get out what I had finished since you've all been waiting. I promise not to take so long to update next time :)
It had been a long night and 8:30 was far too early to be up on a Saturday, but Aly was awake now and there was no going back to sleep when Becca had the tv volume up so loud. Skipping down the steps, she grabbed the banister and swung herself off the bottom stair and toward the kitchen. She made it halfway across the kitchen, one hand up rubbing the sleep from her eye, when a voice from the corner caused her to stop short.
"If any other teenage girl came strolling into my kitchen at this hour, wearing a pair of my son's boxers and his ratty old t-shirt, I would be forcibly throwing her from my house." Aly spun on her heel to find Mrs. Puckerman sitting at the kitchen table, one eyebrow raised. "You're lucky I like you so much, Amanda."
Now it was Aly's turn to raise an eyebrow, "The shiksa's gone, Aviva, you can stop cut the 'Amanda' crap now." Aviva simply laughed as Aly turned back around and began pulling things out of the cabinets to make breakfast. "Has Becca eaten yet? I was going to make pancakes."
"No, she's been plopped in front of the television since I came down thirty minutes ago. I take it Noah is still asleep."
"Yeah, he, uh, got away from me a little last night," Aly cringed, her back still to the elder Puckerman as she mixed pancake batter, "he may have had a little more to drink than he should have..."
"How much more?" Aviva asked on a sigh.
"Well, he wasn't throwing up or anything, but I did have to half carry him upstairs. I'm surprised you didn't hear us. He isn't exactly a quiet drunk."
"He knows he has community service today, doesn't he?"
"Yes, but he doesn't have to be at the soup kitchen until 11:30," Aly replied, turning around to face Aviva after pouring the first pancake into the skillet. "And I'm taking Becca shopping while you're at work, right?"
"If you think you're up for it...," Aviva started to say, but stopped at the look Aly was giving her, "You have no idea how happy I am that you're finally home for good, sweetheart. And, yes, you are taking her shopping, specifically for shoes, she burns holes in her sneakers faster than I can buy them."
Either the smell of pancakes or the sound of voices finally broke through the haze both Puckerman children were in. Becca came tearing into the kitchen slamming straight into Aly and wrapping her tiny arms around Aly's waist in a death grip far stronger than any 8-year-old should be capable. Aly simply patted her on the back a few times and continued her work at the stove, much to Mrs. Puckerman's amusement.
"Brat, quit trying to squeeze her to death while she's cooking." Puck commanded a few minutes later as he came shuffling into the room clearly still half asleep. He pried Becca off of Aly and wrapped his own arms around her waist from behind. "Morning, Babe," he mumbled before leaning down and kissing her at the spot where her shoulder met her neck.
"Noah," Aly half whispered, amused, "your mother is sitting at the table right behind us."
Puck jumped back from her as if she had burned him, causing all three girls to laugh out loud. "I hate you all," he muttered before slumping down into an empty chair and scowling at the table.
"Rebecca Lynne Puckerman, get over here and try these shoes on right now, or I promise when we get home I will tie you to your bed and leave you there for the rest of the day!" The girl had been running up and down every aisle in the store non stop since they got there. "I swear, between you and your brother it is a miracle your mother doesn't have more gray hair," Aly muttered, hooking Becca around the waist the next time she tried to run past, and depositing her on a bench. "What do you think? These cool enough?" She asked holding up a pair of black high top converse sneakers in front of the little girl.
"Are they the exactly the same as yours?"
"Yep."
"Can I get the purple ones too?" Becca asked, cocking her head to the side and blinking up at Aly repeatedly.
"For you? Of course," Aly paused in the process of making sure the shoes fit to glance up and wink at her. "One pair of black and one pair of purple sneakers, you still have everything else you wanted?"
"It's all right here," Becca replied holding up two fists full of clothing. A couple of pairs of jeans in one hand, a sweater and a t-shirt that read "Save the drama for your mama" in the other.
All of Becca's clothes plus the few things Aly picked up for herself totaled close to two hundred dollars, and when she pulled her card out to hand the cashier Becca spoke up. "Aly, didn't Mom give you fifty dollars to pay for my stuff?"
"She did," Aly answered signing the receipt.
"So why did we spend so much more, and why didn't we use her money?"
"Becca," Aly sighed, grabbing their bags and pulling Becca off to the side out of the way of the other shoppers. She crouched down so she could look the younger girl in the eye, "You know my family is kinda rich, right?" She paused, waiting for the nod she got in response, "Okay, so for the past few years, when ever your mom gives me money, to take you shopping or to pay for dinner or whatever, I use my money and put what she gives me in the empty coffee can in the kitchen. You know, the one she puts emergency money in."
"Does Noah know you do that?"
"Yes, he does it too, when he can. But your mom doesn't know, or, well, we don't think she knows. So if she asks how we bought so much stuff today, you tell her we found a really good sale, okay?"
"Got it. Don't worry, Al, I'm real good at keeping secrets, just ask Noah."