I rise groggily from the chair, momentarily unsure of where I am. I must have been napping for only a few minutes. It takes me a few seconds to decide where to find the door back to the entry hall. Again, I hear the same screech for help, not too high-pitched but an undertone of gruffness as well. I run through the door, almost tripping into my bags. I really need to move them.
I look up the staircase, and I see Sam hobbling along. His hair is sticking out the collar of an Oxford shirt. His arms are flailing about as the sleeves are pulled tight around the shoulders and elbows. Only a button or two are still in place, but they are preventing the shirt from coming down any further.
"Stop Sam! You'll trip down the stairs. I'll come up to you."
Just as I was asking him to stop, the final buttons pop loose allowing Sam to see again. One of the buttons slowly rolls down the stairs to land at my feet.
"What happened?" I ask while trying not to laugh. Sam takes a few steps down before he decides to answer.
"After I woke up from my nap, I wanted to start getting ready for that 'event' we are going to," Sam creaked. At least it is trying to get deeper. "I thought that I should wear something dressy. However, I knew the shirt I was wearing from the funeral was too small, so I tried on one of my other ones. I slipped it over my head, but it got stuck. I tried to get you to come up, but you must not of heard me. So, I went to get you, and you saw what happened." Sam was looking down at his feet by this time, embarrassed yet again. It hurt that I wanted to laugh.
"Dude," I say while barely keeping a straight face, "How old is that shirt?"
"I was wearing it last fall. It was kind of snug then, so I thought I still might be able to wear it," was Sam's reply.
"Uh, you're at least six inches taller now. There was no way that shirt was going to fit. Maybe if it had been a tee, it would have worked, but this, no."
I look up at him, two or three steps above me. His chest and belly are fully exposed, while his arms are bare from just past the elbows to his wrist. Even from here, I can just barely see the start of hairs crawling up to his navel. No chest hairs yet, but I didn't expect any. Almost to the man, not a single one of my classmates got their chest hair until well after their growth spurts ended. Pete was the exception, but we were pretty sure that he had been held back a year in grade school. With his late year birthdate, it was possible to go either way. He was pretty much the only guy in our freshman year to have a full chest of hair. He was even shaving every day by our sophomore year. I didn't get chest hair until college. Same for shaving every day. If Sam was still this smooth, I guess he's going to keep growing for awhile.
"You don't have any other shirts that are larger, do you?"
"Nope. Probably not," he snaps. Awfully fast to reply.
"I thought so. Luckily, I come prepared." I open one of my bags and pull out two hangers. Yes, I packed my shirts while still on hangers. It makes unpacking easier, especially when I didn't pack too much. "We're almost the same height, now. You still need to fill out a bit in the chest and shoulders, but you've already lost a lot of the baby fat from fueling your growth spurt. These are slimmer fit, so they should look okay on you and not look like you're wearing your da... someone else's clothes. Just pick one and roll up the cuffs."
Sam immediately picks the white on in my left hand. "That one. Why would anyone wear that hideous thing." Sam points to the shirt in my right hand.
"Hey. This is my favorite shirt. You should be honored to get the chance to wear it." The dress shirt was covered in multiple colored vertical stripes. Mostly browns, with white and navy, and a few others. I bought it the last time I went shopping with my mom, just before I started my second year of college. She wanted me to dress more in the way she thought I should look, but I knew that wasn't my style. When I saw this shirt, I knew it was for me, especially since it was on sale. My mom tried to talk me out of it, but I wouldn't budge. I even had to use my own money for it. My mom wouldn't use any of hers, even though she said she would be buying them for me. From that day on, I never went clothes shopping with my mom again. I still love the shirt, even if it has gone a little out of style and the top button is missing. Blue Homestead is fairly casual, so I can leave that unbuttoned most days anyway, and a tie covers it on those days when I need one, so no big deal.
"Here, take the white and put it on. Wear the chinos we got, at least we know they fit. You'll have to wear you sneakers, but it can't be helped. This thing doesn't sound like it will be that formal anyway. No tie. That will complete the look."
"Thanks," Sam replies, almost glumly. "You better start cleaning up too. I guess I better show you where to go."
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