Chapter Ten: Not The New Guy Anymore

The day after Black Friday was known in BuyMore folklore as “The Great Reckoning.”

The lights always felt a little dimmer, the shelves a little emptier, and the staff a whole lot grumpier. Every aisle bore the wounds of battle: torn price tags, empty boxes, and one suspiciously sticky patch near seasonal décor that no one wanted to investigate.

Eli walked in sore, bruised, but humming.

Not because he wasn’t tired—he absolutely was—but because something had shifted.

He wasn’t just “the new guy” anymore.

He was Eli.

And after surviving his first Black Friday shoulder-to-shoulder with the staff, that meant something.

Marcus greeted him at the time clock with a lazy salute and a grin.

“Look who didn’t call in dead.”

“I had a 60/40 chance,” Eli replied. “But I didn’t want you to miss my charming personality.”

Brenda waddled by with a tray of half-stale donuts and elbowed him in the ribs. “Word is, you survived a double shift, six screaming toddlers, and that coupon lady who swears she once met Beyoncé in this store.”

“She touched my arm,” Eli said solemnly.

Brenda barked a laugh. “You’re officially one of us now.”

It was the highest honor BuyMore had to offer.

The breakroom was quieter than usual, a hush of post-chaos recovery. Callie sat at the far table, sipping coffee and scrolling through her phone. She looked up when Eli entered, and—surprisingly—didn’t roll her eyes.

“Still alive?” she asked.

“Barely.”

He grabbed a mug from the communal shelf (which, admittedly, still smelled faintly of expired soup) and sat across from her.

“You were great yesterday,” she said, eyes not leaving her phone.

Eli paused mid-pour. “Sorry?”

“I said you were great. Don’t make me say it twice.”

“Should I be worried? Is this a prank?”

She finally looked up. “Don’t get used to compliments. I’m still processing the fact that you didn’t cry.”

“Came close during that air fryer stampede.”

“Understandable.”

There was a beat of comfortable silence between them, broken only by Marcus poking his head in.

“Team meeting in five,” he said. “Wes wants us to assess the post-apocalyptic damage.”

Callie groaned.

Eli grinned. “Should I bring my sword?”

Wes stood at the front of the employee floor, his usual clipboard in hand, looking more frazzled than normal. A red stain marked the collar of his shirt—grape juice? Blood? BuyMore mysteries never truly got solved.

“All right, people,” Wes said, clapping once. “You know the drill. Clean-up assignments are posted on the board. Inventory errors go to the bin. And please—please—no more personal shopping on the clock. Looking at you, Brenda.”

Brenda raised her donut defiantly.

Eli checked the posted schedule and felt a flutter of excitement: Floor Reorg — Paired with Callie.

She appeared behind him like a well-timed ghost.

“Try not to slow me down,” she said.

“No promises.”

They started in the electronics section—ground zero for the Black Friday fallout.

Dozens of items had been returned without packaging. Headphones lay tangled like snakes in a basket. Three cardboard cutouts of a smiling toaster mascot had been defaced with marker mustaches.

Callie handed him a bin and a barcode scanner.

“Here,” she said. “Scan, sort, and try not to electrocute yourself.”

“You say that like it’s happened before.”

“Everything has happened here before.”

They worked side by side for hours. The rhythm was easy now. Callie no longer double-checked everything he did. Eli didn’t need to ask about every policy. She handed him a roll of restock labels without comment, and he passed her a damaged-item tag without looking up.

It felt… good.

Natural.

Like he belonged.

Around midday, Marcus wandered over, holding a crushed popcorn machine and looking like he’d aged five years overnight.

“You seriously stayed for the whole shift yesterday?” he asked Eli.

“Sure did.”

“Even during the foam playmat incident?”

“Front row seat.”

Marcus gave a low whistle. “All right, I’ll say it—didn’t think you’d last a week.”

“That makes two of us.”

He offered Eli a rare, approving nod. “You earned your stripes. And probably a mild concussion.”

Callie smirked as Marcus wandered off again.

“High praise,” she said. “Marcus once called me ‘semi-competent’ after three months.”

“I feel honored.”

“You should. The bar’s underground.”

During lunch, Eli found a note taped to his locker door:

TO: ELI

RE: YOUR SURVIVAL

YOU MAY BE A CHAOTIC NIGHTMARE, BUT YOU’RE OUR CHAOTIC NIGHTMARE. WELCOME TO THE CREW.

–BRENDA (AND THE REST OF US WHO VOTED)

P.S. There’s a donut in the breakroom with your name on it. Literally. I used frosting.

He stood there for a minute, grinning like a fool.

It wasn’t fancy. It wasn’t formal.

But it was the first time he felt like he belonged in a long, long time.

By the end of the shift, Callie and Eli had conquered two aisles, three broken handheld scanners, and one mysterious crate of unclaimed Christmas gnomes.

They sat on the floor of aisle sixteen—between storage bins and rogue glitter—eating vending machine pretzels and catching their breath.

“I used to think I’d never last here,” Callie said suddenly.

Eli turned to her.

“I thought I’d crack after month two. Or quit. Or just… fade out.”

“Why didn’t you?”

She glanced at him. “I started helping train new hires. Made me feel useful.”

He smiled. “You’re more than useful.”

“Don’t ruin this moment.”

“Fine.”

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment.

Then Callie said, “You’re not who I thought you’d be.”

“Disappointed?”

She nudged his foot with hers. “Surprised.”

“I’ll take that as progress.”

As they wrapped up the final inventory sheet and returned their gear, Brenda caught them near the supply closet.

“Well, look who’s still standing,” she said.

Callie raised an eyebrow. “Barely.”

Brenda turned to Eli. “Not bad, newbie. You held your own.”

He mock-bowed. “It’s the frosting-based encouragement. Motivated me.”

Brenda smirked. “Good. Because we’ve got a toy drive next week and I just signed you up.”

Eli blinked. “You what now?”

“Team tradition. Newbie leads the charge.”

Callie laughed for real this time.

Eli looked betrayed. “You knew?”

“I might have forgotten to mention it.”

Brenda patted his shoulder. “Congrats, sunshine. You’re officially one of us.”

That night, as they left together, Eli and Callie stood by the bike rack outside, watching the slow blink of streetlights across the parking lot.

“Today felt different,” he said.

“It was.”

“They actually like me.”

“They do.”

“You like me.”

Callie didn’t say anything at first.

Then: “Yeah. I do.”

He turned to her, surprised by the honesty in her voice.

She added, “Still not sure why. But you grew on me. Like moss.”

“Romantic.”

“Don’t get cocky.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

She bumped his shoulder. “See you tomorrow?”

He nodded. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

And as they parted ways, Eli felt something quiet and steady bloom in his chest.

Belonging.

Real, messy, imperfect—but his.

Finally.