The peaceful days passed, and Jimmy finally met Leslie's friend—who, by the way, discovered why she hadn't been with him that day.
"So let me get this straight—you didn't invite Leslie to the trip your teacher invited you to? Just the two of you? I guess selfishness really is part of who you are," said Jimmy, who was programming a tree-shaped robot that he would leave behind to protect his friend.
Jessica Oliver, after learning that Leslie had nearly died, felt a deep sense of regret and, for a moment, didn't know what to say.
"She's a really good person. You should tell her when you're ready—she'll probably forgive you. But don't doubt for a second that you're an idiot," Jimmy finished what he was doing and walked away. He talked with Leslie for a bit before leaving.
He had things to do with his family, like going to town to buy souvenirs for their neighbors.
Jimmy didn't really know what kind of interesting things could be bought in this place, but since he needed to spend time with his family to make them feel that he was doing well, there was no other choice than to attend those dreadful events.
As for whether Jessie would eventually tell Leslie about his selfishness, Jimmy honestly didn't care much.
Selfishness is a philosophical concept that claims self-interest is the primary goal of human beings. It encompasses three distinct types: psychological, ethical, and rational egoism—each exploring the implications of self-interest in ethics, empathy, and motivation.
Besides, Jessie was a kid who still didn't understand himself and was definitely not intelligent. That's why Jimmy didn't take it personally—plus, problems like these only slowed down his future projects.
If he wanted to prove to his parents that he was smart and mature, he had to act like it.
…
"What exactly are we supposed to buy in this town? I don't think there's anything interesting to get," Jimmy said to his parents, expecting a reply.
Judy looked at him and said, "I'm sure we'll find some cute things."
Jimmy walked with his arms crossed, eyeing each store in town with the same enthusiasm one gives a math class after lunch.
"How about we just go get some ice cream?" Jimmy muttered without expecting an answer, while his parents stopped to admire some scarves woven in colors that were practically an attack on the eyes.
That's when he saw it: a small, improvised stand made of wood and tarps, with a sign that read, "Collector Cacti – No Returns."
"Cacti?" Jimmy raised an eyebrow. He couldn't miss that.
The seller was a short man with a crooked mustache and a cowboy hat that had clearly seen better days. He had a raspy voice and such a strange energy that Jimmy wondered if the man was about to sell him a plant… or recruit him into a botanical cult.
"Interested in a cactus? This one right here is perfect for guarding your doorstep. It's got spines with attitude," the man said, winking.
Jimmy blinked, confused. "Spines with attitude?"
"Yep. Every time someone touches it, it pricks without mercy. They say it only chooses its owner if they have the soul of a warrior."
"And if someone without one touches it?" Jimmy asked, half smiling.
"They'll probably end up crying. Or in the hospital." The man broke into a cold sweat as he answered each of the curious boy's questions.
Jimmy let out an involuntary laugh. He liked this lunatic—he figured maybe he was part of a cult. He bought a small one that looked more decorative than useful, but still stuffed it into his backpack like it was a relic.
"You really know how to sell. How many people have you fooled today?"
"You, at the very least," the vendor replied with a laugh.
In better spirits now, Jimmy continued walking with his family until, suddenly, he stopped in his tracks. His eyes lit up as if he'd just seen a UFO land.
"No way…"
In front of him was a comic book store. A good one. With glass cases full of action figures, limited edition covers, and a sign that read: "Everything Half Off – Final Day."
Jimmy walked in like someone entering a sacred temple. Within minutes, his arms were full of thick volumes—some he wasn't even sure he'd read, but he absolutely needed to own them.
"Are you sure you need all the Captain Meteor volumes?" Judy asked from the door.
"Need? No. Deserve? Absolutely." Jimmy paid with all the money he had left, happy—almost proud—to have found something useful in this forgotten town.
As he walked out, struggling to carry his bag with more difficulty than dignity, he thought: Maybe this trip wasn't so pointless after all.
And the cactus, from inside his backpack, seemed to prick him on purpose every time he forgot about the journey.