The inside of the McMillan home was even more impressive than the outside, but Jon knew what would happen if he stopped to admire it, so he didn't. He was starting to figure out how to pre-empt any action on the part of the shoes. Don't give in entirely, but act within a certain margin of expectations.
So, without stopping to admire the ornate furniture, or the marble flooring, or the FREAKING CRYSTAL CHANDELIER, Jon said, out loud but to himself, "I don't think anyone would want me tracking dirt through the house. Someone in Sarah's shoes would probably... take them off in the foyer."
Jon waited before actually acting on his statement. There was a pause of several seconds, uncertainty hanging in the air as though it was a second chandelier.
"Alright, I'll let you have that one. I think you're starting to learn."
Jon let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding at the shoes' proclamation, and sat down on the floor to--
"There is a chair right over there, Jon. Have some dignity, and don't make me take back my words."
Jon quickly straightened back up, walked over to a wooden chair with delicately-embroidered upholstery that was next to an end-table, and sat down. He pulled at the chestnut-colored suede Ugg boots in precisely Sarah's--
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING YOU CAN'T JUST GRAB AT ME." Jon felt a shock run from his feet through his whole body once again. "You treat your shoes with care. They are important."
Jon felt his posture shift slightly, but he didn't really feel any different. Maybe the shoes just had to exert their authority one last time before Jon was completely rid of them, as a sort of goodbye. Jon could understand that.
So he acquiesced to their demands, and delicately removed each shoe from each foot, taking care not to bend the leather the wrong way, or to leave any scuffs. But he removed them, and placed them almost reverently onto the floor of the coat closet. Jon smiled at the shoes one last time before sliding the closet door closed.
He was free. He was free! He could do anything now! Unless Sarah came back and did something... but deal with that when it happens. Jon had to savor this moment where his own free will, and his free will alone, dictated his next decision.
Or at least, mostly dictated his next decision. His teachers certainly had some say, and he knew he'd need to start on his homework at some point. May as well get it done while he didn't have a pair of shoes nagging at him about how he was doing it.
It never occurred to Jon, and had someone pointed this out to him, his mind would have come up with some excuse to dismiss it, that he could leave this home and walk to the house he had initially intended to arrive at when he'd left school. He'd walked home already. Task completed. And this was where he had ended up. This was home.
So he hefted his backpack higher onto his shoulders and explored the ground floor of the McMillan house, until he found a small room with a glass-top writing desk, a white swivel chair with pink upholstery, and a pink laptop. This must be where Sarah did her homework. So it was probably a good place for Jon to do his. He dropped his backpack against one of the legs of the desk, sat down in the chair, pulling his right foot underneath his bottom as he did, and started working on the questions his history teacher had given him. As though it was any other schoolday afternoon.
