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"What's up with you? Why are you acting like this?" I ask as soon as we're alone.
"Why are you letting him touch you like that?" she demands. "Lana, that's not you."
"Hey! You're the one who has me sitting on his lap, and if you felt what I felt, you wouldn't be so judgy right now." I clamp my mouth shut, realizing how wrong that sounded.
"You're right. It's my fault," she admits, leaning back against the car with her arms crossed. "I set you up. I should have known you'd be an easy lay for him."
"Yeah, it is your fault! Wait ... what? Easy? I'm not easy," I say, completely offended. Then I notice the gleam in her eye. She's fucking with me. "You're a bitch, Tori."
"Just needed you to wake up and stop acting like a slut." Tori smiles and steps toward me, pulling me into a hug. "Remember, he's a dumbass guy. He has to deserve you first. You're not a trophy, Lana."
"Right," I reply, suffocated by her mane.
Tori and I made a pact when we were in fifth grade to always be honest and protect each other, no matter what. And then, in sixth grade, after a stupid argument over who could like Justin Walker, we added that no guy is worth fighting over. Ever. Joey Harrison included.
We're interrupted when the back door opens.
"Your phone beeped." Joey has it in his hand.
I take it from him. "Thanks." I pat my jacket pocket and find it open. Thankfully, the switchblade didn't fall out too.
I enter my passcode to read the text from my mother. Could you pick up some flu medicine while you're out?
The flu? I hesitate before responding. We both know this isn't the flu. But maybe she just needs something for the symptoms.
I type back, Okay.
Then I slip the phone back in my pocket and zip it up.
"Everything alright?" Joey asks, his brows drawn together in concern.
"Uh"--I force a smile--"I just need to pick up something for my mother. I'll be right back."
I can tell he's about to ask me a question, so I turn away quickly, leaving him standing outside the car, watching me walk away.
I pull open the grime-covered door and freeze after taking just three steps.
I stare at the small silver gun. I don't know what make it is, but it's one of those kinds where the barrel opens up, and the bullets are loaded one at a time. Holding the gun is a big guy wearing a black leather jacket with a scarf pulled up over his nose and a hoodie covering his head.
"What the hell are you doing in here?!" Vic yells at me.
I look from the gun to the skinny man with the bushy mustache behind the counter, his hands raised. I don't say anything.
The guy behind the counter anxiously flips his unblinking eyes between us. I look from him back to Vic. Vic shakes his head at me before focusing on the cashier.
"Hurry up!" Vic yells at the guy, who grabs cash from the register and shoves it across the counter. "And pull out a bunch of lottery tickets too!" Vic demands, forcing his voice to be deeper than it is. "Slowly!" he warns the man.
The cashier reaches his shaking hands to pull at the lottery tickets hanging on the wall behind the counter. He tears off a long string and offers them to Vic.
"Give them to her," Vic demands, waving the gun toward me.
"What?!" I yell. "I don't want anything to do with your dumbass robbery! I'm not touching them."
Vic aims the gun at my chest. "Take the fucking tickets."
I'm not nervous or scared. I'm more annoyed than anything. Why did I have to walk in on this dipwad robbing the convenience store? I bet he's going to walk away with barely two hundred dollars. He's such a fricken idiot.
"Fine." I snatch the trail of tickets from the clerk and fold them up, grumbling, "Asshole," under my breath. I shove them in my inside pocket. "Can we leave now?"
