Explosive

01 || The Robbery

It smells like summer and something sweet. Breathing in the scent, I drop my gym bag to the ground and sit on the curb, trying to ignore the heat under my shorts. My mom is late again. She probably got held up at work because she asked to take up an extra shift. Shielding my eyes from the sun, I watch the entrance of the empty parking lot for her black car. Soccer practice ended at one, it's almost two.

The coach, a thin woman in her 30s, studies me from her air-conditioned car, waiting for my mom to pick me up. She had offered to drive me home but I had refused, remembering my mom's warning to never enter a stranger's car. But Coach Jones isn't a stranger, I have known her for years but my mom wouldn't agree. In my mom's eyes, everyone is a stranger. I push my gym bag between my feet and put my elbows onto my knees, cradling my face in my hands.

After a few minutes, my mom's 1999 black Honda Civic pulls up into the parking lot. Standing up from the curb, I can't help but frown at the gurgling noise that her car makes when it comes to a stop. The noise is one of the things my mom loves about the car. Me, on the other hand, I worry that the car might fall apart at any moment. Waving at my coach, I slip into the car and immediately open the window.

"I'm so sorry I'm late," my mom says. Her voice is soft and her dark eyes are filled with concern. She's wearing all black, the uniform she's required to wear at the café she works at.

"It's cool," I say, clicking my belt into place and dropping my bag at the back.

"You're awesome," my mom sings as we leave the parking lot. "Is it just me or is it too hot for this late in August?" she adds. I nod. Even in my shorts, it feels like I'm boiling under the sun. Earlier this summer my best friend, Emily, had called shotgun, which led to her being allowed to adjust the AC settings. She ended up breaking it. Leaning against my seat, I watch the trees whiz by as we ride past them. We're going in the opposite direction to our apartment building, towards the edge of town. "How was practice?" my mom asks.

"It was good. You're coming to the game, right?" She bites her lip and then finally nods. We begin to slow down and turn toward an area scattered with a few abandoned buildings. Between two of them is a small shop that my mom and I discovered a year back called Pit Stop. My mom had laughed, saying that it was a terrible place to set up a store. I had agreed. The shop is on a dead-end street and has been long forgotten. Unfortunately, our apartment building is closer to Pit Stop than the local Wal-Mart.

"I have to get some milk. You want something?" I grin at her and she rolls her eyes as she mumbles, "Fine, I'll get you an Oh Henry!" My mom disappears into the store and after a few minutes, I run after her. It's quiet in the store except for the hum of the AC. The cold air feels good and I let out a sigh of relief, glad to be out of the heat. Inside it's empty except for an elderly couple who are strolling an aisle. A kid around 6, angrily follows them, stomping his feet all the way.

Grabbing two chocolate bars from the front, I carefully place them on the counter and lean against it. My necklace digs into my skin. "Haven't seen you in a while," the chunky man at the at the front says. Before looking away I give him a smile, not knowing what else to say. When the old couple comes to the counter, I turn to look at the young boy trailing after them. While they pay, I make funny faces at him, trying to make him laugh. At first, he glares at me but then he smirks and looks away.

Hearing the bell above the door make a soft noise, I turn my lazy gaze toward the sound. A weight drops in my stomach. Three masked men charge through the door like wild animals on a rampage. They're all wearing thick, woolly caps over their faces. The taller one of the three roughly points a gleaming black pistol at the clerk. "Don't move!" he yells.

One of them waves his small gun around the store, his body tense and awkward. "Anyone who calls the police will die!" He has a shaky voice and sounds young. Screams echo through the store as the terrified couple falls to the floor with their hands on their heads, pulling the kid down with them. My eyes find my mom's as I drop to the floor. Following everybody, she also falls to the floor. The bag of milk lays abandoned beside her.