Chapter 3

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Chapter 3

 

Chapter 3: Pickles          

                I walked into Walmart looking for pickles.  Pickles! Pickles! I want pickles! It’s Friday night and I haven’t had pickles in a long time. Pickles! Pickles! Mmhhh I want pickles! First Friday night I haven’t been beaten I spend it reaching for pickles. Bingo! I found the pickle section! Ahhh yahh!

                I grabbed five jars of pickles. I grinned. I turned around to see Noah, Jack, Jordan, and Dylan. Jordan and Jack were holding hands. I turned around trying to go unseen but I tripped over my own feet and did a face plant into the floor. Lucky me the pickles are fine.

                “Val?” Jordan asked.

                “Huh?” I asked rubbing me face.

                “Oh my gosh that is you Val! Are you all right?” Jordan asked running over to me.

                “Just peachy,” I said with an eye roll.

                “What are you doing here?” she asked.

                “Pickles,” I said holding up one of the jars. She laughed and shook her head. Dylan walked over to me and held out his hand. I raised my hand and he pulled me up as if I weighted nothing. Then I bent down gathering the pickles again.

                “Are you going home after this?” Dylan asked. I shook my head yes. “Would you like to come out for pizza with us?”

                “I won’t have enough money. I only have enough for the pickles,” I said with a shrug.

                “That’s all right I’ll pay for you,” he said.

                “No,” I said shaking my head, “I don’t take handouts.” That’s one thing my father taught me and to forgive. I saw something flash in his eyes. When I looked in his eyes longer I swear I’ve seen them before but not on his face. I pressed my lips in a straight line.

                “I’m paying,” he growled and grabbed my arm and pulled me with him.

                “Wait, I need the rest of my pickles,” I said. Dylan was starting to scare me.

                “They’ll get them,” Dylan said pointing towards his gang and Jordan. Jordan gave me an apologetic shrug. 

                “My truck,” I said.

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