DAZED AND CONFUSED | VANCE HOPPER

.Chapter 04.

THE BOY CONTINUED TO STARE as he walked himself up to my window, to which I rolled down without hesitation. It was a rusted crank, so it took a few seconds.

"What the Hell do you want?" He spat, leaning into the opening, dangerously close to my face.

I blinked. "I, uh, I wanted to buy a Three Musketeers?"

He stared at me, dumbfounded, curls falling over his eyes. "From me?"

"No, dipshit. The general store!" I unbuckled my seatbelt and pushed open the car door, despite him blocking it.

The handle must've been at perfect height, because the boy had curled over himself, grunting. "Stupid bitch,"

I grinned, locking Penny Lane up. "You bet."

Continuing to storefront, I noticed posters advertising what they sell, cigarette and snack wise. There looked to be no more than five isles, but the walls were covered in shelves. It looked sketchy, sure, but nothing compared to New Jersey. When I stepped in, I was hit with the strong odor of musk and ash, with a hint of beer.

It took less than five seconds for me to notice the vacant pinball machine to the right, pressed against the wall, in all of its cheap, litup glory.

"Holy shit!" It took everything for me not to jump up and down, as I ran through it, rummaging through my purse and pockets for quarters.

"Hey!" The boy called, following after me, anger filling his expression. "What do you think you're doing?"

I grinned, and popped a quarter in the machine. "Beating whatever asshat's score this is."

He furrowed his brow and leaned against the machine. "I'd like to see you try, Red. That's three-hundred-and-twenty-five-thousand you've got to beat."

The ball raced across the board as I sent it flying, hitting obstacles just right to score points, shrugging at his comment. "Yeah, well, my score at home is- was over four-hundred K, so I'm not phased."

I could sense the fear in his eyes as I caught his muscles tense from the corner of my eye. He turned to face me. "What? No fucking way, man. No way some pretty poser girl beat my score in- wherever you're from."

A laugh escaped my lips. "So you think I'm pretty? And it's New Jersey."

"That's not- whatever. Point is, I think you're lying." He crossed his arms.

"Well, Robert Plant wannabe, how about I prove it to you." My fingers worked their magic as I talked, and my eyes followed the trail of the ball as it shot back and forth, racking up my score.

He huffed and relaxed against the large front window, watching my every move.

I stayed at the board for thirty minutes, and he watched as I beat his score, chewing on his nails nervously. I only let the ball score another hundred points before I allowed the game to call me a loser, just to spite the boy.

When I turned to him, his jaw was dropped, and he started to shake the machine. "No way, no fucking way. This shit's gotta be rigged!"

I mocked a crying child and laughed. "Aw, is the big and scary curly boy upset that he lost to a girl?"

A muscle in his face twitched, and he shoved the machine, standing up straight to look down at me, silently.

I stared back, making this a contest. Whoever this boy was, no matter who, or how, I've decided, that in this very moment, this second in time, that we are rivals. Ma said to make friends, but I'm out here making enemies.

"How'd you do it?" He asked finally, breaking the silence.

I shrugged and pat his shoulder, turning away to search the isles.

He followed, desperately, folding his hands together as if in prayer. "Please! Tell me and I'll buy you a Three Musketeers!"

Raising and eyebrow, I grabbed two off of the shelf.

He huffed. "Fine, two bars, and you'll spill?"

"Two chocolate bars and a pop, or there's no deal." I challenged, making my way to the cooler to grab a glass-bottle Crush.

"Jesus, lady! Fine, fine. Just-" the boy sighed and took the candy and soda from me, setting them on the counter.

The cashier gave me a warm smile, and a hot glare to the boy I'd just beat. "Mr. Hopper, that'll be a dollar fifty."

Hopper. So I've got a last name, now.

He pulled a two-dollar bill out of his pocket and passed it over the counter, and the woman handed him two quarters back, to which he shoved in his jean pockets hastily.

"There," Hopper said, handing the plastic bag full of treats to me. "Now, let's talk about this outside."

I followed him out, and watched as he tried to sit on the hood of Penny Lane.

"No, no! No! Jesus, man! That's my fucking baby! Get your grimy ass off of her!" I shooed him with my hands, and unlocked the car.

"What? This piece of shit? You care about it?" Hopper asked, leaning into my window again.

I wanted to punch him right where it matters, but I already did that today, so it'll have to wait. "Get in the car, I have AC, and don't want to melt in the sun."

"Looks like you already have," he joked, motioning to the freckles that covered my face and legs where he could see as he climed into the passenger seat.

"Do you want my secrets, or no?" I asked, impatient as I popped the cap off of my Crush with the bottle-opener screwed to my dashboard.

Hopper straightened up, fixing his too-small Mötörhead T-shirt. "I do, I do."

"Tell me your name first," I took a swig.

He shook his head. "What the fuck is this, an ice breaker? Just tell me your goddamn secret!"

"Tell. Me. Your name. Or no deal." I made it sound as sweet as possible with an edge to my words.

"Vance," the boy said. "Vance Hopper."

I held my hand out. "Vivian," I mocked. "Vivian Wiley."