by Natasha West
‘I hate my life! And it’s all your fault!’
‘We all hate our lives sometimes. It’s part of being an adult’ Vera said coldly. She turned on her heels, never able to resist a good exit line, and walked out of the shop.
Molly watched her leave and climb into her car. And then she turned around to see Jamie and Max, Pig and Clown, waiting to rob her.
And she wasn’t having it. Not at all.
She was brim full of anger at her Mother, because she was the reason Molly was stuck in this place and she’d been warning her that this very thing could happen. And now it was. These two people had walked in and pointed a gun at her. And they probably thought she’d drop to her knees and beg for her life. But what kind of life was it to beg for?
‘And what the hell do you want?’ Molly asked her wannabee robbers. The question was aimed more at the Pig. This woman who was not much bigger than she was. Molly thought she might even have an inch or two on her. Who did she think she was to walk in here and try and frighten Molly like this?
The Pig, Jamie, looked at her accomplice, expressing the question ‘What now?’ with a glance. But Max was no help. His response was a shrug.
Molly watched the small exchange and she was emboldened by it. She actually had them on the ropes.
‘Well?! What do you want? Because unless you’ve come in here to buy something, you can piss off!’
Jamie’s voice finally woke up.
‘Hey! Till girl! Do you see this?’ Jamie shouted, trying to sound menacing as she waved her gun. ‘Do you know what it does?’
But it had been a mistake to engage with Molly. It only fuelled her.
‘Are you asking me if I’m stupid? Because I’m not the one robbing a shop after the till money was collected a couple of hours ago, moron!’ Molly said with a snarky laugh.
Max put his head in his hands. This had been a stupid idea from the start. He’d only gone along with it in a crazy moment of panic. And now they just needed to get out of there, before the police showed up for the second time that night. He began to pull on Jamie’s arm.
But Jamie was feeling a bit foolish. And when Jamie knew she’d made a mistake, she tended to dig her heels in even more. She wasn’t leaving without something. She yanked her arm from Max’s grip and glanced around wildly, spotting a free standing cash machine in the corner.
‘What about that?’ she demanded of Molly.
‘It charges £1.50 to use it but knock yourself out’ Molly replied drolly.
‘Hilarious. Now open it’ Jamie demanded.
‘We don’t have the keys. There’s a security company that comes once a week. Only they can open it to refill it’ Molly explained. She’d had enough of this now. The Pig had been a magnificent place to direct some anger but Molly was becoming more aware of the reality of the situation. There was a gun on her.
‘I don’t believe you’ Jamie said. But actually, she did.
In fact, when Jamie had asked about the cash machine, part of her had known that would be the answer. But Jamie had gotten herself snarled up in a difficult situation, full of actual problems and Jamie problems. It was a bad combination. The real world problem was the thing with her Dad and Max. He’d be angry, possibly mad enough to throw them both out. And she thought there was a possibility that she might land on her feet. But Max was a different animal to her. She didn’t know if he’d cope.
But alongside that, the problem in Jamie’s head, was dented pride. It wasn’t just the potential shit-fit her Dad would throw. She’d failed. She’d failed herself. And she’d failed Max. Yes, he hadn’t done what he was supposed to and bribed the guard. But Jamie still felt the failing had been on her side. She should have made sure he’d done it. As older sister, that was her job.
Now she was about to fail again. Because of that, some part of Jamie wouldn’t let her back down. And the girl that had just proven she was stupid, in front of her brother, had unknowingly hit a nerve.
‘Believe what you like. But that won’t make it so. Just get out, will ya?’ Molly said, thinking it was a finishing statement.
But it wasn’t over. Not at all.
‘Hey!’ Jamie yelled, her temper rising, causing her to drop her gun arm ‘You don’t tell me what to do. I tell you what to do!’
It was unfortunate phrasing, considering the conversation Molly had just had with her Mother.
‘Why’s that, then?’ Because you’ve got a gun?’ she shouted at the Pig.
‘Pretty much’ Jamie yelled back.
‘Well, I don’t give a damn. So what else have you got?’
Max watched Jamie’s small pause and knew there was trouble on the horizon. And he wasn’t wrong. Jamie, wanting to be able to speak properly without plastic covering her mouth, as well as looking the girl on the till in the eye while they had this out, ripped her mask off.
Well, shit Max thought.
Molly was shocked. The girl underneath the mask wasn’t what she’d been expecting. She had long, glossy, blonde hair and the face of an angel. Although clearly not the temperament of one. But more surprising than that was the fact that she’d showed her pretty face at all. What the hell kind of criminals were these two?
‘You know what?’ Jamie said. ‘I’m sick of this. Just open the till, would you? I’ll take whatever you’ve got.’
That made Molly remember the button underneath the till, the alarm. It wasn’t linked to the police like some alarms were. Vera had decided that was an unnecessary expense. But it was loud. And it would draw attention. All Molly had to do was go along with the blonde girl and she could hit the button. It might be enough to scare them off.
But she didn’t.
‘I’m not opening the till, Piggy. I will never open this till. Not even if you shoot me in the kneecaps.’
Jamie shook her head in disbelief.
‘What the fuck is your problem? You’re willing to get seriously hurt, maybe even die, for a tiny bit of money.’
I’m not. But I’m also not willing to let you tell me what to do. So you decide what you want to do about that.’
Jamie looked to Max. He was pleading with his eyes. He wanted to go. And he was right. This was a bust. It was time for Jamie to leave with her tail between her legs, the second fiasco of the night under her belt. It killed her to look at it this way, but there wasn’t any other way to see it. Time to go home and see if there was any way she could talk her Dad out of kicking them out. She might have to do some serious grovelling, which was not exactly in her skillset. But Till Girl was tough as old boots. Jamie had no choice but to let go of this mad plan and let the night spiral further into the disaster it apparently could not be saved from.
‘Alright-’ Jamie began.
‘FREEZE!’ shouted a new voice.
Everyone turned to see that a gingery boy of about sixteen, wearing a red school jumper, holding a can of hairspray in one hand and a lighter in the other, had leapt out from behind a shelving unit.
‘This is a homemade flame thrower!’ he yelled, his voice quivering. ‘So get out before I burn all your hair off!’
No one moved.
Three
The teenage boy, Henry O’Donnell, had been hiding in the back of the shop, next to the beans, listening to the robbery. He’d even been there through Molly’s argument with her Mother. But why? Why had he stayed back there throughout what appeared to be an armed robbery? Why didn’t he creep out while everyone’s backs were turned? Or even make a dash for it if he wasn’t confident in his ninja skills?
Quite simply, for love.
Henry O’Donnell came into the Quick Snack Mini-Mart every single day. And every day, Molly Kaminski served him, barely looking up from whatever book she happened to be reading. So of course, Henry fell deeply, passionately in love with her.
She was a cross section of things he liked. Firstly, she was always reading, which Henry took to mean she was clever. Secondly, she was very pretty but she didn’t make a big deal of it. She was never par
ticularly coiffed and always had her thick chestnut brown hair pulled back in an unassuming ponytail. Henry felt that indicated depth. Thirdly, he saw her every day. Those three facts made him a goner.
Months of mooning had been all well and good but recently, Henry had decided that the fantasy wasn’t enough. He was going to try and turn it into reality.
And so he’d decided that tonight was the night he would express his love. He knew he was a bit younger than Molly. And he knew he wasn’t the coolest boy. Nor the most handsome. And a bit on the weedy side. But he and Molly were destined to be together. Surely Molly would recognise that, when he professed his love? The profundity of his feelings had to be enough to win her over.
Henry had managed to figure out (from an amount of observation that walked just up to the line of stalking without ever quite crossing it) that she worked till midnight on a Thursday, and he’d snuck out of his house half an hour ago, avoiding parental detection. Because he’d decided that when she finished her shift, he’d be there, ready to ask her out. So he slipped into Quick Snack and waited. Molly didn’t seem to notice him. But Henry didn’t mind that. It was all part of their little chess game.
He’d been in the middle of psyching himself up for the big reveal, tucked away in the back, when Molly’s Mum had shown up and started a blazing row with her. Henry had begun to wonder at that point if this was really the best moment to romance her. He’d been trying to figure out how best to sneak out without Molly seeing him so he could try again another night. And then he heard the robbers.
A lot of boys would have legged it. But not Henry. He was a romantic in the way that only a teenager can be. His feelings had taken him beyond all logic and indeed, good sense. And his one true love was in peril. Surely, if he saved the day, what else could she do but fall into his heroic arms?
But they had a gun and he had nothing except the lighter he kept for melting the odd pen. When he saw the hairspray on a low shelf, inspiration had struck. Action heroes were always knocking together crazy weapons from whatever was around and then wading in, muscles glistening with the sweat of bravery. Maybe Henry didn’t quite have the muscles yet, but the weapon bit was easy-peasy. Soon he had a homemade flame thrower, ready to go. He was half scared, half excited.
He’d held his weapon and summoned all the nerve he could muster, while he listened to Molly trying to fight through the terror she must be feeling, waiting to be rescued. And when the argument had reached its zenith, out Henry jumped, screaming his threat about making the robbers bald.
But they weren’t reacting as he’d hoped. The girl with the gun was looking at him like he was a fly she’d like to swat. And Molly? She was looking at him as though he were, well, a teenage boy holding some hairspray and a lighter.
Henry wished dearly at that moment that he’d stayed in bed, playing Candy Crush on his phone. But it was too late. He’d committed.
‘Did you hear me?!’ Henry shouted, trying to sound as manly as he could manage.
The Clown turned to him and took off his mask. He was blonde, like the gunwoman. He looked kind of dopey but there was kindness in his blue eyes. He looked tired.
‘Yes, we heard you’ Max said to the boy. The situation had been at the point of peaceful resolution. And this kid was going to screw it up with hair product. ‘But there’s no dramas. We’re probably gonna head off now. So no one needs to lose an eyebrow, yeah?’
Henry didn’t believe him. It had to be a trick to make him drop his guard.
‘Alright then’ Henry said, readying his can and flicking on the lighter. ‘Get out now and no one gets hurt-’
‘Oi’ Molly suddenly shouted. ‘Put that down, would you? You’re gonna set the shop on fire.’
Henry, who’d been midway through a speech he’d heard in pretty much every cinematic bank robbery he’d ever seen, was thrown.
‘What?!’
‘Turn that lighter OFF!’ Molly said sternly.
‘But, but, but…’ Henry stammered, wounded. Why was Molly being so mean? He was here to help her.
‘Why don’t you just get out of here, little boy’ Molly said with a nod at the door, done with him.
Little boy? Did she not even know his name? He was Henry O’Donnell, her one true love, her daring rescuer. How could she talk to him like he was a toddler that had knocked over a display of cornflakes?
‘Molly! We have to get them out of here. They’re dangerous!’ Henry appealed, desperate to give her another chance to get behind his audacious rescue.
‘How do you know my name?’ Molly asked, somewhat surprised.
Jamie decided she’d been listening to this for long enough.
‘Right, you little fucker. The show’s over. Go home. No one’s got time for this’ she said to Henry.
‘Everyone should leave’ Molly amended, glaring at Jamie.
‘I’ve still got a gun, ya know’ Jamie reminded her, waving the toy pistol.
But as she waved it, it slipped out of her hand and skittered across the floor, landing with a bump against the bottom of a shelving unit full of biscuits. It sounded unmistakably plastic and hollow. Jamie prayed that Molly hadn’t properly heard it.
‘Oh my god!’ Molly cried. ‘Is that plastic?!’
She walked out from behind the till and Jamie, Max and Henry watched as she picked the toy up off the floor. She examined it for a second before snapping it in two with her hands.
‘Un-fucking-believable!’ Molly whispered to herself.
Jamie knew then that she was done trying to scare the Till Girl, Molly - the boy had called her. Even when she thought Jamie been holding a real gun, Molly hadn’t been scared. God knows what she’d do now.
But Max, who had long learned how to act as a ballast to his sister’s temper, was ready to smooth the situation over.
‘Look, I think we can all agree that this has been a bit of a silly incident’ Max said. ‘So I think the best thing would be for everyone to just leave. Except you’ he said, gesturing at Molly ‘because you work here, obviously. But everyone else will go and we’ll forget this happened.’
‘You know this still counts as armed robbery, don’t you? Even if the gun is plastic?’ Molly said.
Jamie, caught up with the need for a quick cash injection, had forgotten that inconvenient little fact when she’d walked into the Quick Snack. She felt a jolt of panic at Molly’s words. She glanced at Max, hoping to read some genius plan in his eyes, unlikely as that was. But she could tell that he was still hoping he could talk his way out of this. Jamie wasn’t so certain that was going to work.
‘Look’ Max said calmly ‘I know that’s, like, technically true and everything. But if you’d let us off, we’d really appreciate it.’
‘Let you off? Of an armed robbery?’
‘Armed robbery? Prank gone wrong? It’s a fine line if you ask me’ Max said, hoping that his lazy charm would work on Molly.
‘Your girlfriend walked in here and pointed this’ she held up the broken gun bits ‘at me and told me to open the till. And if I had, she’d have robbed every last penny.’
‘She’s my sister, actually’ Max amended.
‘Whatever! She tried to scare me into giving her money. And the only reason she wasn’t able to do it is that I wasn’t scared.’
‘Then what’s the harm?’ Max asked with a shrug.
‘The harm is that next time, maybe the girl behind the till will be scared. And maybe the gun won’t be made of plastic. So I have to call the police’ Molly checked around the till, looking for her mobile phone underneath the counter.
‘Whoa, whoa, whoa, there’s not gonna be a next time!’ Max entreated. ‘We’ve never done this before. It’s the first and the last time, I promise you.’
Jamie rolled her eyes at her brother as Molly found her phone and began to make the call.
‘Max! How many times do I need to tell you!’ Jamie snapped at her brother. ‘People don’t trust the words of criminals’ she said as she stepped behind
the counter, grabbing the phone out of Molly’s hand. She threw it on the floor and smashed it with one hard stamp of her heel.
Molly looked down at her busted phone. She looked back up at Jamie, who was fixing her with a defiant glare.
‘That was BRAND NEW’ Molly shouted.
A jet flame suddenly shot into the air, narrowly missing Max’s nose. Everybody jumped around to see Henry, who they had all forgotten about, wielding the now functioning flame thrower. He took his finger off the hairspray’s button, halting the flame.
‘I’m not gonna let you hurt her’ he cried, desperately trying to sound tough. In truth though, he’d frightened himself and it was obvious to everyone else in the room. Especially Molly, who’d been giving serious thought to socking the female robber in the eye. She rounded on Henry, affronted.
