Amanda ran and ran. She was so upset she didn’t know where she was going, but her body did. She went where she always did: the ice cream store at the mall, which was located just a few blocks from Laurie’s house. There was almost nothing sweets wouldn’t fix, and ice cream was one of her favorite ways of getting sugar into her system. A cup of chocolate turtle and apple butter chip from Piggetty’s would be just the thing.
Except that there was one problem. She’d left Laurie’s in such a rush that she’d forgotten her bag and she didn’t have any money with her. Darn! Maybe she could talk the counter guy into starting a tab. She knew all about tabs from movies. It seemed a simple enough proposition. She might even add a tab to her script. But she didn’t have anything to write with. Usually she wrote her ideas on her phone or in a little notebook. If she didn’t get this one down fast she might forget it.
She arrived at the store, which was empty except for an old woman in a bright blue suit, and took a number. The woman was buying an ice cream cake that said ‘Congratulations on becoming a vegetarian.” Somehow the idea of celebrating the adoption of a healthy diet with all that sugar seemed a bit of a contradiction, but it wasn’t Amanda’s problem, and anyway the cake looked really cool with carrots, broccoli, and asparagus drawn in thick, colored icing.
“Tab, tab, tab, tab, tab,” she thought. If she repeated the word enough maybe it would stick in her brain until she could write it down. She could ask the ice cream guy for a pen and write on a napkin. Ha! People always wrote down great ideas on napkins. Tab, tab, tab, tab—
“Next!” called out ice cream guy. He had an uneven crew cut and bad skin. Amanda thought he could easily play a prisoner or a thug.
“Hi. Er, do you have a pen?” Tab, tab, tab.
“Nope.” He looked bored.
“Pencil?”
“Nope. What do you want?” He was tapping his foot now, and it wasn’t to music.
Tab, tab, tab, tab, tab. “I’d like a double cup with chocolate turtle and apple butter chip, please.” She looked up at him and tried to read his face. He looked like he couldn’t care less. This might not be so easy. “Um, can I ask you something?”
“Yeah,” he said, scooping.
“Would it be possible to open a tab?”
“A what?” He stopped. The scoop of luscious chocolate turtle ice cream was half full. Just a bit more and . . . heaven.
“A tab. You know—a running bill.”
“Ha ha ha!” laughed the guy. “What do you think this is—‘Ocean’s Eleven’?”
“Of course not. ‘Ocean’s Eleven’ is a clever heist film, one of the best ever made. In fact—”
“Can it, kid. You don’t have any money, do you?” He threw the treasure back in the carton and tossed the cone in the trash.
“I have money.”
“You just don’t have it with you.”
“No, but I can come back later and pay you.”
“You’re not Julia Roberts, girlie. Beat it.”
“Actually, there’s a funny story about Julia Roberts. Apparently during the filming—”
“I said get out of here,” he said. “Next!”
Amanda Lester and the Pink Sugar Conspiracy Page 4
