Loners pt. 4

The station wagon clumsily turned into the parking lot of a Phillips 66. “Think you could get me some ice cream?” Lola asked as the car came to an abrupt stop. As she flicked the cigarette butt out the window, Maria grew wary.
“Why?”
“Because it’s hot as hell out here,” She gave Maria a sharp stare. “Why do you ask so many questions?”
“I don’t have any money, though.”
A smiled spread across Lola’s face, “Take it”. An older couple walked out of the convenience store holding a large soda and two 99 cent hotdogs.
“You’re kidding,” Maria’s face flushed, embarresed. She pulled nervously at her seat belt as Lola ignored her by casually looking out the window at the couple now leaving in their practical Toyota Corolla. The last time Maria stole something was last year. It was a 20 dollar bill from her mom’s secret stash inside one of her ceramic cat collectables. However, Maria’s mother found out before she could even begin her impulsive shopping spree. Stupidly, she thought she could afford an outfit at the mall all on a Jackson.
“I think I want something chocolate,” Lola said still avidly people watching like they were all a part of her favorite sitcom.
Maria wasn’t sure whether to be angry or anxious. “Why don’t you steal it yourself?”
Finally, Lola flicked her head sharply locking eyes with Maria. Her glossy, potent eyes were strangely tempting to Maria. Even one prolonged glance seemed like something inexplicably beautiful and terrifying; Maria compared it to staring into the sun. “I’m just giving you an opportunity, church mouse.”
Perhaps it was Lola’s ominous stare which drove Maria straight to the ice cream bin or maybe it was just because she was sick of being called church mouse, but either way Maria Mason was shocked to find her reflection trapped inside the freezer. Suddenly, she felt the coldness of the Drumstick Bar against her thigh as she slid it in her pocket. Her heart beat faster as she approached the exit guarded by store clerks with outdated uniforms and unfriendly faces. Four more steps…three more steps…
“Owww!” squealed a nasally young girl as her pink gingham purse fell to the ground. Of course, Maria managed to run into someone as she was focusing intently on her own feet.
“Oh, I’m so sorry!” Maria panicked bending down to help her pick up some scattered loose change. “I hope your foot is okay.”
“Yeah it’s –well my goodness, is that Maria Mason?” The girl beamed at her intensely. Her chocolaty brown hair was perfectly straight and complemented by a light green headband which looked like it belonged to kindergartener.
“Sarah Richards,” Maria remembered as she handed Sarah the coins. “It’s been so long.” Sarah had been a friend from church until she moved to her dad’s house in Tennessee two years ago. Growing up, she was one of the only kids Maria knew who had divorced parents. It was comforting for Maria to know she wasn’t alone, but often times she felt Sarah took the divorce harder than she did. Sarah was prone to random outbursts of crying and made so many self-absorbed prayers she might as well have written God a wish list and called him Santa.
“How have you been? How’s your mama?” Maria could tell Sarah was still the same girl as she was when she left except maybe with a thicker drawl.
Hastily Maria answered. Although, she knew she had little time before Lola would drive off behind an “interesting” looking biker gang. She patted her pocket to make sure the ice cream wasn’t melting but surprisingly she found nothing.
“—Uh, that yours?” Sarah pointed at the drumstick lying stupidly on the floor.
Maria froze. From the corner of her eye, she saw the store clerk’s soured face peer suspiciously at her. His wrinkles weighed down his eyebrows making him appear like he was continually scowling…or maybe he was. Sarah’s innocent wide eyes were also fixed on Maria; her hand was still awkwardly pointing to the drumstick. This was Maria’s chance, the final standoff. After another second went by, Maria picked up the ice cream cone, stuffed it back in her pocket and bolted out the door.
“Go, go, go!” Maria shouted as she slammed the station wagon door. Startled, Lola jumped and then scrambled to turn the keys in the engine. They pulled out screeching onto the highway flying past carloads of honest people filling up their tanks.
Lola laughed slapping her hands giddily onto the wheel. “What the fuck, man!”
Maria opened the drumstick holding it in the air as it if were the most valuable honor one could receive. The ice cream was seeping out the hard chocolate shell, cracked in several places, only half of the nuts remained on the top. “You earned that shit,” Lola said glowing still with laughter. Maria took a bite, satisfied.