A Summer Upset

“Do you think he’s going to shoot her?” Matt hissed in Jersey’s ear. They huddled between the firewood and the ice cooler. Nacho cheese and gasoline mingled together in that distinct perfume that belonged only to a gas station. Jersey crumped his five-dollar bill back into his pocket, plans of getting slushies on this hot summer day thwarted by the robbery currently taking place. “We should go, right? While we can?” Matt asked. 

“He would have shot us, if we’d been inside.” Jersey growled; his gaze flicked over to his friend. The unrelenting sun bounced off Matt’s short blonde hair making the tips translucent like sugar crystals. Jersey could sympathize with being broke. Both his parents were in jail and the money his older siblings got at their retail and restaurant jobs wasn’t much, but threatening someone else with a gun was crappy. If they’d gotten there five minutes earlier... 

The clerk behind the counter was shaking; her face had gone red from nervous sobbing. She was shouting something, pleading, and it only made the guy wearing the ski mask angrier. He slapped a display of meat stick to the ground; they scattered and the metal rang musically. The woman covered her ears and winced into the wall of cigarettes. 

“Yeah, we should.” Jersey’s gaze skimmed the rest of the room but didn’t see any more movement. Maybe the gunman had waited until the place was clear to make his move to prevent anyone from playing hero. “I hope she’s triggered the silent alarm. Let’s go.” 

They backed away, still crouched. Matt dialed 911 on his cellphone and whispered the location of the robbery to the operator. The two teenagers snuck along the edge of the building, until they came to a dumpster, where a car sat idling and vacant. Its windows were rolled down. 

“It's the escape vehicle.” Jersey realized aloud. “And the keys are in it.” 

“So?” Matt asked. 

Jersey glanced back at the gas station; the door was shut. Jersey wrapped his fingers around the windowsill and yanked himself in with a grunt. He crunched into the clutch of the vehicle. He wriggled on the hot seats, his elbow getting stuck in the sticky cup holder lined with green pennies. He unlocked the passenger side door and shoved it open. Matt recoiled from it like it was a venomous viper. 

“What are you doing?” Matt barked. 

“Get in!” Jersey insisted as he righted himself behind the steering wheel. “Before the guy comes out.” 

“But-” Matt protested. Jersey revved the engine menacingly. Matt clambered into the vehicle. Jersey eyed the gearbox, yanked it into R for reverse, and hit the gas. The rear of the car crunched into the side of the building with a scrapping of metal and concrete. Matt, who hadn’t been wearing his seatbelt, slammed his head against the dashboard in front of him. He reeled back swearing and clutching his forehead. His glasses had somehow survived the impact. 

“All those hours in Gran Turismo and you still don’t know how to reverse.” Matt yelled.  

“A PlayStation controller and a car are just a lil different, I’ll figure it out.” Jersey chuckled nervously as he threw the car into drive. They crashed into a trash can with the corner of the bumper but Jersey pushed forward through the awful grinding until the car broke free and lurched onto the road. 

Blam! Blam! 

The left passenger-side rear window webbed with thousands of fissures, making it impossible to see through its many crystal facets. Matt sank down in his seat, pooling on the floor and covered his head with his hands. Jersey kept his eyes on the road, eyeballs flicking side to side. 

“He mad?” Jersey asked. 

“He mad!” Matt confirmed. “I think he’s shooting at us.” 

“Lucky enough we got a green light, so we’ll just breeze through this intersection and we should be outta range. I think. I can’t afford a gun. Matt, how far can guns shoot?” Matt quivered on the floor and didn’t answer. “We’ll drive for five blocks then get out and lose the keys.” Jersey decided. He blew through four more intersections that were green in an act of divine grace, before pulling into the parking lot for a strip mall. He parked across from of the pizza place, only taking up two spaces, and turned off the vehicle. It sagged back onto its sticky tires in the summer heat. Matt peaked out from his hoodie. 

“Come on, we gotta get out of this car before the cops arrest us too.” 

Jersey stepped out of the car and Matt shakily followed suit. Jersey considered the keys, taking them with him as he walked. He approached the ashtray sitting on the sidewalk, shook his head and flung the keys into the middle of the four-lane road during a lull in the traffic. They glinted against the asphalt like Cinderella’s abandoned slipper. 

“How are we going to get back to my house genius?” Matt asked. 

“We’ll call your parents? Let’s walk over to that taco place. We don’t want to be too close to the evidence.” Jersey pointed at a restaurant so worn-down it had to be authentic. During the red light, they crossed the street, sauntered into the restaurant and grocery store, and sat themselves at one of the tables. A puddle of bleach solution was still drying from the wipe down after the last customer so both boys kept their elbows off of the table. 

A waitress took their order and delivered nacho chips onto their table. They sat, crunching chips together, staring at one another. Jersey’s eyes were easy and satisfied, like butter softening over hours on a silver serving dish on a dining room table. Matt’s expression sizzled like a chunk of butter thrown onto a hot pan, hissing words that made it to his teeth but got melted there before he could articulate them clearly.   

“Why?” Matt asked. 

“I thought if we’d gotten there earlier, he might have killed you and it made me angry.” Jersey shrugged, flecks of chips on his lips. “I couldn’t run in there and attack him though, he had a gun. So, I stole his car.” 

“You could have killed me. We could have gotten into a car accident; you don’t even have a driver’s permit.” Matt pointed the corner of a tortilla chip at Jersey like an arrow. “That was so stupid and dangerous.” 

“He’s stranded now though.” 

“Unless he steals another car.” 

Jersey rolled his eyes. 

“Next time hide in a dumpster. You don’t have to come with.” 

“No, you get into enough trouble with me. I can’t imagine what you do without.” Matt called his parents and told them where to pick him up at. They got their food and dove in. Jersey knew he should feel scared; he knew what Matt was experiencing was the normal feelings a person should have. Yet, the only thing that scared him was how not scared he’d been when he’d done it. The only thing that scared him was the chasm he felt opening invisibly between them. A difference of psychology that may only widen as puberty progressed and life experiences diverged. Jersey’s fingers twitched, drawing closer to Matt’s hand. If he could grab his hand, maybe they wouldn’t be torn apart. Maybe their friendship could survive the fact that Matt was afraid and Jersey wasn’t quite right.  

But Matt lifted his hand to play on his phone. Jersey’s remained, alone on the table, stinging from the bleach.