smile:
a shiny gold tooth beamed at me where one of his canines had been,
“You think I’m dumb? I was already at your house. There’s no money
there.”
“ You were at my house? How
do you know where I live?”
“ I’m a resourceful guy.” If
he knew my last name, he wouldn’t have had any problems finding me.
Libby Googled me a couple weeks ago; she had told me all my
information was posted in their directory.
Libby kept all of her money in a
coffee can above the stove. Whatever had been left over after she
went to the grocery store would have been in the can. If this guy
would have tried to get money from Libby, it wouldn’t have been in
her purse. She could have told him I had the money. “Libby can tell
you I don’t have it.”
“ Libby’s not going to be
talking to anyone again, Princess. Now, give me my
money.”
Chapter 5
The hand he had inside his
sweatshirt emerged holding a gun. My hands shot into the air as if
he were a typical robber. Mr. Sander’s voice echoed in my head,
“ It’s just money. If it’s your life on the
line, give them whatever they ask for. We’re insured.” He told me that my first night on the job.
Anything in the store could be replaced, but there was nothing
worth an employee’s life.
The man’s voice was low and
calculating when he slowly counted, “One. Two. . . “
“ Wait! Hold On!” I pushed
the “cash sale” button on the register and pulled a handful of
twenties, dropping them into the drawer without even counting them.
I did bank deposits every morning after my shift, and I knew the
pile I had just given him was well over $500. I was safely behind
bullet-proof glass, but, until this second, it had never occurred
to me to ask how well it would stop a bullet. Libby and I had
watched a show on the Discovery Channel where it said
armor-piercing rounds could get through bullet-proof everything.
There was no way to know what kind of rounds he had until he pulled
the trigger.
His left hand reached into the drawer,
groping for the cash and shoving it in the pocket of his jeans. He
smiled and nodded appreciatively to me. I let out the breath I had
been holding when he menacingly said, “Three.”
His finger pulled the trigger, and I
saw the muzzle flash. Inside my robber-proof cage, the bullets
ricocheted off the glass as one giant mark puckered the glass. At
least three hit the glass before I was able to react. I threw my
hands over my head and sprawled onto the floor. Images of my life
began assaulting me. I saw myself playing with my sisters on a
merry-go-round. . . baking a cherry pie with Mom. . .riding the
school bus holding my pink Hello Kitty backpack . . . a slow dance
with Dad at my cousin’s wedding . . . hundreds of images flashed
before my eyes. My hands were jammed hard over my ears, trying
their best to keep the sound out. He kept firing. The sound of the
bullets ricocheting off of the thick glass were deafening. I lost
count on the number of shots. It seemed as if they would never
stop, and time had slowed down for them to echo on
forever.
The shots finally stopped. I didn’t
dare look at the shooter’s face. For all I knew he was reloading
while I was paralyzed with fear on the floor. There was a ringing
in my ears as I heard the man’s muffled words shout at me through
the window. “The next time you see me, you better hope I’m in a
good mood, Princess.”
The lottery machine, which I hadn’t
heard at all before the assault, was the only sound in the room.
Some hypnotic computerized voice announced the upcoming jackpot as
I lay there on the cool tile floor, my body shaking like a teenager
after a six-pack of Red Bull. What had just happened? He wasn’t
trying to hold up the store: he had come here looking for
me.
I scrambled to my feet, crouched down
below the counter so I could steal a glimpse of the pumps. His Nova
was gone. My hands trembled as I fumbled for my phone. I called
Libby’s phone number – no answer. When
a shiny gold tooth beamed at me where one of his canines had been,
“You think I’m dumb? I was already at your house. There’s no money
there.”
“ You were at my house? How
do you know where I live?”
“ I’m a resourceful guy.” If
he knew my last name, he wouldn’t have had any problems finding me.
Libby Googled me a couple weeks ago; she had told me all my
information was posted in their directory.
Libby kept all of her money in a
coffee can above the stove. Whatever had been left over after she
went to the grocery store would have been in the can. If this guy
would have tried to get money from Libby, it wouldn’t have been in
her purse. She could have told him I had the money. “Libby can tell
you I don’t have it.”
“ Libby’s not going to be
talking to anyone again, Princess. Now, give me my
money.”
Chapter 5
The hand he had inside his
sweatshirt emerged holding a gun. My hands shot into the air as if
he were a typical robber. Mr. Sander’s voice echoed in my head,
“ It’s just money. If it’s your life on the
line, give them whatever they ask for. We’re insured.” He told me that my first night on the job.
Anything in the store could be replaced, but there was nothing
worth an employee’s life.
The man’s voice was low and
calculating when he slowly counted, “One. Two. . . “
“ Wait! Hold On!” I pushed
the “cash sale” button on the register and pulled a handful of
twenties, dropping them into the drawer without even counting them.
I did bank deposits every morning after my shift, and I knew the
pile I had just given him was well over $500. I was safely behind
bullet-proof glass, but, until this second, it had never occurred
to me to ask how well it would stop a bullet. Libby and I had
watched a show on the Discovery Channel where it said
armor-piercing rounds could get through bullet-proof everything.
There was no way to know what kind of rounds he had until he pulled
the trigger.
His left hand reached into the drawer,
groping for the cash and shoving it in the pocket of his jeans. He
smiled and nodded appreciatively to me. I let out the breath I had
been holding when he menacingly said, “Three.”
His finger pulled the trigger, and I
saw the muzzle flash. Inside my robber-proof cage, the bullets
ricocheted off the glass as one giant mark puckered the glass. At
least three hit the glass before I was able to react. I threw my
hands over my head and sprawled onto the floor. Images of my life
began assaulting me. I saw myself playing with my sisters on a
merry-go-round. . . baking a cherry pie with Mom. . .riding the
school bus holding my pink Hello Kitty backpack . . . a slow dance
with Dad at my cousin’s wedding . . . hundreds of images flashed
before my eyes. My hands were jammed hard over my ears, trying
their best to keep the sound out. He kept firing. The sound of the
bullets ricocheting off of the thick glass were deafening. I lost
count on the number of shots. It seemed as if they would never
stop, and time had slowed down for them to echo on
forever.
The shots finally stopped. I didn’t
dare look at the shooter’s face. For all I knew he was reloading
while I was paralyzed with fear on the floor. There was a ringing
in my ears as I heard the man’s muffled words shout at me through
the window. “The next time you see me, you better hope I’m in a
good mood, Princess.”
The lottery machine, which I hadn’t
heard at all before the assault, was the only sound in the room.
Some hypnotic computerized voice announced the upcoming jackpot as
I lay there on the cool tile floor, my body shaking like a teenager
after a six-pack of Red Bull. What had just happened? He wasn’t
trying to hold up the store: he had come here looking for
me.
I scrambled to my feet, crouched down
below the counter so I could steal a glimpse of the pumps. His Nova
was gone. My hands trembled as I fumbled for my phone. I called
Libby’s phone number – no answer. When
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