Tom parked his rusty, red muscle car beside the convenience store. As Bradley requested, he made sure it wasn’t in any of the nearby spots as customers had to be given preference. It was understandable. Still, as Tom slammed the creaky door and took his first breath of gas station fumes, that condescending tone was already rattling around his skull.  

Tom hated being talked down to. He wasn’t a kid. But, as he stood there, messy black hair crowning his handsome lightly-freckled face, wearing the same green polo and black pants combo he had worn the day before, he hardly felt like an adult.

Tom sighed before locking his car and slinging his jangling, overburdened keyring back into his pocket. He took two steps before the sound of clacking metal made him aware that he had, once again, thrown the keys in with his phone. It was scratched up enough as it was, and had to do for the rest of the year.

Another sigh, the second of many. At least Lucy was good company. Maybe the first part of the night would just drift away, like smoke from the hotdog machine.

He opened the glass door to the familiar chime of electronic bells.

Lucy peeked up from behind a shelf. She was naturally pale, making Tom look practically sun-kissed, but used makeup to accentuate it further. She called it ‘cozy goth’, but Tom didn’t understand the distinction. Makeup to highlight and contrast the shadows on her face, purple streaks in otherwise jet-black hair. She wore a matching company polo, but otherwise, she couldn’t have looked any different from him.

Unlike tom, Lucy made the uniform work with her look.

“Dude! You missed a real day!”

Tom scratched the back of his neck.

“Aren’t they all?” he said, knowing full well they were mostly boring as shit.

“No, no, this isn't a weird guy or a burnt pizza. Rodney flipped his fuckin gourd! He trashed the place.”

“What?!” Tom said, looking around. “It looks about as dumpy as usual–”

“Yeah, that’s because we’ve been cleaning it up all day. Bradley came in at like four, Rodney had flipped over all the shelves and stuff…look at this.”

She motioned for Tom to walk over. When he’s made his way to the center aisles, his breath caught in his throat. There were scratches all over the floor and gouges where the linoleum was torn away to reveal the wooden flooring beneath.

“Holy shit! All this from turning over the shelves?”

“That’s what Bradley said. But, I mean, come on...”

Tom knelt and ran his fingers along the damaged flooring. It was like it had been hacked with a pickaxe or something. But why hadn’t it torn up the wood?

“There must be a concrete slab under this, otherwise he would have broken through. That’s a lot of effort though… why did he do it?”

“Who knows? The little gimp always weirded me out.”

Tom flinched; he wasn’t close to Rodney but her words felt harsh.

“He had to have a reason. Maybe he was still mad about his shifts? Has anyone checked on him or–”

“He’s fine,” a gruff voice said. “Fired, but fine.”

Tom turned to see Bradley struggling in from the back door. He had a roll of carpet over his sweat-drenched shoulders.

“He was just mad about never getting a day shift,” Bradley said, stopping at the front of the main aisle. “Some people don’t know how to modulate.”

He slammed the carpet down and kicked it. The coil flopped out and rolled its way towards the two teens. Tom jumped as it rolled its way out, Lucy ran away from it, skidding behind the shelf just in time for it to safely slap down at the end.

“Could have warned us!” Lucy shrieked over Tom’s laughter.

Bradley shook his head.

“Like you saw, Tom, Rodney made quite a mess. But it’s nearly all fixed, no harm, no foul.”

Tom rested a hand against the shelf. It bore his weight. Not exactly an easy job to flip them all over…

“And you’re sure he’s okay?”

“Sure as shit,” Bradley said, scratching his eye. “But I’m exhausted. Are you two good holding the fort until Daisy gets in?”

Lucy squinted at him.

“We work alone half the time,” she said sarcastically.

“I know that, I just…” Bradley said before getting flustered. He turned and waved a hand behind his head.

“You try to look after people and they just give you lip. Friggin’ kids have no respect…” he continued to grumble as he walked out the back door.

“What’s up his ass?” Tom asked.

Lucy shrugged, staring at the empty door frame Bradley left through.

“It’s been a long day.”

“Did he miss his 3pm chocolate bar?”

“No, I think he had two.”

“He let you see him eat them?” Tom asked in disbelief.

Lucy laughed and pointed at the office.

“No, I saw him grab them from the front shelf and take them out back.”

“What a guy…”

Tom looked around the room. With the carpet down, you’d never have known anything had happened.

“Sucks about Rodney, though. He really needed this job.”

“Yeah, sucks to suck,” Lucy said, pulling a box of chips out of the office. “I won’t miss him. Judgmental freak.”

 She dropped the box on the floor, spilling chips out over the remaining linoleum. She started picking them up and placing them on the shelf.

“Who cares if I’m messy? This is a bullshit job.”

Tom nodded, but he wasn’t sure how he felt about it. When he’d started there, the summer before his graduate year, it was an excuse to mess around and barely work. Something else he’d leave behind him. But, like so many other things, the job continued to linger. A year after graduating high school and the job was still bullshit, but he was still there.

Just thinking about it makes me want to scream.

But he wouldn’t. He never did. He’d just take what life handed him and quietly fall apart.

Tom helped with the chips, setting them down with a bit more care and a few less crinkles, beside the ones Lucy had moved.

“Shit show aside, how’s life? Getting excited for graduation?”

Lucy laughed. Crouched down, her dark eyes seemed almost manic. Given her self-professed status as a practicing Wiccan, Tom pictured her hovering over a bubbling cauldron. Even if the knee-high leather boots distracted from any cottagecore imagery he could muster. A bit modern for any image of a witch he’s seen outside of a comic book.

“Excited is the wrong word. Way too weak,” she said, sitting down on the cold floor. “High school is a prison. I’m ecstatic it’s ending.”

“It’s not all bad,” Tom said, joining her on the floor. “Yeah, classes suck but I miss the team stuff, sports and assemblies, the dances. School might blow but it ends with a big party!”

Tom knew he’d messed when Lucy looked away.

“Yeah, most of that is only fun if you’re popular.”

She held up a hand and grinned.

“Not that I’m judging you for that.”

Tom smiled back, but he knew what she meant. He’d never been shitty to her specifically, but he also hadn’t known her name until they worked together. 

“No offense taken, but seriously. Try and have a good time. In the end, all that’s waiting on the other side is work.”

Lucy stood up, carrying the now empty cardboard box with her.

“I already work full time. I have to save for college. Besides, prom’s not any fun if you’re going alone.”

She started to look him in the eyes but Tom turned to straighten the chips on the shelf. This wasn’t the first hint she had dropped, and it wouldn’t be the last. Tom gracefully tried to change the subject.

“College apps going well?” he said, finally turning back to her. Lucy looked disappointed, but she answered anyway.

“Yeah, I’ve been accepted at U-Dub, but I’m still not sure what I want to do.”

Tom stood and dusted off his black pants.

“You have time to figure that out.”

Lucy’s eyes widened.

“No, I don’t. If I don’t figure out what I want for a career, I can’t figure out what I’m doing for a major,” she said, doing a little twirl and made her way to the back as she spoke, “and if I can’t figure out my major, then here comes the liberal arts student.”

When Lucy was in the back and safely out of sight, Tom turned to the counter. Steadying himself against the tremor in his legs and the ice he felt creeping up his spine.

When was the last time he even looked at courses? Would he have the money saved by next year? Would his grades even be good enough?

He put a hand on the counter for support. His eyes faced the wall of cigarettes behind the register. He tried to distract himself by staring at the images of tattered lungs and diseased gums, but those horrors seemed too far away.

His chest tightened. 

What if he was just kidding himself? What if he’s already…

His eye caught a strap, sticking out from behind the counter.

Tom breathed in deeply and centered himself.

Still a bit wobbly, he made his way around the counter. Stooping down, he saw a blue backpack.

It wasn’t Lucy’s; she’d never wear anything that bright. And Bradley would rather be burdened than comfortably casual.

It must be Rodney’s.

Tom sighed. He should have done more for him. Really, he’d failed him twice.

The electric chime rang out again.

“I’ll be with you in just a minute,” Tom said, still examining the bag.

He could keep it for now. He’d put it in his locker and give it to Rodney the next time he saw him.

Yeah, that was something he could do for him.

The zip was just slightly ajar. The smallest hole in the side of the bag led to darkness within.

If Rodney had food in there, it might spoil. He should probably check.

Tom reached for the zipper. Surely, it was okay. He wasn’t snooping, he was just doing Rodney a favor.

Just another favor.

He pulled the zipper up, slowly expanding the opening. He had to know what was in there, so he could keep it safe.

He slid his hand in slowly, apprehensively. As if there was something wait there in the dark. Something, many things, ready to touch him. Waiting to bite him.

Why am I worried? It’s not like it’s full of—

“Hey kid, what are you doing?”

A feminine voice startled Tom, who shot up, banging his head on the overhang.

“Ow, shit, sorry…”

He looked up to see Daisy standing in front of the counter, kind eyes and smile beaming on her pastel, lightly pink face. Her short crop of grey hair stood in a puff while her thin tired arms held up a humongous flower print handbag. She was dressed for work—green polo, black slacks. Same as the rest of them.

“Are you okay, Tom?” she said, reaching out for his shoulder.

 “Yeah, just startled.”

“You’re not usually that jumpy,” she said, smile fading. Worry crossed her face. “What’s wrong?”

Tom felt his expression fading away as well.

“Something’s happened to Rodney.”