by R. L. Stine
I felt jittery. My skin tingled. My mouth felt dry as cotton. Maybe I did need a beer.
Ivy kept playing with her hair, tying it behind her head, then letting it go. “Hey, we both wore the same outfit,” she said, eyeing me. Black skirt and tights, dark-blue long-sleeved top.
“It’s my robbery outfit,” I said.
“It’ll look good in the video,” Manny said, checking his phone for the hundredth time. “All powered up.”
“Where is Jack?” Jeremy demanded. “He’s late.”
“He said he had to pick some things up,” I said.
Manny took a long gulp of beer and then burped.
“Fourth-grader,” I murmured.
He grinned. “And proud of it.”
“I don’t like this standing around,” Ivy said. “It’s making me really tense.”
“Why should we feel tense? Just because we’re robbing a store?” I joked.
“We’re taking two cars, right?” Manny said, spinning his beer can on the air-hockey table. “Mine and Jack’s?”
“That’s what he said,” I answered. “I think—”
I stopped when I heard heavy footsteps thudding down the basement stairs.
We all turned to the stairway.
“Everybody freeze!” a voice boomed. “Shadyside Police!”
I gasped. I saw Ivy grip the side of the table.
Jack came bursting into the room, grinning, a cardboard box in his arms.
“You’re not funny!” Ivy cried. “You really scared me.”
Jack snickered. “You’re too easy.”
“Well, we’re all tense,” I said.
He set the carton on the air-hockey table. “No need to be tense. It’s going to be cake. A piece of cake.” He gazed around the table, taking attendance. “Okay. Good. Hey, you got a beer for me?”
Jeremy started to the half fridge beside the bar. But Jack stepped in his way and stopped him. “No. Wait. Better save the beer for celebrating afterward.”
Manny glugged down the rest of his beer and crushed the can in his hand. “I like to celebrate before and after.”
Jack tugged down the sleeves of his black Nirvana sweatshirt. His eyes flashed, silvery under the basement ceiling lights. His smile faded and his expression turned hard, all business.
He pulled the carton closer and reached inside. “Here. Everyone take one.” He pulled out a handful of black ski masks.
I felt a chill at the back of my neck. This was getting real.
Of course, it wasn’t real. Jack had assured us a hundred times that everything was taken care of, that everything was cool with Mr. Harlow, that nothing real or dangerous could interrupt our little fantasy robbery.
But something about the ski masks, maybe the solemn black color, sent a chill, and made my whole body feel tingly and my mind more alert.
Jeremy took a mask from Jack and examined it. “Is this a synthetic fabric or is it wool?” he asked, turning the mask in his hands, searching for a label. “I’m allergic to wool.”
Jack let out an exasperated groan. “It’s not wool, Jeremy. It’s fake. But so what? You only need to wear it for five minutes.”
Jeremy studied the ski mask unhappily. “Are you sure?”
“Do we have to wear them?” Ivy asked. I knew she was probably worried about messing up her hair. “I mean, we want everyone to recognize us, right? We want everyone watching online to know it’s us.”
Jack groaned again and tossed a mask at her. It bounced off her shoulder. “You can’t hold up a store without wearing a mask,” he said, unable to hide his impatience. “Have you ever heard of anyone robbing a store and showing their face to the security cameras? Have you?”
Ivy blushed. “Guess not.”
“No one could be that stupid,” Jack snapped.
“I’m not stupid!” Ivy cried, slapping the mask against the tabletop.
“Let’s all chill,” Jeremy said. “We’re stressed out and—”
“No reason to be stressed out,” Jack said. His eyes flashed. “We’re doing this for a laugh, remember?”
Jeremy shrugged. “It doesn’t feel like it.”
“Lighten up, guys,” Jack said. “We drive to the store. We’re in, we’re out. And we have to make it look as real as we can.” He turned to Manny. “You checked your phone?”
Manny nodded. “Checked and double checked. No worries.”
I ran the mask through my hands. The material felt scratchy and rough. I realized my hands were ice cold. Jack is right. This is supposed to be fun, I scolded myself. Just think about the awesome reaction we’re going to get when we pull this stunt off.
“Focus, everyone,” Jack said. “When we go online, keep it serious, okay? Keep it real. And listen . . .”
“We’re listening,” Ivy muttered, rolling her eyes.
Jack ignored her. “When we’re online, don’t anyone use real names. Just stick to the names we rehearsed, okay?”
Yes. We’d gone over this before. It was my idea. “This is like play-acting,” I told everyone. “We each pick a role to play.” I thought everyone would enjoy it more if they felt like they were actors playing a part.
I was Robin. Jack was Trevor. Robin and Trevor. Ivy was Diana. Jeremy was Thomas. And Manny . . . I couldn’t remember Manny’s character name. It didn’t matter. He wouldn’t be on-camera anyway.
I watched Jack as he continued his last-minute instructions. He certainly was thorough. All business. I figured that was a good thing. No slipups. No surprises.
Boy, was I wrong.
24
Poppy Continues
“Are we ready?” I asked. I could feel the blood pulsing at my ears. I knew I was excited. Excited and just a little afraid.
Jack drew close and squeezed my arm gently. “It’s going to be awesome,” he whispered in my ear.
Then he turned back to the others. “Okay. Keep it real, everyone. And don’t hold back. It’s a robbery, remember. Harlow will play along. He’s ready. He’s going to be great.”
Jeremy tossed his beer can in the wastebasket behind the bar. Ivy and I started to the basement stairs.
“Oh, wait. One more thing,” Jack said. He motioned us back to the air-hockey table.
I groaned. I was eager to get the show on the road. Too much time in Jeremy’s basement was making me tenser and tenser. I felt like a rubber band all twisted tight. I wanted to spin free.
We all gathered at the table again. Manny had his phone raised and appeared to be texting someone. Jack reached into the carton he had brought—and pulled out a small gray pistol.
“Whoa!” Manny let out a cry and dropped his phone onto the game table.
Ivy and I both gasped. I saw Jeremy narrow his eyes in disbelief, following Jack’s hand as he raised the pistol.
Ivy found her voice first. “Jack, come on, dude. You never said we’d bring a gun.”
“No way,” I protested. “Ivy is right. We’ve been talking about this for two weeks, and you never said anything about a gun.”
Jack scowled at us. “What do you want to rob Harlow with—a popsicle stick?” He twirled the gun in his fingers.
“Is it . . . real?” Jeremy asked timidly, eyes on the twirling pistol.
Jack nodded. “Yeah. It’s real.”
Shivers started to roll down my back. I wrapped my arms around myself to stop the trembling.
I have a thing about guns. My dad kept guns in the house. He was kind of a gun nut. He was always taking them out and cleaning them. He kept bullets in a locked drawer in the basement. Sometimes he took a gun to some kind of target practice. I don’t know where.
I didn’t want to know. I guess I was supposed to feel safe with all those guns around. But I didn’t. I was always afraid whenever I saw one. I guess I have too good an imagination. I had all these fantasies of one of us getting shot.
When my parents split and Dad moved out of the house, he took all his guns with him, and I was glad. But now here I was, stari
ng at the gun in Jack’s hand, all the bad feelings from my childhood rushing back at me.
“Let’s roll, everyone,” Jack said. He took long strides toward the basement steps, waving the pistol like a pennant. “It’s showtime.”
He glanced back at me. He saw that my eyes were on the gun in his hand. His face grew solemn. “Let’s just hope we don’t have to use it.”
I gave his shoulder a shove. “You’re joking—right? Right?”
25
Poppy Continues
Ivy and Jeremy rode with Manny. They followed close behind Jack and me.
Jack didn’t have his truck. He was driving a small Mazda two-door. “Where’d you get this car?” I asked, struggling with the seat belt.
“Borrowed it,” he murmured, eyes on the road. Headlights washed over our windshield like bright lightning streaks, one after another.
He had the gun beside him between the seats. His mask was in his lap. I turned and saw Manny’s headlights in the rear window. I knew they were as freaked about the gun as I was.
“Hey, Jack,” I started. I put my hand on his shoulder. “We really don’t want to do this. Not with a . . . a weapon.”
He brushed my hand away gently. “It’s loaded with blanks, Poppy.”
Traffic slowed as River Road curved down toward town. Jack eased his foot on the brake. He was a careful driver. You might expect him to be reckless, wild. It would have fit his personality better. But he didn’t drive that way.
“I told you my dad works at the track,” he said, wrapping his right hand around the gun handle. “This is the starter pistol he uses at his job.”
“No real bullets?” I asked, studying him, trying to make sure he was telling the truth.
“No worries,” he said.
He turned sharply into the parking lot at Harlow’s. I saw a few cars parked near the front door. The store inside was bright as day. I could see each aisle clearly through the wide front window. I couldn’t see the front counter, but I knew Mr. Harlow must be there.
Jack edged the car around the side of the building, and we parked in deep shadow at the far side of the parking lot in back. The back door to the store had a small window in it. But I couldn’t see anything in it.
Manny’s car slid beside us a few seconds later. He cut his headlights immediately. Jeremy climbed out from the passenger seat. He was breathing heavily, his chest riding up and down. I hoped he wasn’t going to have one of his asthma attacks.
Ivy stepped out from the back seat and took Jeremy’s arm. “It’s a warm night, but I’m shivering,” she whispered.
The five of us huddled together in the shadows behind our cars. Manny waved his phone in front of him. “Ready to go live?”
“Not yet.” Jack grabbed Manny’s hand and pushed it down. “We have to make sure no one else is in the store. Just Harlow.” He turned to Ivy. “You go.”
Ivy started toward the back door. Jack hurried after her. “No. Go in the front. Act like a customer. See what’s going on.”
Manny grinned. “It’s called casing the joint.”
Jack frowned at him. “Think you could be a little more serious?”
Manny shrugged. “Don’t any of you watch movies?”
I heard a car horn from the front of the store. Car doors slammed. I heard the car pull away.
Clouds covered the half-moon and the air grew cooler. A gust of wind made my hair fly up, and I struggled to smooth it down with both hands.
“What’s keeping Ivy?” Jeremy asked, his voice strained. He kept crossing and uncrossing his arms.
“She probably got a hero or something,” Manny said. “I don’t think she had dinner.”
“She’s waiting for the store to be empty,” Jack said. “Don’t worry. When it’s showtime, she’ll give us a signal.”
I could feel drops of sweat on my forehead. My legs felt jumpy. I wanted to get going. Get this stunt over with. I kept fiddling with the scarf around my neck, twisting it one way then the other.
Finally, Ivy reappeared, walking rapidly along the side of the store. She didn’t signal or anything. She waited until she was back in the safety of the shadows behind our cars.
“There were some kids from school buying slushies,” she said breathlessly. “But they left.”
“So who’s in there now?” Jack demanded. “Just Harlow?”
“Yeah. Harlow,” Ivy answered. “And that weird guy, Lucas, who sweeps up.”
“He won’t be a problem,” Jack said. “He’s like a zombie or something.” He turned to us. “Ready to rumble?”
We all muttered yes. Manny started punching his phone. “Ready for the live stream. This is going to be awesome!”
We started toward the back door but Jack jumped ahead and stopped us. “Aren’t you forgetting something? Like ski masks?”
We’d left them in the cars. It took a short while to find them and pull them on.
“Let’s go in the front,” Jack said. “Much better light.”
Manny had his mask on and his phone raised. “I won’t push record till we go in.”
“Remember—let’s go in loud!” Jack said. “We want to make it look like we’ve scared Harlow to death—right? So let’s go in screaming.”
We edged our way along the side of the building. I could feel my heart start to flutter in my chest as we stepped into the light from the front window.
Manny tugged open the door and went in first. I knew he wanted to get in a good position to capture the whole thing.
Jeremy and Ivy followed. As I started through the doorway, I felt something hard in my hand. It took a second or two to realize that Jack had slid the pistol into my hand.
I nearly dropped it. My fingers wrapped themselves tightly around the handle.
“Go!” Jack whispered.
And we burst toward the front counter, all of us screaming at the top of our lungs. “This is a robbery!”
26
Poppy Narrates
My mask slipped and the eye holes moved. I couldn’t see a thing. I stumbled and bumped into Ivy and nearly knocked her over. Jack grabbed my shoulder and steadied me.
“Hands high! This is a robbery!” Jack screamed.
Manny leaped to the side of the counter and trained his phone lens on us. I pulled at the mask with my free hand until I could see again.
Harlow had been leaning on the counter, hair down over his forehead, typing on an iPad. As we burst forward, screaming, his eyes went wide, his arms flew up, and he backed up till he hit the cigarette display on the wall. A frightened squeak escaped his lips.
My brain was doing flip-flops. Jack said Harlow was in on the joke, I thought. He looks really frightened.
Out of the corner of my eye, I glimpsed that weird guy, Lucas. He was leaning on a broom by the door to the little supply room. His dark eyes were wide and his mouth hung open, but he didn’t move. He stood there like a statue, one hand on the broom handle, one hand suspended in air as if he was the one being robbed.
“Pull out all your cash. Hurry!” Jack ordered. His voice was muffled by the black mask. “Hurry!”
Harlow squinted hard and eyed him as if trying to identify him. He took a step toward the counter, but he didn’t make a move to open his cash drawer.
“You kids don’t want to do this,” he said quietly. He glanced from Jeremy to Ivy to me. “Trust me. You want to leave now and think later about how you almost ruined your lives.”
“Shut up!” Jack screamed. He sounded so angry he made me jump. I felt my heart leap into my throat.
“Listen to me,” Harlow insisted, returning Jack’s stare. “This isn’t worth it. You’re going to be caught. Your lives—all of you—will be wrecked.”
What is happening? I wondered. He’s supposed to be in on the joke!
I was there when Jack spoke to him. He was in on it. Was he just a good actor?
“If you turn around and leave now, I won’t call the police or make any complaint,” Harlow continued. He ta
pped the counter with his fingertips, the only sign he might be nervous. “Do you hear me?”
“Shut up!” Jack screamed again. “Shut up, shut up, shut up! I’m warning you, old man.”
He and Harlow continued their staring match.
“Just hand over the cash,” Jack ordered. “Hand it over—no more crap!”
Harlow nodded. His expression changed. He tightened his lips and his eyes grew cold.
“Hurry!” Jack screamed.
Harlow reached for the drawer in the counter and began to pull it open.
Jack bumped my shoulder hard. I cried out, startled.
“He’s going for his gun,” Jack shouted. “Shoot him! Shoot him—fast—Poppy!”
I raised the pistol. I couldn’t think. Everything went bright white, as if there was some kind of electrical surge. I felt a surge in my brain, too. As if a powerful charge was burning away all thought.
“Shoot him!” Jack cried.
And the gun went off. I didn’t even mean to pull the trigger. The gun went off with a powerful explosion, powerful enough to make my arm jerk behind me. So loud. So loud.
The gun went off—and Harlow grabbed his head with both hands.
I shot him in the head!
A long horrifying groan of pain escaped Harlow’s open mouth. His eyes rolled up in his head. His hands fell away from his face, and he slumped behind the counter, hitting the floor with a heavy thud.
“Nooooooo!” I shrieked. “Noooooo! I shot him. I shot him.”
I spun away, the floor tilting and swaying. I waved frantically at Manny. “Turn it off! Turn it off, Manny. I shot him. I shot him in the head!”
27
Poppy Continues
My legs were shaking like rubber. My knees started to fold. I was still gripping the gun. It felt as if it weighed a hundred pounds in my hand.
Manny didn’t move. He kept his lens locked on us.
“P-please . . . ,” I stuttered. “I . . . shot . . . him.”
Ivy and Jeremy stared at me. Even through the masks I could see the horror in their eyes.