Page 84 of Late Fees

“Okay,” she said, looking like she was considering the challenge. “What about root beer annnnnd cream soda? I don’t normally like cream soda, but maybe with the root beer, it’ll taste like a float.”

“A root beer float without the ice cream, huh?” I asked, intrigued. “Why not?”

We filled our cups, smelling the rich sweetness of the vanilla. Tilly dipped her nose into the cup, only to have it covered in foam. It was so light and fluffy, though, that she didn’t notice. Without thinking, I brushed the suds from her nose. She recoiled ever-so-slightly; her face clouded with uneasiness.

“Sorry.

“No,” she said with a soft smile, her cheeks turning a deep shade of pink. “It’s okay. Should we, uh…get something to eat? I suppose you’re boycotting Reese’s tonight?”

With a laugh, I followed her to the candy aisle. “Seems only fitting, right?”

“Right.”

“So, what should we have instead?”

“These,” she said, grabbing a bag of Butterfinger BBs with Bart Simpson on the wrapper. “I haven’t had them in forever.”

“I’ve never had them,” I said. “They didn’t have those in Norway.”

“Oh, right. Do you want to try them? They taste a lot like a Butterfinger.”

“How about you get those,” I said, scanning the rest of the candy and grabbing a giant package of gummy worms. “And I’ll get these.”

“All right,” she said with a giggle. “This ought to be interesting.”

After paying for our food and drinks, we walked outside, passing the guys still sitting on the curb. When we crossed the parking lot, I turned to Tilly.

“After you,” I said, gesturing toward her cup. Playfully, she rolled her eyes, pretending to be annoyed. She took a sip and smiled.

“Not bad.”

“Yeah?” I asked before taking a sip of my own drink. The sweetness of the vanilla cream balanced perfectly with the sharp, earthy root beer flavor. “Yeah, pretty good.”

“I mean, it’s not a Cherry Coke Slurpee, but I’ll drink it.”

“Want to keep walking?” I asked. Tilly nodded.

“So, what did you want to be when you were little? Did you always want to be an animator?”

“Kinda, yeah. I watched Saturday morning cartoons just like everybody else. I remember watching an episode of Thunder Cats and wishing they had drawn one of the cats differently. I grabbed a big stack of paper and started drawing the cat how I envisioned him.”

“Really? That’s so sweet.”

“And then, of course, it was like I’d opened up Pandora’s box. I started drawing every cartoon character I could think of. I’d watch the shows and study the features of the characters, making flipbooks to make them move.”

“Like what?”

“Scooby-Doo, He-Man, and my favorite: the Dungeons & Dragons characters. I had stacks and stacks of those guys with all their weapons and stuff.”

“Oh, my God, I remember that cartoon. My brother watched it every week. I always liked the intro for it—the kids get on a ride at an amusement park, right?”

“Yep.”

Tilly’s expression became more animated, and she moved her hands around. “And all of a sudden, they go through a portal or something, and they have to save the universe from evil or whatever. And there’s the short, little dungeon master dude, and—”

“So…your brother watched it, huh?” I teased her.

She smiled in spite of herself. “Okay, fine, I watched it, too. We only had one TV, and we were allowed to eat our cereal in front of it on Saturday mornings.”

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