Page 4 of Grumpy Girl and Poinsettias

Panic sets in, and I lock up, staring at the paper bag. One that could be from any grocery store or kids lunch for school.

“Now!” he screams in my face.

I startle and look to him. Dark eyes pop from behind the black ski mask. One hand is lodged in his hoodie pocket, and something is pointing at me.

Is that a gun?

“Now, blondie!”

“What?”

“You heard me, money… bag… now!”

I close my head and shake my head to knock some sense into myself. “Oh God, okay… okay…”

All I can hear is the blood flowing through my veins as it pumps aggressively. My hearing is a whoosh-whoosh. My chest heaves at the lack of oxygen. I’m unable to easily intake any depth in my panic. My hands shake as I collect the money to put in the bag. I drop a few bills, and the robber growls at me.

There’s a gun pointed at me. Just do as he says.

Tears build in my eyes, but I hold them in. Not again. Mari and Cali are going to be so upset. And I love working here.

Crazy name and all.

I shove the change in as well. He wants it all and keeps pointing when I stop.

This was supposed to only be temporary, for the winter, but they’re so nice. My co-workers are so much fun that I started to hope that I could stay on after. Have some friends. Turn this into something more.

They’ll never keep me on now.

More money falls out of my hand and onto the floor.

“I want all of it! Stop dropping it!” The hood he’s wearing muffles his voice only minimally.

“Oh, okay. Okay.” My voice doesn’t even sound like me. It’s tight and almost squeaky.

I tense up further, but I squat and pick up all the money and put it in the bag. My heart aches at what is in there.

I’m grateful that most shoppers pay with cards, but there’s a few days’ worth of money in there since they haven’t made a deposit yet. It has to be close to $1000 in there. Even more than last time.

“Is there some in a safe somewhere?”

Eyes wide, I stare at him, working at computing what he is saying. “Huh?”

“Is there money in a safe?!” he yells at me.

I shake my head. I’m delivery, and I don’t know anything about a safe.

“No… no, that’s it. Why are you doing this?” My voice cracks.

He stops. “I don’t have any other choice.”

“Yes, you do. Walk out of here without the bag, and I won’t call the police. Promise.”

The man rushes toward me, grabs the bag, and darts for the door.

I grab my cell from the back counter and start dialing 911. As it starts ringing, I exit the front door.

I find my voice, “Help! Somebody, please help. I’ve been robbed. Help!”

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