Chapter 18
Lackey. Underling. Minion.
For all that Tiff claimed she was done with her Class and vowed never to touch it again, she couldn’t help it when her mind wandered toward logistics. In this specific case, as Victoria had said, “outsourcing.”
That meant hiring on thugs, right? Only, Tiff didn’t want thugs. She didn’t want any of the above, to be fair, but as she was sitting in Homeroom, waiting for the bell to ring, that was what was going through her mind.
Unfortunately, her “staring into space” routine was not perfect, and as it so happened, she’d been staring at Candace for almost 7 minutes.
The girl knew; she’d been timing it, but she was trying to give Tiff the benefit of the doubt.
Henchman. Toadie. Red Shirt.
Candice narrowed her eyes and tossed an eraser straight at Tiff’s forehead. She missed, but it startled Tiff back into her senses.
“Why do I get the feeling you’re thinking something really weird?” Candice asked in almost a growl.
Red Shirt is too… cliché. Henchman. Henchman? Hench…woman?
Tiff seemed to realize she’d been staring at Candice and cleared her throat.
“Candice, would you prefer ‘henchman’ or ‘henchwoman’? Hypothetically.”
Candice’s eyes were almost slits; she was that suspicious.
“Why’d you have to bring equality into it? You’re just making it weird.”
Tiff was about to reply, but that’s when the bell conveniently decided to ring. Mr. Hendricks walked through the door, rapped the whiteboard several times with his knuckles as he passed, and leaned against the front of his desk.
“Alright boys and girls, it’s September 26th. Do you know what that means?”
He was answered by a lukewarm mutter unidentifiable in vagueness and a few bold “no!”s. His shoulders shook silently as he laughed to himself.
“Not much, I’m afraid, since none of you are on the Varsity Football team!”
“What about cheerleaders?” Candice called out loudly.
“Can’t forget our cheerleaders!” Mr. Hendricks raised his arms with about as much enthusiasm as the kids afforded to him. “Gooooooo Hawks!”
A few kids mimicked his cheer and Candice looked sufficiently pacified.
“Anyway,” he continued, rubbing his hands together, “September isn’t important, but October is! Don’t forget we have a field trip coming up!”
Every head in the class perked up. Field trips were one of the things that never lost their charm, no matter how much schooling a person went through. While swing sets and monkey bars stopped being cool the moment kids entered junior high, field trips never went out of fashion. For one, it generally meant getting out of other classes for the entire day; for another, it also meant the likelihood of being assigned homework that night drastically decreased. But the most exciting reason of all…was that it got them off campus!
“That’s right!” Mr. Hendricks capitalized on the growing excitement in the air. “We’re going to the DMA!”
A few kids deflated like their fun-balloon just popped, but mostly everyone in the class remained attentive. Mr. Hendricks nodded.
“It’s been on the schedule since the beginning of the year, so make sure you get those permission slips in.”
There was some vague nodding and general assent. Mr. Hendricks wasn’t swayed.
“Ryan, that includes you. You’ve got the memory of a goldfish.”
“Hey!” the boy called out.
“Is it true?” his neighbor elbowed him in the ribs.
“Yeah,” he said, slumping down on his desk.
Another kid perked up.
“Yo, what if our parents are supers?” Mario asked. Half the class started chuckling. The Agrusas ran an Italian deli, and neither Mario nor his parents were anything other than first-rate Citizens. Mario was quite popular in the class whenever group projects came around because his family always catered. He was also a bit of a clown.
“Then get them to chaperone!” Mr. Hendricks pointed his fingers at Mario, making several people laugh.
A small, pale hand rose silently in the air.
Several kids noticed and grew quiet; this was a new development. Theophania did not speak in class.
“Miss VanDyne?” Mr. Hendricks used the same enthusiasm, but it felt different somehow. The entire class turned around in their seats, but Tiff let their gazes bounce off her.
“What if our parents are actually supers?”
Several murmurs rang out.
“The goddess in the truck….”
“You’re an idiot.”
“Step on me….”
“He’s a bigger idiot.”
“Well,” Mr. Hendricks stopped to think about it. “I suppose it…doesn’t actually change the fact that you need to get your permission slip signed. But, Tiff, I know you turned yours in day one. Honestly, if they want to chaperone, we’d be glad to have a registered Meta escort us.”
Tiff nodded. Honestly, she wasn’t going to bring it up, but Mario made her curious. Not that she wanted her parents to come along…and not that she didn’t want them coming, either. Back at the beginning of school, she was super excited for this trip. Now, she couldn’t back out. That would require her to get a different form signed, which would require another signature, and her parents both knew how much she was looking forward to this. Now, if she could have them nearby…it might give her peace of mind?
“Your parents are supers?” Candice leaned over and hissed. Tiff turned to her and shrugged.
“Yes.”
“You have any idea how rare that is?” Candice leaned so far forward she nearly fell out of her chair.
“Actually, is it?” Tiff asked. “I mean, to me it makes sense that two people in the Meta community might fall in love.”
“Is that what happened with your folks?”
“Well,” Tiff thought about it. “Not really. The way my mom tells it, several bikers were hitting on her in a bar, but she gave them the cold shoulder. My dad, who also visited the same place, had seen her come in once or twice. He’d had one too many already and didn’t like how the bikers were talking to the pretty girl, so he told them off. Big mistake. Well, my mom stopped them from beating him to death, drank the entire bar under the table, arm wrestled the whole pile of drunks at the same time, won, then tossed my dad over her shoulder and carried him home.”
Candice’s face slowly drew blank with a growing look of apathy.
“I think I need to meet your parents.”
“Oh, and my sister delves Rifts.”
“And you didn’t think this was important to share before this year?!”
The day went smoothly. Tiff partnered with Candice for IPSS, which was more screen summoning and reading a chapter about quests. Mr. Hendricks didn’t have an active quest, so he couldn’t share an example, and nobody in the class had advanced far enough to be recognized by the System.
All except Tiff, who was keeping her lips sealed on that front.
While it did amuse her to think how the rest of the class might react to some of the Quests the System sprang on her, she didn’t quite fancy the second conversation after the initial shock wore off.
Such as, “Why are you being prompted to oversee a shakedown?”
Tiff didn’t know either, but she assumed somebody nearby was being robbed.
Besides that mildly upsetting revelation, class was good. They dove into their textbooks and got bored out of their minds for the next 45 minutes, when it was time to go to their next class.
Eventually, Tiff made it to lunchtime and found herself in line in the cafeteria. Normally, when Melissa was home, she’d pack all the girls a lunch. Even Victoria, who no longer went to school, but she was man enough to show up to work with a brown sack labeled with her name in black Sharpie. Except, it said, “Tori,” and the “o” was a heart. Nobody dared to laugh, because the last person that did got a broken nose.
When Melissa was out truckin’, it was Rick’s responsibility. Now, Rick was a decent cook. Nothing like Melissa, who had zero business being as good at cooking as she was, but he could slap together a sandwich like the best of them.
Or…he could slip them a crisp fiver and let them buy their own.
…technically, not a 5-dollar bill. It was a prepaid lunch card the school could recharge.
Tiff enjoyed school lunch because she could eat less than what her mom packed. Was it as tasty? Absolutely not. But did it come in a 5-pound bag? No.
While that meant she could bludgeon a man to death with her food, it was also way too much for Tiff, so she got in line for some generic white lumpy stuff, some chopped green cylinders, and an oval of meaty protein that was probably labeled: Grade D, But Edible.
At least the dessert was prepackaged pudding.
Tiff found her way to the secluded rear table, and she was only mildly surprised to have someone join her several minutes later.
“I can’t be a henchman,” Candice said, seemingly out of the blue.
“Hmm?” Tiff asked, looking up. Candace sighed impatiently.
“Like, hellooo Tiff? I’m the Hero, remember? You’re going to be the Sidekick.”
“Ah,” Tiff nodded sagely. “I remember.”
“Why do I get the feeling you don’t?” Candice asked in a wounded voice. Then she paused. “Now that I think of it, you’ve never seen us put on a routine, have you? Look, I get it, I don’t actually expect you to try out for the cheer team,” she chuckled. “You’d need a lot more practice for that. And, I can’t believe I’m saying this, maybe a few pounds. Cheerleaders are sticks…so what does that make you? A line? A crack? And, girl, do you know there’s a thing called the sun? You pasty. I’m white, but you’re white. You get me?”
“I burn,” Tiff rolled her eyes. “Like heretics at the stake.”
“That is oddly specific and incredibly creepy,” Candice said conversationally. Tiff stared at her. She meant to be sarcastic, but Candice was very good at rolling with the punches. “Perfectly on brand. Now, back to cheerleading. I honestly thought you might show up at the game last Friday.”
“I…,” Tiff began, but when she looked up at Candice, she could tell the girl was genuinely hurt. “...am sorry,” Tiff finished lamely. But she did genuinely feel bad, and she couldn’t say otherwise anyway. “Do you really want me to support you at a game?”
“Yes,” Candice muttered. Her voice was barely more than a whisper. Her normally upbeat, bubbly, gratingly sunny demeanor was gone. “Look, I don’t know why I’m telling you, but…I’ve hung out with you for a week now, and you’re more real than all my other friends combined. I don’t know what it is, but you always tell it how it is, right to my face. And I can’t hate you for it. Unlike my ‘friends’, who… never mind. Let’s just say the squad is…full of skanky ho-bags. Look, I don’t know, I was trying to think of something clever but I can’t.”
“But they’re your team?” Tiff tilted her head. Candice gave out a bark of a laugh.
“Ha! You say that. Some team,” she scoffed. “There’s more politics in a cheer squad than the White House. I might not even make it back on the team next year.”
“Ah,” Tiff sighed. She watched the girl wilt; she understood how much the team meant to her.
Well, no, she didn’t have a clue, but she could imagine. And right now, it seemed like Candice needed a friend.
“Sure…I can come to a game. But I’ll need to bring my sister.”
“Really?” Candice perked up, but her eye twitched and her lip quirked into a half-smile. “Wait, your sister? What, do you need a babysitter?”
“According to my mom?” Tiff groaned. “Yes.”
“A football game?” Amy asked. For a second day in a row, Amy was taking the bus back home. At least this time Tiff wasn’t suspicious of her motivations. They were clearly on display. And now that the secret wasn’t so secret, Tiff couldn’t muster up the energy to rebuff the inquisitive, energetic girl.
“Yes, Candice is a cheerleader. She wants me to support the team.”
Amy squinted.
“Do you even know anything about football?”
Tiff scoffed.
“I know people like to argue that soccer is supposed to be football."
“Well, yes,” Amy conceded, “People on the internet will argue about anything. But besides that?”
“I know…the field is measured in yards?” Tiff stated. She made it sound more like a question and Amy wasn’t convinced. “The ball looks like an egg?”
“Why are you going again?” Amy asked, rolling her eyes. “You know less than I do, and I know nothing.”
“I told you,” Tiff sighed, exasperated. “To support Candice. And it’s not like it’s set in stone that I’m going. The game’s not until Friday night, and I’m only going if Tori comes with me.”
“Yeah, maybe she can help you blend in better,” Amy chuckled. “At least she knows which way you’re supposed to kick the ball.”
Tiff started nodding and then paused. She narrowed her eyes and glared at Amy.
“You don’t kick the ball in football.”
“It depends on who you ask,” Amy grinned deviously, so Tiff ignored her for the rest of the ride home.
Things did not improve when she got home.
“A football game?” Victoria asked with disbelief.
The three girls were crammed inside Tiff’s small room. She was sitting at her desk, trying to focus on her homework, but for some reason, out of everywhere in the world they could be, her sisters chose Tiff’s room to hang out in.
“Why do you want to go to a football game?”
“That’s what I said!” Amy agreed enthusiastically from her position loafing on Tiff’s bed. The first thing Amy had done once the sisters tramped into Tiff’s room was spill the juicy beans all over Victoria. What was this? Theophania VanDyne, famed recluse, wanting to go- gasp -outside?! To socialize?!
Tiff was starting to think her sisters didn’t think very highly of her people skills.
“I told you,” Tiff explained for the Nth time, “It’s not the football game. I’m going to support Candice.”
“This is the first I’ve heard of this,” Victoria muttered. She stretched her foot over, hooked her foot around Tiff’s chair, and spun her around. Tiff sighed as her homework floated away from her and she came to a stop staring at Victoria’s stone-cold, serious face.
“Tiff,” Victoria said with the severity of a grand judge delivering a verdict. “Have you made a friend?”
Tiff gave her sisters the most unimpressed stare she could muster. Both of them were trying, and failing, to hide their grins.
“Fine,” she spat, standing up. “I’m going to go hang out with Dad.”
Tiff sat in her dad’s office, staring at the man behind the desk.
Rick sat behind said desk, staring at his middle daughter.
At the entrance to the room, the other two VanDyne girls fidgeted anxiously. They were leaning against the wall in the other room, trying stealthily to peek in. Both dad and daughter said nothing and continued their passive game of chicken.
To them, there was nothing awkward about the silence, but the energetic busibodies at the door couldn’t understand that. Just as they didn’t understand the unspoken game the duo was playing…which wasn’t quite the staring contest everyone thought it was. They were simply waiting to see which one would crack first…Victoria or Amy?
“What are they doing?” Amy hissed. She probably thought she was being stealthy. Victoria had a better presence of mind and kept her lips sealed while she elbowed her little sister.
Rick adjusted his wire-rimmed glasses.
Should we have mercy on them?
Tiff sniffed and flared her left nostril.
Let them fester. They were teasing me.
Rick raised his right brow and scratched his left ear.
But look at them, Tiff. They look so confused!
Tiff rolled her eyes.
Fiiiiiiiine.
It wasn’t Telepathy, nor did it have anything to do with Rick’s mastery of technology. In fact, it wasn’t a dialogue at all…unless one considered the unspoken language of introverts. Something think-for-yourselfing extroverts could never understand.
“Alright, girls, that’s enough,” Rick laughed. “Stop bothering your sister. She puts up with your antics enough.”
“Whaaaat?” Amy gasped. “How did…I mean, I didn’t do anything!”
“And yet, the only place Tiff could find peace and quiet was here in my study. Clearly, something was going on.”
“Yeah, but, well…Tiff was acting weird!”
“Amy,” Rick sighed. “We’ve been over this. People aren’t weird just because they aren’t you. Or is this about finding out what Tiff’s class is again? I told you to stop pestering your sister. When she’s ready, she’ll tell us what it is. Until then, leave her alone.”
Outwardly, Tiff looked calm and collected, but inwardly, her heart soared. He was a man of few words, but Tiff knew her Dad loved his girls very much.
“But I…, no,” Amy pouted. She looked like she wanted to complain, but she shook her head. Tiff tensed. Amy knew not to give away the big secret, but how would she do under pressure? “It’s just, Tiff made a friend!”
“Oh?” Rick looked pleasantly surprised, but Tiff was more shocked at Amy’s outburst. She was glad her little sister didn’t tattle on her, but on the other hand…she wasn’t that much of a loner! “That’s great! But, Amy, you know Tiff has friends.”
Tiff’s eyes widened, and she stared at Amy, judgingly. She lifted her hands and waved them at Rick as if exhibiting evidence before a jury. See? See??? People know!
“Yeah, but, you know…,” Amy stammered, but Rick shook his head.
“Sounds like you’ve got too much energy to burn,” he chuckled. “I know just the thing to burn off all that energy. How about we go bowling?”
“Wha….wait. Really?!” Amy instantly perked up. “Are you serious?”
Amy involuntarily started jogging in place, while Victoria started laughing. She picked up the smaller girl and moved her to the side, where, like a wind-up toy cranked to the max, she sprinted down the hall.
“Yes, really!” Rick called loudly.
“Yippeeeee!” came Amy’s echoing reply.
“Sounds great, Dad,” Victoria grinned. “But is that okay? Are you done with work? And what about dinner?”
“Don’t worry about it,” Rick waved a hand. “It was a slow day, and if they really need me, I’ve got my tablet. As for food, there’s a cafe attached to the bowling alley. They’ve got pretty good burgers.”
“Why is it you never cook when Mom’s not home?” Victoria grinned. “Not that I’m complaining.”
“Eh, I’m lazy, what can I say?” He shrugged. Tiff chuckled and gave a small smile.
“See?” Rick pointed to Tiff and nodded to Victoria. “There’s an improvement already. Now go collect your sister before she starts climbing the walls.”
Unlike Melissa’s truck, Rick didn’t drive a fancy car. It was a plain, blue minivan that could belong to any soccer mom. However, not only could it transport many excited children to the nearest park, but it also doubled as a mobile tech hub. Rick technically wasn’t a mechanic, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t pimp out his ride. For once, Amy wasn’t clambering for shotgun, because the back seats had a built-in NES. Currently it only had Tetris installed, but video games were video games, and Tiff spent the ride to the bowling alley quietly cheering her sister on as she tried for a high score. Amy’s overwhelming greed to build the perfect combination of blocks made her miss out on easier one-line clears…and inevitably always spelled her doom.
“Why, straight-line-block?” Amy whined as they pulled into the parking lot and the NES shut down. “Why have you forsaken me?”
“You must learn the ways of the T,” Victoria said sagely. “Only then shall you succeed.”
“What sort of crappy fortune cookie are you?” Amy grumbled. But when she looked up and saw the bright, neon lights proudly proclaiming Bouleva d Bowl, her eyes instantly lit up.
“Oh snap! We’re here! Look, look! There’s a pro shop! And a diner! OH! THEY HAVE AN ARCADE?!”
Victoria clamped the excitable girl to her side so she didn’t float away in ecstasy.
“Why don’t we come here more often?” Amy’s muffled voice demanded.
Tiff nodded along. Of all the places they went to as a family, bowling really wasn’t one. She looked up at her dad, who had an answer ready.
“Your mom’s banned,” he cackled. “She gets too excited and loses control of her strength. Last time we came, she wrecked two whole lanes and punched a hole straight out the back of the alley.”
“Really?” Amy asked. “How’d she do that?”
“You have any idea what a Might Meta can do with a 100-pound ball?” Victoria smirked. “It’s worse than a cannon. These lanes are reinforced, but damn, they ain’t standing up to that.”
Rick chuckled as he shook his head, but suddenly Tiff felt uneasy. She eyed the unsuspecting bowling alley in a new, darker light. Were they headed into a war zone?
No, obviously, they weren’t, even if it sort of smelled like one. Not that Tiff knew what war smelled like, but her brain was telling her that overused cooking oil and that sanitizer-deodorant they used to wipe down the shoes were primary ingredients. She wrinkled her nose and put Victoria in front of her, as if her big sister could block smells as effectively as sight.
Once they’d taken several steps inside, Tiff had to begrudgingly admit the bowling alley wasn’t as bad as her first impression led her to believe. Once her eyes adjusted to the dim entryway, she could see the lanes themselves were actually brightly lit. Large LCD screens hung above each lane, where small rings of seats formed horseshoes around the ball returns. The lanes themselves were sunk lower into the building, creating a sort of viewing platform for those above to stand or sit at as they enjoyed the other services the alley had to offer. To their immediate left was a lounge with blacked-out glass windows and a large doorman stationed at the entrance, while to the right was the counter where people could pay.
Behind it was a younger man in the alley’s uniform, a short-sleeved polo shirt green on one side and white on the other. He might have been a year or two older than Victoria, but he wasn’t blessed with any of her genes. He was of average height; with dirty blonde hair, roughly cut around his shoulders in a failed-punk way, and signs of a recent battle with acne that had gone rather poorly. Tiff pitied him already, but when he saw them approach and audibly sighed, she started to think her kindness might be wasted.
“By the game or by the hour?” The bored boy asked. His eyes were half closed, and Tiff swore if he used any less energy, he might fall asleep.
“Girls, what do you think?” Rick asked, turning to his daughters. Amy was already trying to scamper away, but Victoria had her clamped tightly to her side. Perhaps fittingly, somebody’s stomach answered for all of them.
“Maybe we do one game,” Victoria said sheepishly. “And then get dinner? Or if nobody else is hungry, I can get something for myself.”
“No, we’ll eat as a family,” Rich mused. “That sounds good.” He turned back to the youth and nodded. “One game.”
“Right,” the boy droned on in his perennially bored voice. He pulled out a small notebook and tore out four slips of paper, handing one to everybody. “Here’s a set of house rules; by law we need to give these out before people start playing. Make sure you read them, because we won’t be held liable in case of an accident. Size?”
Tiff looked up in time to see the boy holding out a pair of bowling shoes.
“5,” she muttered before looking back at the paper.
- Please see an attendant if you require bumpers.
- Please see an attendant if your ball gets stuck in a gutter.
- Play in your dedicated lane.
- Do not cross the foul line.
- Do not slide down the lane toward the pins.
- DO NOT THROW BALLS INTO CROSS LANES.
- DO NOT OVERHAND-PITCH BALLS TO THE PINS.
“Great,” the boy said, still bored out of his mind. He placed the last pair of shoes onto the counter and pointed to the walls in front of the lanes. “Balls are in the racks below the observation deck. Light balls to the left, heavy balls to the right.”
His eyes landed on Victoria and they widened slightly as he paused. Tiff wondered if his sleepy brain had finally caught up with him and he just noticed she was there.
“If you’re a Meta and need a heavier ball, they’re on the very far end,” he said, a little bit of life coming into his voice as it cracked. “Just, uh, make sure you read all the rules first. You know, for safety.”
“Thanks,” Victoria smirked, finally letting Amy lead her away.
Amy, of course, tried to pick up the heaviest ball she could manage. She started with something stupidly big, like an 18-pounder, but to her credit, she was able to lift it out of the rack and wobble it awkwardly all the way back to their lane. The moment Rick saw it, he made her put it back and find a different one, but if it was Tiff, she didn’t know if she’d have been able to lift it at all. Victoria, on the other hand, took time considering her choice. While Tiff instantly located the lightest children's ball possible (a neon yellow thing), Victoria had wandered off to the Meta section. She returned with a dense grey ball with black swirls, which looked like it might be made of metal.
Judging from how Victoria’s muscles were flexing as she balanced it in the crook of her elbow, there was a strong chance it actually was.
“Thought I’d try the 70-pounder today,” Victoria grinned. She gently set the ball into the holding tray with an ominous thud. “Normally I go for 50, but you know after, ah, I’m feeling rather pumped.”
She gave Tiff a knowing look, since her stats got upgraded alongside her Class, but Tiff only had eyes for that ball. It wasn’t much bigger than a normal bowling ball, but apparently, that thing weighed almost as much as she did.
“Tori…,” Tiff said nervously, “You aren’t going to, I don’t know, break everything, are you?”
“Please,” Victoria laughed. “There’s a Meta League that runs in the summer. These places know how to handle big balls.”
“Your mom knows how to-” Rick started to mutter, but Victoria slapped him on the back.
“Dad,” Victoria growled, but Tiff could see her fighting her own face. She clearly wanted to laugh.
“Right!” Rick cleared his throat. He spied Amy wobbling back to their station with a 15-pound ball. He shook his head. “Ames, how about you set us up with a score sheet?”
Amy plopped the ball into the trough and looked up at the screen. Her eyes widened and her head shot down, locked onto the computer.
“Oh, heck yes!”
“Oh, hell no!” Victoria panicked. “Dad, why?! Now we're going to end up with names like Imawesomsuace and PoopyMcPoopPants!”
The two girls started squabbling over the controls, but Tiff wasn’t paying attention. She wanted to scream. This was supposed to be relaxing. A fun night out with her family. A place where she didn’t need to worry about homework, school, or whether or not the British were the first people to call it soccer. But it wasn’t.
Because now that she was Awakened, the System was with her no matter where she went. All hours of the day, every day of the week. There was no place to run, no place to hide. She could not escape the System.
[New Quest!]
In Broad Daylight
Oversee a small gang committing armed robbery.
Progress: 1%
Reward: +20 Infamy
Tiff felt like she should panic, but her Skills kicked in. All she could feel was the cool, air-conditioned climate control of the bowling alley keeping out the hot Southern California afternoon. She wasn’t scared; she wasn’t afraid. If anything, she was mildly annoyed. This was her time. She knew the System only gave her quests when a target was nearby. As she glanced at the system window again, the progress percentage ticked up. 2%. Her eyebrow twitched in irritation. Who did they think they were?
Tiff schooled her face into something neutral so she wouldn’t alert her siblings. Ice running through her veins, she stood up. She turned around.
She felt herself deflate a little.
When Tiff thought of “armed robbery,” she thought of masked gunmen sticking up a bank. Well, there was a group of shady individuals acting extremely suspicious over by the arcade, but they didn’t fit the image in Tiff’s head.
There were about half a dozen men in their late 20s, early 30s. They were dressed in average, somewhat dingy clothing. Well, one of them wore a leather jacket, and one guy’s jeans were hovering somewhere around mid-thigh, but otherwise they didn’t look like robbers. But that didn’t mean they weren’t packing.
The guy with the jacket was twitchier than the rest, and Tiff could see a bulge in the large pocket. Maybe it was a gun, maybe it wasn’t. That was the problem; she really didn’t know. And even if she did…she had no idea what to do about it.
They were huddled around an ATM, but they were bunched together so tightly, Tiff didn’t know how they’d actually use it. One of the men dropped something, and Tiff saw the curved end of a crowbar as he bent down to pick it up. There seemed to be something attached to the screen. The longer Tiff stared, the more she started to wonder how they thought they were going to get away with whatever it was they had planned.
“Tiff? Hey, Tiff?” Rick’s voice drew her attention and she turned around, only to find him standing very close to her, looking at her with a worried frown. “I was saying, how does starting by age sound? Amy wants to go first, so you would be second. Hey, Tiff, are you alright?”
“I’m fine,” Tiff said easily enough. But then she stopped to consider. “Dad,” she said slowly, “I think the bowling alley is being robbed.”
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