Chapter Text
It was all because of a Slushie.
If I had known I was about to die because of a blue raspberry Slushie, would I have gone into the gas station? Definitely NOT.
But my best friend Paola Bianchi thought otherwise.
If I had to describe Paola, I would choose force of nature. Paola was a rather... influential person. She was short, petite, tiny, whatever you want to call it, but made up for her height by wearing combat boots. Her black jeans had so many holes it looked like she had gotten into a fight with a thornbush, and she wore a black leather jacket over a white twenty one pilots merch T-shirt. There were multiple piercings in her ears, and she had short, choppy black hair, pale skin smattered with freckles, and fierce brown eyes.
"I wanted to get a nose ring," Paola had once told me, "but my mama told me sixth grade was too young."
"Oh," I had said, pushing my glasses up my nose.
My dad told me that I'm the polar opposite of Pao. I'm tall and lanky, with brown hair and black square-framed glasses. I like to wear plain, simple hoodies and jeans, and my one pair of Converse are passed down from my older brother, C.J. I never leave the house without my backpack full of books. Aaaaand I take school seriously, unlike Paola.
But it's been me and her, the punk and the nerd, for a long time.
"I'm thiiiiiiiiirsty," Paola whined.
"Should've brought some water, then," I told her, "you were the one who suggested we should play Frisbee in the park."
Paola stopped dead on the sidewalk. "Nathan Austin Maxwell Fadler."
I kept walking. "Saying my full name won't heeelp," I taunted her in a singsong voice.
Pao glared at me. "You- you- idiota! I'll push you into the traffic!"
I looked back at her, adjusting the straps on my backpack. "Pao, you would never do that."
"I'll tell everyone that you have a crush on Addison Laylee!"
I froze, mortified. Addison Laylee was the prettiest and most popular girl at school. I bet she would be disgusted if the nerd liked her.
"Fine."
"C'mon, then, amico! I know a gas station around here!"
She ran off, her boots stamping on the sidewalk, and I had no choice but to follow her.
It was a sunny Saturday morning in northeast Calgary. The air was crisp and cars drove past us onto 68th Street. We ran past the field where a man was meditating, sidestepped several piles of dog poop, and greeted the Running Man, an old man who always seemed to be running. Being July, we had the whole summers day to ourselves.
We pressed buttons and ran down crosswalks. Paola ducked behind the Co-op, ran down the A&W Drive Thru, and stopped. I stopped too, wheezing.
"A-are yo-u d-d-d...one now..." I gasped, crouching down on the parking lot tarmac.
"Man, I thought someone with legs as long as yours would be able to run faster," Pao said, straightening her earrings shaped like pineapples, "anyway, I'm even more ready for that Slushie now."
"Ugh." I stood up. My throat was dry and scratchy. I hated to agree with Paola at a time like this, but I would also love a Slurpee. (Don't tell her I said that.)
An old, run-down gas station was behind the A&W. A flickering sign displayed the Alberta gas price, and the pumps were rusted. There were advertisements pasted on the cracked windows. Inside was totally dark, the OPEN sign the only sign it was, well, open.
I sighed pushing my glasses up my sweaty nose. "Paola, only a crackpot like you would buy a Slurpee from here."
She looked at me, her mocha eyes glinting seriously in the July morning sun. "Nathan, mi amico, you worry too much."
Then she pushed the door open with a creeak.