Read The Wonder Bread Summer for Free Online Page B

to haul cases of wine back from Napa Valley, or discount pots and pans from Mexico. And Penny had had an antique Triumph convertible that Allie rarely rode in. It was a two-seater car, something Penny used to go off on her own while Allie stayed home doing crossword puzzles and word searches with Wai Po.
    Allie let the car glide off the freeway. There was an In-N-Out Burger on one side and a gas station on the other. She wished she had enough money, and gas, to use the drive-thru. In front of the In-N-Out Burger was a palm tree that appeared to have been blown halfway down by the wind. Allie was so busy staring at the palm tree that she almost missed the turn in for the gas station. She cranked the wheel to the left, pulled in too fast, and then hit the clutch and brake, stopping with a squeak. As she turned off the engine and pulled up the emergency brake, she realized a man was shouting at her. He was in a blue jumpsuit. Pale skin. A swoop of golden-brown hair. Teeth whiter than the whites of his eyes.
    “Yes?” Allie tilted her head out the open window. The guy approached.
    “Your gas tank’s on the other side,” he said, and he smiled in a sly, almost bashful way.
    “Oh, okay. Thanks.” Allie started up the car and drove around to the other side.
    “Fill it up?” the guy asked.
    “Uh, yeah.” Allie looked around and realized she was at the full-service pump. She was too embarrassed about the wrong-side-gas-tank mishap to undo the full-service mistake.
    When the nozzle had clicked full, the guy unlatched it, then leaned toward Allie’s window and said, “Eighteen dollars and sixty cents.”
    “Ah.” Allie opened her mouth and smiled up at him. In her post-drug delirium, she had been aware that she had no money for In-N-Out Burger, but had somehow failed to understand that she had no money for gas, either. She lifted her butt off the seat and stuck her hand down the front pocket of her jeans to make a show of searching for money, although she knew the only thing in her pocket was her single house key.
    “Just a sec,” Allie said. She reached toward the floor, shifted aside the Glamour magazine that sat there, pulled up her grimy purse, and dropped it on her lap. Her wallet was tucked below the eviction notice. Allie opened it and rummaged through each empty pocket. She wasn’t sure where this fake search would lead, but it certainly was buying time. Allie unzipped the change purse and looked at the pennies and a dime. She dumped them out in her palm. They felt sticky as if they had once been glued together.
    With a hopeful grin, Allie held out the handful of coins.
    “Do you have a credit card?” The guy flashed a closed-mouthed smile. Allie could see that this was as hard for him as it was for her.
    “No. But . . .” Allie popped open the glove box in the hope that Beth kept a stash of cash there. Nothing. She glanced at the Wonder Bread bag. “Do you—” She broke off, not sure how to put it. Somehow, in the delusional drug-induced fantasy of paying herself by selling the coke, Allie had never thought about how to conduct an actual transaction.
    “Do I?” The guy smiled again.
    Allie was relieved to have an opening. “Do you want some coke in exchange for the gas?” It was almost shocking to hear the words come out of her mouth so smoothly. But, Allie told herself firmly, if she wanted to get out of the situation she had put herself in, she better get used to it.
    “Coke? Cocaine?” The guy looked confused.
    “Uh . . . yeah. You’re not a cop, are you?”
    He laughed. “Nah. I’m a student at UCLA. My uncle owns this station and I work here every summer.”
    “Cool! My best friend from high school, Kathy Kruger, goes to UCLA. Do you know her?! Sometimes she goes by Kat.” Kathy Kruger was mellow. Allie had always wished she could be as mellow as Kathy. Kathy never seemed excited about anything and it made her seem wiser and more sophisticated than Allie.
    “No. But, listen. If you