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first,” he said.
    Emily squealed as he did just that, plunging tongue into the top of the shake, licking out a giant scoop of whipped cream and chomping down on the two strawberries that garnished the top. She pulled her glass toward her and did the same, her nose suddenly covered in the sticky, sweet cream, her mouth flooded with strawberry.
    Ana started pushing her out of the booth. “Gross!” She giggled. “You two are whipped cream piglets !”
    Suddenly Emily was gasping and snorting whipped cream up her nose. “Wait!” she said, trying to catch her breath from laughing. “I’m about to asphyxiate on whipped cream!”
    â€œServes you right, you little oinker! Out of my booth. You have to go over there and sit with Brandon.”
    Emily laughed, obediently swinging around the end of the table while Brandon slid over to make room for her on his side. Ana pulled out her phone and began snapping pictures of the two of them while grunting like a pig between laughs.
    If Emily had chosen a different method to start eating her dessert, one that didn’t involve getting whipped cream all over her face, then maybe Ana wouldn’t have felt compelled to send her to the other side of the table to sit with Brandon. Then she wouldn’t have had her back to the door, and shemight’ve been able to see what was going on before it happened. She might’ve been able to stop it.
    If Emily had just continued driving, and if they had gone past Rick’s Diner and just stopped at a rest stop or some other fast-food restaurant for something to eat, then they wouldn’t have been in the diner at all. If they weren’t in the diner, they never would have gotten into the situation.
    But it was all moot anyway, because she had turned off the highway, and they had decided to eat at that diner, and she had smashed her face into the whipped cream, and she had been sent to the other side of the table, where she couldn’t see the front door.
    And because she couldn’t see the front door, she didn’t see it when the woman with the spiky hair and long trench and the man with the chopped-up hoodie and excessive tattoos pulled ski masks over their faces, raised two guns above their heads, and screamed over the noise of the restaurant:
    â€œPUT YOUR HANDS IN THE AIR! THIS IS A ROBBERY!”
    This definitely was not part of Emily’s itinerary.

chapter 7
    Emily threw her hands into the air, as did Brandon, but Ana just froze, her mouth hanging open. Emily felt her eyes go wide as she stared at Ana and hissed, “Hands. Up!”
    But Ana looked at her as if a fuse had blown in her brain. “Wait. What? Who are those people?” she asked.
    â€œThey’re . . . bandits .” Even as the word escaped her lips in a whisper Emily felt Brandon turn to stare at her.
    â€œBandits?” he asked.
    â€œYes,” she said under her breath. “Bandits.”
    â€œNot to split hairs, but don’t bandits ride horses?” Brandon’s eyes narrowed quizzically.
    â€œWho cares ?” Emily hissed. She looked at Ana. “Just put your hands up, like they said!”
    The male bandit smashed his gun against the counter and yelled, “Open this register!”
    As Emily and Brandon turned to see what was happening, Emily heard Ana give a short staccato shriek, and she realized that they had reached the point of no return when it came to Ana in any crisis, whether it was being present during an armed robbery or seeing a 40-percent-off sale at her favoritestore in the mall. First was the confusion and disbelief, then the silence, and then . . . the shrieking.
    This time Ana seemed to be attempting to control this by holding a hand over her mouth, which was actually helping to muffle the sound enough that it wasn’t too obvious over the music coming from the jukebox in the corner. What was obvious was her other hand, which she had finally