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with is that I’ve gone off the deep end. Why else would I be robbing her father’s store? And what really throws me is she actually seems to care about it.
    Then, just when I think things can’t possibly get any worse, a bell sounds behind me. It takes a second before I realize what it means.
    It means someone else has come into the store.

Chapter Eleven
Rosie
    Daniel is staring at the guy in the mask behind me. He’s staring like he thinks if he concentrates hard enough, he’ll be able to see through the mask.
    Then, out of the corner of my eye, I catch movement, and I see that my dad doesn’t have both hands up in the air anymore. Somehow he’s managed to edge sideways just enough that he’s standing right behind Daniel. He lowers one hand. He’s looking at the guy in the mask as he bends ever so slightly to reach under the counter. What is he doing?
    His hand re-emerges. It’s wrapped around a gun.
    A gun!
    Where did it come from? I’ve never seen a gun in the store before. Is it new? There’s been a rash of robberies lately. The cops say it’s because of all the drugs in the neighborhood, which is a relatively new thing. My dad has been complaining about it, about all the stickups and how the only thing that ever happens is that insurance rates go up for the storeowners.
    â€œThey get robbed twice,” he says. “First by the punks and the junkies and then by the insurance companies. And you know what? Neither of those two parties understands the concept of an honest day’s work.”
    Or has the gun been there all along? Not that it matters. It’s out now, and my father’s hand is remarkably steady as he holds it so that it’s aimed at the man in the mask behind me.
    I know the masked man has seen the gun, because he flinches. His hand tightens on my arm. My heart slams to a stop. Someone is going to get hurt, and it could be me. I’m in the middle between two men who are pointing guns at each other.
    Then Daniel says, “Leon?”
    I can’t help myself. I spin around, a bunch of different thoughts colliding in my head. Leon, telling me he wanted to come and see me tonight. Leon, frowning whenever I tell him I can’t go out on account of my father and how strict he is, how mean he is, what a temper he has. Leon, feeling sorry for me and telling me he would do anything for me—anything. The rumors I’ve heard about Leon’s family—especially about Leon’s father, which is what gave me the idea in the first place. The surprise I felt when the man in the mask grabbed my arm—how loose his grip was, almost gentle. The masked man’s funny voice, weird, unnaturally deep, like he’s hiding something. I suddenly realize: like he’s hiding his real voice.
    I have to know.
    I turn my back on the gun in my father’s hand and face the gun the man in the mask is holding. But I don’t look at it. Instead, I look at the eyes peeking out from the eyeholes. They’re hazel, like Leon’s eyes, with tiny flecks of green in them, also like Leon’s eyes. Around them are stubby brown lashes, just like Leon’s.
    I look at the mouth that’s visible in the mouth hole, but it’s harder to notice anything special about it. Then I reach out my hand. I’m sure it’s Leon— sure enough that I plan to pull off the mask and prove it to myself. He watches me. He sees my hand reach out. He jumps back far enough that I can’t touch him.
    That’s when the bell above the door jangles.
    That’s when Corey walks in.
    He doesn’t notice anything strange at first because he isn’t looking at my father or at the man in the mask. I don’t think he even notices the mask. No, he’s looking at me, and his face is flushed. I can tell that he’s angry—when Corey is angry, he doesn’t hide it.
    â€œWhat’s taking so long?” he demands.