“Ignore my friend,” Emily said to us, rolling her eyes. “She’s inhaled too many pizza fumes today.”
“We don’t sell the shirts,” Dawn said, bending down under the counter. “But we hired his guy who lasted, like, one day and then quit in a huff last week.” She held it up, turning it around so I could see. The name on the front read T.J., and on the back was printed, CAPTAIN PIZZA . . . YOU GET THE GENERAL IDEA! “I could give it to you if you want. I’m pretty sure he’s never coming back.”
“That’s awesome,” I said, and next to me, Toby nodded and grabbed the shirt out of Dawn’s hands. “Thank you so much.”
We were halfway across the parking lot, heading for the car, when I saw my dad walking out of Paradise Ice Cream, a pint in one hand and his car keys in the other, whistling in a way that I’m sure he thought was nonchalant but actually wasn’t. “Got the ice cream,” he called to us in a loud, far-too-cheerful voice, glancing once behind him. He started walking fast down the steps, and I didn’t understand what was happening until the door to Paradise opened and an annoyed-looking girl stepped out.
“Hey!” she called, as my dad started walking even faster. “Sir? You’re not supposed to take the sample spoons!”
I looked at my dad, feeling my jaw fall open as he tossed the keys in my direction. I caught them with one hand, which surprised me so much I almost dropped them again. “Unlock the car,” he said to me, now breaking into a run. “I think we should get out of here.”
The girl was still standing in the doorway glaring at him, phone held out in one hand, like she was debating calling the police. I unlocked the car, and Toby and I got in just a second before my dad did. He handed me the pint of ice cream, I handed him the keys, and he started the car and roared out of the parking lot. “You stole the sample spoon?”
“Well, she didn’t want to give it to me,” my dad said, glancing into the rearview mirror once, like he was making sure the Paradise security team wasn’t giving chase. “I offered to pay her for it,” he said, slowing down a little now as he must have realized that he wasn’t actually involved in a high-speed pursuit. “Here,” he said, pulling a spoon out from his shirt pocket, then glanced behind him at Toby. “Did we get the pizza?”
She nodded. “And a slogan with a pun in it,” she said. “So I think we’re in pretty good shape.” She leaned forward, motioning for me to give her my phone. “How are we on time?”
“We have thirty-five minutes left,” I said. I looked at the list. “We need a place where we can get a lot of little stuff, because some of them have big points value, for some reason.”
“I know where to go,” Toby said, leaning forward between the front seats. “Mr. Walker?”
“Talk to me, Toby,” he said, and she grinned.
“Take the right up there,” she said. “And step on it.”
Six pretty harrowing minutes later, my dad screeched up at the entrance to the gas station/mini-mart and swung into an open parking space with a spin of the wheel. I had a feeling it was going to be hard for him to return to regular driving after this, and not driving while pretending to be James Bond.
“Are you sure you don’t want help?” I asked, turning to look at Toby.
“No,” Toby said, hand already on the car door handle. “This one is all me.”
I nodded, even as I snuck a glance at the clock. We only had half an hour left, and we still had to make it back to the Winthrop statue, but Toby felt she had something to prove and was insisting on doing this alone.
“How long did she say she needed for this?” my dad asked a minute later, looking straight ahead through the glass doors, where we could see Toby dashing up one aisle and down another, then doubling back to the first one. While there were a few people pumping gas, there was nobody in the mini-mart except the guy behind the counter, which, judging from how crazy Toby was looking from out here, was probably a good thing.
I glanced down at the time I’d set on my phone. “She said she only needs seven minutes.” I wasn’t sure she was going to make it, since she was still running around the store and she had only three minutes left.
“I’ll take that action,” my dad said, raising his eyebrows at me.
“You think she can’t do it?” I asked, as we both watched Toby come to a standstill, apparently distracted by the magazine display.