“Twenty bucks?”

The girl shook her head. “I got to go. My mom’ll be all upset. I’m closin’ in seven minutes.”

“Call your mom. I’ll talk to her.”

The girl shook her head.

“I’m a customer,” Cassie declared, “and you’ve got to wait on me.”

“I guess . . . .”

Cassie scanned the menu posted behind the counter. “I want a double sherbet papaya delight, and I’m staying until you make it and I eat it.”

The girl said nothing.

“Wait a second.” Cassie rummaged through her purse. “Here’s the twenty. See it? I’ll give it to you if you’ll just tell me what would make you stay open later.”

“I wouldn’t tell you,” the girl said deliberately, “even if I liked you. Ma’am.”

“You can’t close while I’m in here. What would you do? Lock me in?”

“You’ll see.” The girl had found a rather fanciful plastic dish and was scooping sherbet into it.

“One’s yellow,” Cassie commented, “and that other one looks like raspberry. I thought papaya would be pink.”

The girl said nothing.

“Has a man been in here? Maybe a man who said he was looking for somebody?”

The girl laid down her scoop and went to the door. A switch beside it darkened the outside lights.

“You’re two minutes fast,” Cassie told her.

“So sue me.” The girl locked the door and pulled down a shade.

Cassie sighed. “I wish we could be friends.”

“I’ve got three friends.” The girl drizzled cloudy syrup on the sherbet. “Rita, Amber, and Christabelle. I don’t like any of them very much, but I like every one of them fifty times more than I like you. Even Christabelle.”

“Puts me in my place. You got a spoon?”

A pink plastic spoon stabbed the raspberry sherbet. “I even like Rita’s little brother better than you.”

There was a knock at the door. The girl looked toward it, but did not move.

“I’ll get it,” Cassie said, and stood up.

“No you don’t!” The girl beat her to the door, pushing her back.