Chapter Twenty-Five. Just Like Your Mother

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TWENTY-FOUR
just like your mother













       ONCE, THEY HAD tried to make the diner a hangout spot. Some kids had the movie theater, others had the field by the train tracks, the community pool. What did they (Lucy, Danny, and Steve) want? The diner— Tom's Diner, or just Tom's. It was comfortable, with rows of booths, and aesthetically pleasing, with vintage photos and random autographed t-shirts. She had been the one to initiate it, with a craving for french fries— even in present day, Lucy wished she hadn't mentioned anything.

Her brother didn't mean any harm, not purposefully. While Steve chowed on a burger, and Lucy picked at her fries, Daniel sipped at a Coca-Cola. It was the nicest bottle of Coke he had ever seen— it was fancy, and in glass. Long story short, he slipped a mento into the drink, it exploded, and the diner owners were rightfully pissed. His two friend (one being his twin sister) sprinted from the restaurant, leaving him, the culprit, to face the consequences.

Point is— Daniel's face was framed in the Tom's Diner, and none of the three returned.

A milkshake was tempting, though, and they caved into the idea of it. Car keys looped around his fingers, Steve peeled his eyes away from the framed photo of Danny, ignoring the large, bolded letters, which read, 'BANNED'. Shifting his attention forward, he squinted at the menu. "Two vanilla milkshakes?"

She side-eyed him, lips pursed. "What kind of freak gets a vanilla milkshake?"

Taken aback by her harshness, Steve placed a hand on his chest. "Me..." he spoke. "I get vanilla milkshakes."

    "Figures," she said, eyes wide. Steve pulled the wallet out of his back-pocket, and stepped up to order. In a polite tone, he asked a vanilla milkshake, one straw. Stepping aside, he allowed Lucy to order— she asked for chocolate.

Then, a man stepped from the kitchen— Tom, maybe?— and glanced at the teens. He sent them a smile, to which they returned, and he turned on his heels. Now facing the photo on the wall, the one of Daniel, the man squinted his eyes. Slowly, painfully slow, he turned to look at Lucy, and then back at the framed photo. She blinked, smile falling, watching as the man glanced between her and the picture one more time. Finally, there were two milkshakes in the hands of Steve.

She tugged on his windbreaker. "Come on!" the girl urged, in a whisper-shout. "That man got suspicious! He saw that I looked like the picture of his least favorite costumer."

Brow furrowed, Steve took a sip of the milkshake. "Huh?"

"Danny!" he flicked his forehead, gesturing to the 'BANNED' picture. "I'm not staying in here, Tom'll make a scene."

His eyes went wide. "That's Tom?" Steve sputtered, his mouth full.

    She screwed her eyes shut in frustration. "I don't know!" Lucy whispered, between her teeth. Dragging him by the collar of his jacket, they exited the diner, and stepped out into the cool November air.

    A moment passed, and Steve sat on the curb. Vanilla milkshake in hand, he took another sip. "So, we're sitting outside, in the cold," he began. "Because, you're afraid of Tom?"

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