When your mother asks you to pick up eggs at the grocery, you don't prepare yourself for trouble, and neither did I. 

Because of the summer heat, I put my hair up in a high pony, took an extra dollar for ice cream, and then hopped on my bike.

I pedaled slowly at first. Old Mr. Lancey was watering his yard, and waved to me as I passed, one hand resting on the brim of his hat. The hand he waved was the one holding the hose, and acres of water jetted out, cascading downwards, the gleam of a rainbow dancing in the air for a moment. I waved back.

“Glad to see you’re feeling better!” I called out. Mr. Lancey had thrown his back out a while back.

Then I whisked by him and was distracted by other things.

The sun beat down, and the hum of the season played out through the worn streets. The steady beat of my bike's tires, the echo of children laughing in the distance, free from their air conditioned classrooms. 

All our neighbors' yards were in full bloom, the birds chirped their merriment.

All too soon I reached the little mart. Eddy, the owner, was an overweight old codger who hated the heat, and was in a forever ongoing Cold War against the neighborhood teenagers.

I nodded to him when I entered, the shop’s door chiming behind me. He grunted a reply, not bothering to look up from his paper. Eddy had a sixth sense for who was entering his shop, and if I were an adult, he would’ve looked up and welcomed me proper.

I took a dozen eggs to the counter, a vanilla ice, and put the dollars into his waiting hand. He didn’t look up from the paper, not once, and somehow opened the register and handed me perfect change.

“Thanks.”

Eddy grunted again and didn’t bother to look up. I shrugged and turned to go. Could be worse. Towards the kids Eddy really didn’t like, I’d seen him act downright terrifying. And the scary part of it was he looked totally innocent to any adult onlookers.

I walked outside, set down the carton of eggs, and peeled the wrapper off my vanilla ice. In this weather, it was already sweating condensation. I bit a chunk out of it, and winced--its coldness made my tongue burn. I closed my eyes, trying to swallow it as fast as possible.

That was when someone came rushing out of the store, barreling into me. My vanilla ice went splat against the concrete.

“Hey!” I reached for it, but there was no salvaging such a disaster. Vanilla delicious-ness was already oozing down the sidewalk.  

I turned to complain, but stopped short. It was the elderly shopkeeper, Eddy. He had his hands twisted around the beefy man’s collar, who I hadn’t noticed, intent on my ice as I was. Eddy was shaking the fellow so, my teeth ached. He punctuated each shake with a “You--you--you!”

Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

The beefy man was turning purple. He swung a fist at Eddy, connecting full on. I jumped back from the fight, senses slowly returning to me, and I knew I had to make a decision.

Bystander or hero?

I grabbed the eggs and flung them.

The carton opened as it flew towards them, a mass of egg-missiles raining down, splattering on the two. Eddy and the beefy man yelled out, and so did I.

“Hey, did you just--?!” Veins throbbing in his forehead, the beefy reached for me in a wild swing of movement and Eddy had the chance to take him down.

The beefy man struggled, but now Eddy had a clear advantage, and he wasn’t going to let up. I hollered for the cops and it wasn’t long until they arrived at the scene.

The police officers, a red cheeked muscular woman and a wiry man who called himself Bernie separated the two and handcuffed the beefy man.

“You did well,” they told us. Eddy had apparently recognized the man from a newspaper clipping. The beefy man was a wanted criminal with a long rap sheet.

They carted him off, letting Eddy know they’d be in touch. We stood there, watching as the police car drove off.

“You did good, kid.” Eddy said, sounding worn. He motioned me to follow him.

We went back into the store, and Eddy handed me a fresh carton of eggs and a vanilla ice.

“I don’t have enough on me to pay for this,” I said, feeling awkward.

“Don’t worry about it. Now, get going. I need to go wash up.” I winced. He was covered in egg innards because of me, after all.

I thanked him and waved as I left. Eddy turned the OPEN sign to CLOSED, and I hopped onto my bike, vanilla ice dripping down my fingers.

The next time I came to the store, a small clipping was posted on the glass, the headline

TEEN AND GEEZER DUO CATCH DANGEROUS CRIMINAL

When I walked into the store, I got a proper welcome, too.

“Good afternoon,” Eddy said from his seat at the register.

I nodded. Though there was a warmer atmosphere now, I still felt bad for those eggs landing on him. I grabbed some flour, and the cocoa my mom loved using, and brought it to the counter. Eddy had gotten up from his seat while I'd been shoppping.

"I'll be there in a moment," he said. By the way he moved I could see that the fight had done a number on his old joints. He sat down in the chair by the register with a “Oooff.” and then pushed something towards me. 

I handed him the money and took a closer look. It was a vanilla ice.

I could understand his replacing our groceries last time, but this was downright exorbitant, for him. 

“My treat,” he said, “My wife wants you to know how much she appreciates you lending a hand.”

“Oh. Thank you.”

Eddy smiled, the first genuine one I'd ever seen.

“Tell your mother I say hello,” he counted out my change without looking.

“Of course,” I said, and Eddy handed me the change.

“And show her that article, ey?”

“Yes,” I was at the door now.

“We did good, kid. We did good.” 

Eddy gave a little wave, and I left the store.

The vanilla ice was delicious.