Page 31 of Mending Fences
At the slightest touch, the scooter jerked toward the girl, who jumped away. “Hey, you ruined my picture.”
“Oh, pardon me.” Mandy used her teacher’s voice. “I was just trying to check out.” She smiled sweetly and turned her attention to the cashier, ignoring the curses coming from the teen.
Mandy returned the cart to its place near the exit and hobbled toward her car, bag banged against the crutches. The now-angry girl moved to block her. “I still need a photo.”
Mandy ducked her head and tried to move around her. Daniel’s advice about the paparazzi being a zit came to mind. She pictured the teen with a large one in the center of her forehead and nearly laughed out loud.
Once again, the girl moved to block her.
Only two more car lengths to her little Golf. Mandy turned between two cars, forcing the girl to run around them, then zigzagged through the cars to reach hers before the girl had a chance to get a picture.
Pulling out of the lot, Mandy hoped the girl had a warehouse-sized supply of face cream for all the zits.
