So right now she considers taking her sandal straps off because they are pinching her feet so badly and imagines standing there barefoot in the dirty parking lot while the gas gurgles into her car. But all of a sudden these teenage girls walk up to her （Damon always says, What the hell, do they have radar for you?）。
“Would you buy us a pack of cigarettes?” the taller girl, maybe fifteen at the most, asks, stringy brown hair and freckles around her brown eyes that pull at Suzette.
“What?” Suzette says. She can’t digest what the girl is asking. Suzette is lost in her own thoughts, trying to mentally hold Owen in her arms, trying to argue a good case for Andy, trying to drive Nicole a thousand miles away so that guy can’t find her.
Both girls’ faces are sunburned, and the friend with the light blond hair wears a pink tank top. The brunette girl puts her hands in her jean shorts pockets and tilts her leg to the side. She looks at her flip-flop. “We were just, uh, wondering if you could buy us some cigarettes.”
“？’Cause we’re not old enough,” her friend says.
Suzette smiles politely. She has learned to never talk down to teenagers, never make what they say seem foolish. “Thanks for trusting me,” she finally says after searching for the words. She hugs her purse around her shoulder. She glances at the friend, tiny in her tank top. Then at the freckled girl. Suzette breathes. A rhythm to her breathing like she will hypnotize them. Breathes like she’s breathing out smoke. “But I can’t do that, you know?”
She wants to tell them not to get started, that that’s what the tobacco fat cats want. She wants to tell them she smoked, too, that she’s certainly not judging them, but but but. She wants to give them a number they can call if things are bad at home, her own number even. Her feet hurt, and the sun is still so damn hot even though she’s under the metal canopy at the gas pump. “What are your names?” she asks.
“Felicia,” says the blonde right away. Her eyes are a permanent squint. Her hair is frizzy. She is one of those girls who gets lost in a classroom. Who the teacher forgets has been out with the hall pass for fifteen minutes.
“And you?” Suzette nods toward the brunette.
The girl bites her finger. Felicia nudges her. “I heard her,” she snaps. She twists her fingers together. “Nancy,” she says, looking away.
Suzette shakes her head. The gas nozzle thumps that it’s full. Other cars back out of their spaces. “That didn’t sound natural.”
“It wasn’t.” The girl twists her lip in a pout.
“Then?”
“Natalie.” She turns back to Suzette. Suzette notices now she’s holding a wrinkled ten-dollar bill for the cigarettes. She thinks of all the dangerous people who could get ahold of two girls like this. She wonders if she should take them to Bobbie at the shelter, or have Carol at Children and Youth look up their situations. But she could be jumping to conclusions. They could be bored kids from Bedford Estates, they could be sunburned from swimming at Oak Gate Country Club.
But their nails are bitten. Their feet look tired. They just have that worn-out look of kids in trouble. “Are you two okay?”
Natalie snorts. “Come on.”
Suzette screws her gas cap back on and returns the nozzle to its cradle. In seconds, she hears her receipt printing. Her sweat and her feet and the bad world irritate her. “I asked a question, Natalie.” Her voice is firm. Sometimes tough love works.
“We’re okay,” Felicia says quietly.
“Fuck you,” Natalie says. She starts to walk away and turns around and looks Suzette up and down. “Bitch.”
“Nat.” Felicia glances back and forth between them as though she’s a little sister caught in the middle.
Suzette shakes her head. She has been called worse. She remembers being twenty-five, a couple of years after Finland. She remembers the first time she was spit at, the first time someone called her a word her mother said was the worst word you could call a woman. But this hurts. It hurts because she’s hot and tired and she thinks Felicia will go along with whatever Natalie wants to do and get herself in trouble. She should count to ten, she should disengage, she is trained to do better. “You think you have it all figured out.”
Natalie rushes toward her, and Suzette winces. “Yeah, I do.” She is inches from Suzette’s face.
“Natalie,” Felicia says. She goes to take Natalie’s arm, but Natalie swats her hand away.
Suzette locks eyes with her. She feels like she is in high school again when she stood up to a senior girl whom everyone else was afraid of. “Stare her down,” her sister Lisa had told her. “Look like you’re a mountain she can’t climb over.” This is going nowhere. “Back off,” she says right into Natalie’s face.