"What's the matter? Afraid to try getting more? Well, if you're too scared then I'll do it."
"I'm not scared. Just smart. We can't draw attention to ourselves right now. We have to keep a low profile."
"Why? Is your dad going to find us?"
"No, I've taken care of him. He won't be able to bother us again." Joseph finished off his beer and then reached into a pocket for a cigarette. She recognized the brand and lighter as belonging to his father. He shook two cigarettes out of the pack and then lit both. They coughed in unison, puffs of smoke sputtering from their mouths. They tried again with a similar result. "I don't know how Dad can stand these."
"You probably have to get used to them," Samantha said.
"I guess." Joseph pointed with his cigarette towards the Seabrooke Community Bank across the street. "That's the key to our future."
"Are you going to ask them for a loan?"
"In a way, but without the paperwork," he said. "We're going to rob the bank and with the money I'll be able to set up shop somewhere to work on mass-producing my formulas."
"Rob the bank? You mean we're going to steal money?"
"That's the idea. How else do you think we can get the money? Flip burgers at McDonald's like everyone else?"
"No, but isn't there another way?"
"Not unless a big sack of money falls from the sky into our laps. You don't think I know what I'm doing? Haven't I taken care of you so far?"
"Yes, but this is different. This is illegal. If anyone found out-"
"They aren't. I'll take care of everything. You don't have to worry that pretty head of yours at all."
"I don't know-"
"Samantha, trust me. Everything is going to turn out fine. We'll get the money and then we'll cross the border into Canada for a while until the heat dies down. No one will be able to find us and then, when I've made enough of the formulas, we'll make millions. We'll never have to work again."
"This doesn't seem right," she said. Something about the idea sparked a nauseous churning of her stomach, or maybe it was the beer and cigarettes. "I don't feel good."
"I have an idea about how to make you feel better," he said, winking at her. He drove away from the bank and towards the high school. She didn't want to go back in there, even if she was prettier than all those other girls.
"How's school going to make me feel better?"
"We're not going into the school. There aren't classes today anyway. There's a place the other kids go when they're feeling too sick for class." He took her hand in one of his and then used the other to carry the beer. She followed him along the side of the building and then across a snow-covered field to the rows of benches she remembered seeing earlier.