From somewhere in the middle of Rogues Gallery, my shitty superhero NaNo from 2011.
Here we see our saintly protagonist get her first taste of crime.
I took a page from Tank’s book and drove around aimlessly for a bit, waiting to see if we were pursued. I noted with a twinge of dread that the gas tank was flagging—after all the getaway driving of the last couple of days, it was on its last legs. Even Hope’s wonder car couldn’t run forever without stopping to refuel. For that matter, neither could I—my stomach growled plaintively at me, and I tried to remember the last time I’d eaten. Yesterday, right? Before the miserable graduation interview?
B.B. ascertained the problem somehow—maybe Kim’s telepathy had rubbed off on her. Or maybe she just heard the car chime or my stomach growl. “We can stop at that gas station up ahead on the corner.”
“You have any money?” I asked. Which, actually, I probably should have asked even before the thrift store incident.
B.B. gave me a look. “Puh-lease, chica. Don’t give me that straight and narrow bullshit. You wanted to be a Rogue, remember? We just robbed a Goodwill, for Pete’s sake.”