Ice Cream Truck

Jake and I perked our heads up. Almost reverently, we cocked our heads as the ragtime tune faded away. "Jake." I whispered, "Do you have 85 cents?" Suddenly, the two of us were up on our feet, zooming to our bedrooms. I reached my bedroom frantic, searching underneath my bed and behind various teddy bears and baby dolls in search of the plastic, yellow treasure chest where I kept my money. I let out a frenzied war cry, and plunged into the unknown depths below my bed. It was dark and stuffy, and everything I touched was layered in thick gritty dust. (Clearly, cleanliness wasn't my strong suit!) Then, I heard the soft tinkling of quarters when I kicked my feet. I awkwardly scurried to where I assumed the sound came from. AHH!!! Success. I grabbed the treasure chest and then bolted downstairs, tufts of hair falling out of asymetrical pony tails, and still covered in dust, but triumphant nonetheless. "Jake! Did you find any money?" Jake held out his cupped hand, and displayed an assortment of pennies and nickles. He, too, looked pretty ragged. I assumed he'd been diving under couches and the like. Why hadn't I thought of that? "Good job, let's see if he's still here." We hurried outside, and saw the ice cream truck parked three houses up from us. We were lucky we'd caught him. Jake and I ran towards the truck, both yelling that we were coming. We got in line, and anxiously waited for our turn to buy something. Older neighbors shared their expertise, saying that the popsicles that had gumballs in them were gross. The gumballs were hard, and were too tough on your jaw. Jake and I took silent notes. As our turn approached, I eagerly scavenged through my yellow treasure chest and selected a few quarters. I told the ice cream man, who was actually only a teen boy with tattoos and nose rings, that I would like a "Flintstones popsicle, and that my little brother would like one of the football-shaped ice creams. " He lowered his gaze towards me, and I squealed, "We're just so excited." He gave us what I think was supposed to be a smile, and then said, "Um. 'kay. Well, here you go." I grapped mine quickly, and thanked the grouchy, underpaid teen. I turned to walk away when I heard a thump. I pivoted on my toes to see Jake's treat melting on the curb, and the Ice Cream Truck speeding away.