Bleed by Laurie Faria Stolarz

so excited and my fingers are all tingly I can barely get them to work right. There are two ice creams left. Just like I thought. Six to a box and four already eaten.
    But Mom would definitely notice if I took one.
    Or … maybe she might think that it was Ginger who ate it. Or Nina. Nina sometimes uses Ginger’s key. Maybe Nina got another one for Douglas. Douglas is a growing boy, as Mom sometimes says. Or maybe Ginger could have given the key to Cheryl to get another. Even Dad likes to have an ice cream once in a while in the summer.
    I take one out, look down at it, feel the soft cone beneath my fingers. I’ll just say I don’t know who ate it.
    I tear off the paper that covers the ice cream part and mash my lips against the nutty topping. The shell-like fudge is cold against my teeth, but I’m able to bite a big piece of it off, so big that it fills my mouth wide and sticks out a little. I press the chocolate into my tongue with the roof of my mouth, breaking it up, slurping the piece before it changes into syrup, and I swallow it up.
    I take another bite. The vanilla ice cream swirls inside my mouth. I play with it at the tip of my tongue, press my lips together, feel it against the roof. So cold. I swallow it down fast. The bloodthirsty ghouls will probably be home soon.
    The cone part is just the way I like it. Soft and chewy. I have to pull at it with my teeth, but then I get a little piece of the paper wrapping in my mouth. I try to chew it free, but I can’t quite do it unless I want to spit everything out. I swallow it all down instead, rip the rest of the paper off, and then bite across the whole cone so that the ice cream leaks out the sides and I have to lick it up quick. Then I put my mouth over the entire top and suck. And one giant ice-cream ball shoots into my mouth and lands at the back of my tongue. So good. Better than anything.
    I poke the cone’s point into my mouth and chew down on it, eyeing the last Nutty Buddy in the box. I grab it, tear the paper from the top, and start all over again.
    When the Nutty Buddies are gone, I take a breath and see that I’m still standing in front of the open freezer, the cold air blowing in my face. All of a sudden, I don’t feel so good. Not sick, but there’s a weird tightness in my chest when I breathe. I can’t think and I don’t know what to do. I don’t know if I should lock the fridge back up and go upstairs. If I should risk all my Weight Buster points and have some ice-cream sandwiches. Or just take a peek in the snack cabinet.
    I decide on the cabinet since I don’t really want any more ice cream anyway. I can bring the snack treasures I find up to my room and hide them before everyone comes home.
    I move toward it, hold the key out, but my fingers are shaking. They’re hovering around the lock the way the night moths do at the spotlight in front of our house. Maybe I shouldn’t do it. Maybe I should just go back upstairs. I feel my face scrunch up, my chest get tighter. Mom and her vampire clan will probably be home any minute now. There probably isn’t time.
    But I have to. Today I have the key. Tomorrow Ginger will hide it in the fortress, someplace good. Someplace I won’t be able to find it. She was in a rush today, to go to the beach; tomorrow she won’t be.
    It takes my jittery fingers a couple times to get the key into the lock. But then they do, and I turn the key, and the lock comes undone, and for some reason my chest relaxes and I’m able to breathe again.
    Just like the fridge, the cabinet doors swing open from the middle. I grab the handles and pull wide, arms outspread like a mighty, immortal bird. The shelves are full of treasures. Anything I want. Twinkies, barbecue chips, Fudge Stripes. An eight-pack of snack-size Dorito bags, a fresh can of Sour Cream & Onion Pringles, peanut butter—filled pretzels.
    I seize the Twinkie box and hold it under an arm, giggle at the thought of seize , one of my English vocab words. Luckily