He's Got A Gun

The names used in this blog are fake, this is so that the strange actions of characters mentioned can be kept straight without embarrassing anyone by identifying them. Baking Soda Girl from this point on will be called Jule. 
Now for today's story: He's got a gun 

When I was just starting out in Santa Cruz as a college freshman, my friends and could rarely find "hook-ups" for parties. One night, we somehow knew of two parties going on, and also had access to a car. (We lived in the forest, so cars were often hard to come by) 


Unfortunately, we only found one of the parties and it was overcrowded. So we decided to do what we did every other Saturday night and order a pizza back in the dorms. 


But before we went back, we decided to stop at one of the local 7'11's.

Now I don't know if it is because I am from a small conservative town with white-colored, cookie-cutter houses within gated communities, but the Santa Cruz 7'11 at night felt sketchy to me. 

However, I was with at least ten other people, guys and girls, and ignored my feelings of concern as I followed behind my friend Ella to get a slurpee. 


I waited behind Ella in the slurpee line and wondered why she was not getting her slurpee as only one other guy was in front of her, and there were two slurpee machines. So I asked her. And her response was: 


"He's got a gun." 


"What?!!!!" I looked at her with what I am sure were crazed eyes. 


"He's got a gun!" She said a little harsher, but still in a whisper. 


Well after taking about one forth of a second to decide that this slurpee was not worth my life, I slapped Ella on her arm and told her to, "Come on!" 


I then ran to the middle of the store where my other friends were paying for their chocolate bars and cheese-flavored chips, and spat out the information that I had just been given. 


We ran out of the store, and everyone got in their rightful car. Julie and I, sitting together in the back, pulled on our seatbelts with shaking hands and Chris, our friend driving the car, started the engine. 


That is when we realized that Ella was not in the car with us. 


The other car that contained my friends pulled up next to us, and asked why we were staying in our parking space. We explained that we did not know where Ella was. 


Chris, being the good person that he is, turned off the engine and went back into the store to see what was going on. 


For five solid minutes we waited in fear in the back seat of that car, not knowing what had happened to Chris and why neither him nor Ella were answering their phone. 


And then we saw Ella and Chris walk to the car at a relatively slow pace, considering there was a gun-man in the the store behind them. 


Ella did not get in the car, but stood in front of the window on Julie's side and waited for her to put it down. 


"Gina." 


"Why didn't you leave, there was a guy with a gun!" 


"Gina." 

"Yes?" 


"I said, 'he's not done.'" 


Needless to say I was laughed at that night by my many companions. I was blamed for them being unable to finish their 7'll purchases. But most unfortunately, I was the subject of a story that was retold many times to the other members of our dorm building. 


But what I am wondering is why, if we all believed there was a man with a gun in the store, we did not call the police.