The first time Mom saw me wearing it, I could tell she wanted to say something, but she’d clamped her mouth tight.
I was startled out of my memory as Leigh broke into another song. This one I recognized from The Lion King. She carried a club sandwich to a man working on his laptop. He didn’t pause as Leigh set the plate next to him but flashed her a quick smile.
I glanced at the time on my phone. I had better get going if I wanted to make it home before dark. As I packed up my books, Leigh came to take my dirty dishes. She handed me my bill and I paid her with my allowance.
“What did you think?” Leigh lifted the empty shake glass.
“It was delicious,” I said.
Leigh grinned. “I hope you come back, Jenna. You’re welcome anytime.”
“Thanks.”
I hitched my bag over my shoulder. As I got out of the booth, I ran a finger across the small Hamilton plaque. When I stepped outside, I glanced back into the smudged window. Nobody knew me here. I could be alone. I wouldn’t have to talk about my feelings or run into Elliot. And that booth would be like Dad was with me.
I think I found my new perfect getaway.
The rest of the week, I kept my head down and avoided any interaction with Elliot. I also avoided writing my personal essay. But I didn’t ask Ms. Fontes for a new assignment. Knowing Elliot was working on a sports article made me stubborn. If he could write about sports, then I could write a personal essay, no matter how useless writing one was. I knew I had to get to it, but the entire weekend sped by without me touching it.
After every newspaper club meeting, I went to the diner, making myself at home in the Hamilton booth. I could spread out. Nobody knew me, except for Leigh, who was friendly but didn’t intrude. I got used to her singing when she served customers and realized that was why no music played at the diner. Fortunately, the diner wasn’t that busy, so it wasn’t constant and she only sang a few lines, not the entire song. The daily milkshake specials changed, but my favorite Waitress shake was always available. And I figured out that the sugar-butter-flour song went with it. Maybe I’d download the soundtrack.
By Tuesday, I was mildly panicked about my newspaper club assignment. The last thing I wanted to do was talk about feelings in a personal essay. How did that make for an interesting or important article at all? But I needed to at least bang out a draft. And I needed time to revise before handing it in on Thursday.
“Do not even!” Keiko nearly growled at me when I met her at her locker after school.
“What?” I asked.
“You’re going to bail,” she said, closing her locker with more force than usual.
Keiko didn’t get angry often, and even when she did, she didn’t usually show it. The fact that it was obvious was not a good sign.
I shook my head. “I’m not.”
She relaxed her shoulders and gave me a sheepish smile. “Oh. Sorry.”
I let her apologize even though she’d been right. I had totally come here to bail so I could work on the stupid essay, but I didn’t want Keiko to be mad at me.
We fell into step as we walked to the gates leading off campus. When the wind kicked up, we both zipped our jackets and I tugged my hood over my head.
“What do you want to do on Thursday?” Keiko asked.
We’d ended up hanging out at her house last Thursday, walking her dog, Yuki, and watching TV.
“Whatever you want,” I said.
“We should come up with something special.”
It occurred to me that since seventh grade started, we never really fell into a routine together. Last semester, I hung out with Elliot most of the time. Before then, it had always been me, Keiko, and Audrey doing whatever Audrey wanted to do. Not that I missed Audrey and all her drama, but I did miss having a routine and a place to belong. Nothing felt normal anymore.
“We could watch a movie,” I suggested. Keiko loved retro movies.
“It’s okay,” she said. “I’ve been getting my fix on Friday nights with the guys.”
I’d forgotten that she went to Doug’s to watch movies with them every week.
“We could study,” Keiko said.
I laughed. Keiko was always trying to do things to make other people happy. “You don’t want to study,” I said. “Besides, we barely have any of the same classes.”
I didn’t remember it being so hard to come up with something to do together.
“I have a new chocolate cookbook,” Keiko said.
“Does it have a cupcake recipe?”
“Definitely! There’s one you would like. It’s a banana cupcake with chocolate frosting.”
“Let’s make that one!”
Keiko’s phone buzzed, and she pulled it out, squinting at the screen. She glanced at me and smiled guiltily.
“It’s okay, Keiko,” I said, meaning it. “You can text your boyfriend.”
I expected her to blush or at least smile, but she looked serious.
“Keiko,” I said, pulling off my hood. “I’m teasing.”
She glanced at her phone again and tucked it back into her pocket.
My reporter senses tingled. Something wasn’t right. “What’s going on?”
“Um, I guess you can go do something else, if you want.” Keiko wouldn’t look at me. She sped up slightly, like she was trying to get rid of me.
“I said I wasn’t going to bail. I’m here.” I caught up to her. When did she get so fast? “I’m fine with watching the game. I’m happy about you and Conner.” Did she think I was jealous or something? Or that seeing her with Conner made me all sad about Elliot?
I’d been impatient and short with Keiko since school started back up. I didn’t mean to be like that, especially when I knew she only asked how I was feeling because she cared. But we’d been friends forever and she should know me better.
My chest tightened. Maybe from trying to keep up with Keiko. Maybe from something else. “Keiko, slow down. Don’t be mad at me.”
That stopped her. She swung around to me. “Oh, Jenna! I’m not mad at you!”
“No? Then why are you trying to get rid of me? You’re the one who made a big deal about me not bailing on you!”
Keiko hooked her thumbs under her backpack straps. “I’m not trying to get rid of you. I’m trying to be a good friend. I shouldn’t force you to come to the game.”
“You’re not forcing me.” I narrowed my eyes, and Keiko fidgeted. “What are you not telling me?”
Keiko sighed. “Conner texted.”
“Okay.”
“Elliot is there. Today’s the three-on-three tournament. I guess he’s covering it.”
My bag slipped off my shoulder, and I just barely caught the strap before it hit the ground.
“Conner told me he’s been interviewing the guys and he’s staying for the game.”
“Great.” Elliot dumps me, and yet here he was showing up where I was. I didn’t want to see him or talk to him, and I definitely didn’t want to think about him anymore. I wanted him out of my head.
“Jenna, it’s okay. I mean, you can come if you want, but you don’t have to. I want to hang out with you, but it’s not fair to make you be around”—Keiko paused—“him.”
She was right. I didn’t want to see Elliot. I especially didn’t want to see him working on his assignment when I hadn’t even started mine. I didn’t want his to be better than mine. I needed to get started on it.
“Thanks,” I said. “I think I’ll actually go work on my newspaper club assignment.”
I walked to Leigh’s Stage Diner, my thoughts swirling. Why couldn’t Elliot stay clear of me? He’d acted like he cared about me when obviously he hadn’t. If only he hadn’t emailed me at the end of summer about the honors language arts reading list. If only I hadn’t spent weeks alone at my dad’s in Texas while he was at work, bored out of my mind while Keiko and Audrey were doing all the usual summer things without me.
Elliot had come along at the right moment, and I’d been w
eak. Our emails had turned into texts and even the occasional phone call. We’d talked about books and writing and newspapers. He was cute and smart, and I thought he liked me. But I’d been wrong. I hated being wrong.
I walked faster, clenching my fists. I thought about how Dad had left me and Mom. Opening yourself up to someone only led to pain. I’d never make myself that vulnerable again.
By the time I reached the diner, I was breathing hard, steam puffing from my lips into the cold air. I pushed the door open with a little too much force, making the bell jangle.
Leigh was busy ringing up a customer. I made a beeline to my table and then stopped short.
Someone was sitting in my booth.
I stormed up to the table, where a boy close to my age sat hunched over a notebook.
“You’re in my booth,” I growled.
The guy looked at me, surprise on his face. Then he looked pointedly at the tabletop. “I don’t see a reserved sign.” His voice was flat, a little arrogant.
That’s when I recognized him. He’d been in my health class for a short time at the beginning of sixth grade. We’d been paired as study partners. He’d hardly cracked the textbook during in-class assignments. I’d had to badger him to do the work. He’d been snarky, calling me a teacher’s pet. Thankfully, he transferred out two weeks later.
I’d kept my opinion of him to myself back then, but now, as I took in his black-rimmed hipster glasses and dark, carefully mussed hair that was obviously styled that way, he still looked every bit the slacker I’d pegged him to be.
“Rin Watanabe,” I said. The tips of my ears heated. I totally hadn’t meant to say his name out loud.
He smirked. “Jenna Sakai.”
He remembered my name? I’d seen him around campus during passing periods over the last year, but we hadn’t talked since he left honors health class. It had probably been too hard for him. That reminded me of the few times Elliot and I had been assigned to work on an article together. Elliot had a tendency to take over, even though I was perfectly capable of doing my share. I hadn’t done that to Rin. Rin had just outright refused to do the work.
“There are plenty of other booths,” I said.
“There are.” He closed the notebook in front of him. It looked like a sketchbook.
“You can sit anywhere else.”
“So can you.”
Gah! What was his problem? I looked to Leigh for help, but she was taking an order. There was no way I’d tell Rin why this booth mattered to me. Not that it would change his mind anyway.
Fine. I tossed my messenger bag onto the bench and scooted into the booth.
“Oh, sure,” he said. “Come join me.”
“I will. Thanks.” I matched his sarcastic tone. If he didn’t want to share the booth, he could move. I hoped he did!
He pushed his empty shake glass to the edge of the table, but he didn’t leave. I took out my newspaper club notebook and rummaged through my bag for my pen case.
“Inuyasha,” Rin said, almost under his breath.
I grabbed the zippered pen case covered with enamel pins and smacked it next to my notebook. “What?” Was he going to try to make conversation? I would have to end that right away. We may be sharing the booth, but that did not make us friends.
Rin nodded at my notebook covered with stickers. “Inuyasha. You read Rumiko Takahashi manga?”
Oh. Right. The manga I found at the library last year. I’d been impressed that the creator was a woman.
“I only read the first ten books,” I said. There had been way too many in the series to keep up with and still do well in my classes. Something had to go. Manga reading was it. But sometimes I missed it. I’d gotten the Inuyasha sticker to remind me to pick it back up this summer.
It was typical that a guy fixated on the one sticker I had of a guy. Well, a half boy, half demon. The rest of my stickers were of powerful women like RBG, Michelle Obama, and sayings like SMASH THE PATRIARCHY.
“You should check out her horror series Mermaid Saga,” Rin said. “It sounds sweet, but it’s pretty terrifying.”
Enough with the chitchat. “Look, I need to get some work done,” I said, opening my notebook.
He shrugged. “Fine by me. You’re the one who sat in my booth.”
“Your booth? I’ve been here for the last week and haven’t seen you. This is my booth.”
“I had some other things to do last week,” Rin said, “but I’ve been sitting in this booth since September.”
I glared at Rin, and he glared right back.
“I’m glad to see you two know each other,” Leigh said, waltzing up to the booth. “I was wondering what would happen when you both showed up.”
She looked way too amused.
“We’re not friends,” I said.
Leigh raised her eyebrows, and a small wave of shame washed over me. I cleared my throat. “We both go to Pacific Vista Middle School.”
“The usual?” she asked me.
My eyes flit to the board, where Lulu’s Strawberry Dream Pie shake held steady. The other shake of the day was the Sven Special.
Being a reporter, I couldn’t let that go without inquiring. “What’s the other flavor?”
Leigh nodded to Rin’s empty glass. “An homage to Frozen. Vanilla slushy.”
Hmm. Not very adventurous. I wasn’t surprised. Rin probably didn’t like new things or being challenged, which explained why he couldn’t change booths.
“I’ll take the Waitress shake, thanks.”
I dug out my colored pens and lined them up above my notebook. I caught Rin watching and shot him a glare. He shrugged, opened his sketchbook, and picked up his black pen.
This time he caught me looking, which I guess he didn’t like. So he grabbed the textbooks from his fancy backpack and made a wall in front of his sketchbook. Whatever! Like I cared what he was doing! I just had a curious nature, which was important for a reporter.
I picked up a green pen and twirled it as I thought about my assignment. I had skimmed one of those Modern Love essays Isabella recommended. It was about a woman who’d been dumped by her fiancé while visiting New York and then had gotten on the wrong subway on her way to Coney Island. She wrote about how she’d cried on the platform and how taking the wrong train was a metaphor for how lost she felt in life, blah, blah, blah. There was no way I would ever write anything so personal and, really, inconsequential. I needed to write something, though. I thought of Elliot and his three-on-three league article, and as much as I hated to admit it, it was an original angle. I already knew he was an excellent writer. Ms. Fontes would be impressed.
I scowled. I needed to do as well as, if not better, than Elliot.
Leigh’s clear voice sang out, “Sugar, butter, flour,” as she deposited my shake on the table in front of me. When she was done, Rin started clapping. Leigh bowed before returning to the counter.
I raised my eyebrows at him.
He shrugged. “Every performer deserves applause.”
Interesting. It was the first time I’d seen anyone clap for Leigh. I hated to admit it, but Rin was right. Leigh was talented, and she did deserve recognition. I wondered what song she had sung when she’d delivered Rin’s shake. “Let It Go”? That would be impressive.
I took a sip of my shake and glanced at Rin, who was bent over his sketchbook. His pen moved in smooth strokes. What was he drawing? He must have felt me looking because he jerked his head up. I quickly averted my eyes to stare around the diner so he wouldn’t think I was snooping.
The diner! Maybe I could write about it. That was personal. And this diner was unlike any I’d ever been to, that was for sure! I could write about how I found this place, describe it in great detail, talk about Leigh. I could ask her some questions about how she came to own and run this place. Yes! That would totally make an interesting article.
I started scribbling in my notebook. The words came quickly, and before I knew it, I filled two pages. Satisfied I had made a good start
, I leaned back. The seat across from me was empty. But Rin’s things were still there. I was dying to know what he was working on. A good investigative reporter didn’t let opportunity pass.
I craned my neck to try to peer over the wall of books. I half stood and leaned forward, walking my hands across the table. When I touched something wet, my hand slipped, and I fell forward right into the wall of books, knocking half of them to the floor.
Gah! I got out of the booth and dropped to my knees, snatching up the books and hoping to get them back in place before Rin returned.
“Can I help you?” Rin’s voice came from behind me.
I stood up, books clutched against my chest as I tried to come up with an excuse. Unfortunately, I was lousy at fiction. I was more about truth.
“These fell,” I said.
I stacked the books on the table. That’s when I noticed that Rin’s sketchbook was closed. I wouldn’t have been able to see anything after all.
As Rin sat down and set up his wall again, I grabbed my notebook and pen and walked over to the counter, where Leigh was wiping down menus.
“Everything okay, honey?” Leigh asked as I sat on a stool across from her.
“Yes.” I opened my notebook. “I’m writing an article and wanted to know if I could ask you a few questions about your diner.”
She smiled widely. “An article about the diner? That’s fantastic! It would be nice to get a little more traffic.”
Leigh looked so happy, I felt horrible telling her that it wasn’t for an actual paper. I wished I could just drop it, but I was all about the truth. “Actually, it’s an assignment. It’s not going to get printed or anything. Sorry.”
To her credit, her smile didn’t falter. “No need to apologize, Jenna. I’m happy to help you.” She put the menus down and gave me her full attention.
“When did you buy this diner?” I asked, starting with an easy question.
“It was my dad’s. I pretty much grew up here. He got sick with cancer and died seven years ago, and I couldn’t walk away from this place. My husband, Tom, and I took over. No regrets!”
Just Be Cool, Jenna Sakai Page 3