by L A Cotton
“Feel any better?”
“Yeah, thanks,” I choked out. Really, I didn’t know what I felt. He was so hot and cold. A normal girl might have read more into the situation. Might have thought that maybe Evan’s actions meant he was interested. That he liked her.
But I wasn’t normal anymore. I was caught between the old version of myself and this new version. The truth was, I didn’t know who the hell I was. But I knew better than to think Evan’s actions were anything other than a chivalrous attempt to do right by the strange new girl.
We rode in silence. When we finally turned onto my street, I checked my cell for the last time. It was a little after ten thirty. I hadn’t even been gone for two hours. The awkwardness that tended to exist between Evan and I descended. Thick and heavy, it filled the space between us, pressing against me until I couldn’t breathe.
“Thanks again,” I said, unable to look him in the eyes. He didn’t reply, so I opened the door and started to climb out, taking in a lungful of fresh air.
“Becca.” His voice stopped me, suspending me in mid-climb. I glanced over my shoulder, our eyes connecting. “I probably shouldn’t say this, but you look good.”
My jaw dropped open, and my mouth bobbed. No words came out. I had none. So I climbed out of the car and walked up to my house, not sparing Evan or the Impala a second glance.
“Becca, is that you?”
“Yeah, Dad.”
“I’m in the den.” He’d named it that, but really, it was a small second living room that he was gradually turning into his office.
“Hmm”—I glanced down at my outfit—“I’ll be there in a minute.”
Too late. Dad’s head appeared around the door, his eyes widening when he saw me. Clearing his throat, he said, “Hey, sweetheart. Got five minutes for your old man?”
I smiled, grateful that he was keeping his opinions on my new style to himself, unlike Mom, who wore her feelings on her sleeve—and face—for all to see.
“Sure.” He disappeared back into the den, and I followed. A stack of boxes stood tall in the corner, making room for his leather chair and oak desk. I’d spent many nights as a kid, watching him pore over case notes at that desk. And I hated that he’d given it all up for me.
“You’re home early?” Dad sat in his chair while I sat on the leather ottoman.
“Yeah, I wasn’t feeling it.”
“I see you did something different with your jeans. It’s—”
“Different?” We both laughed. Dad made awkward situations easy; cracking a joke or saying something so ridiculous, it was impossible not to smile.
“You know; I knew Credence was going to be different, but I’m not sure I anticipated how much you would change.”
“It’s inevitable, Dad. If I want to fit in, I need to …” My voice trailed off.
What?
Wear new clothes?
Leave my most treasured item of jewelry at home?
Lie to my family? The people I called my friends?
Besides, I’d changed long before we arrived in Credence. Who knew the person I would have become if there had been a way to stay in Montecito?
Dad looked at me with his wise, all-knowing eyes and smiled. “I thought moving would be a quick fix, but I realize now that’s not the case.” He hesitated, a heavy frown set on his face. I opened my mouth, ready to try to reassure him, but he held up his hand. “No, Becca. What we did, what I did, I wish I could take it all away from you and carry with me. But I can’t. Lord only knows, if I could, I would. I really think we can be happy here. It’s only a year, and then you’ll be off to college, living the life you were always destined for, sweetheart. I just don’t want you to lose too much of yourself in the process, okay? Promise me?”
“I promise, Dad.” It rolled off my tongue with conviction because I owed it to him. But I didn’t believe it. I’d only been at Credence High for three weeks, and already, the cracks were showing. A lot could happen in a year.
“Good, that’s all I ask. Now, I hope you didn’t think it presumptuous of me, but I asked Mac about part-time work for students around town, and he lined you up an interview at Shake ‘n’ Pass, a diner downtown, if you’re interested. There’s enough set aside for tuition, but every little bit helps, right?”
I flinched at his words. “Sure thing. Sounds good, Dad.”
It really didn’t—it sounded like my own personal version of hell. But I couldn’t tell him that. Because that would mean admitting just how shitty things were at Credence High. So I grimaced through my internal meltdown as Dad shuffled a few papers on his desk and handed me a Post-it.
“This is the manager. You need to call this week to arrange an interview, okay?”
“Great.”
Worst. Nightmare.
“Do you realize how pathetic you are?” Kendall circled me while I stood rooted to the spot unable to move. “I mean, look at you. You look like the thrift store puked on you.”
Male laughter sounded from behind me, and I turned slowly to meet Evan’s hard stare. Kendall sidled up to him and wrapped her arm around his waist. “Tell her, Evan. Tell her how it’s me you want.” She tilted her face up to his, and Evan leaned down, kissing her hungrily. Acid churned in my stomach, clawing up my throat.
“So sad.”
“Look at her, what a loser.”
“She should just go back to wherever it is she came from.”
Voices assaulted my ears—voices I knew. Scarlett, Lilly, Jay, Vin, even Malachi. They all appeared, closing in around me. Laughing and taunting and pointing. I spun around on the spot trying to find a way out. But there was none.
Loser.
Pathetic.
Stuck-up bitch.
No one.
Their words hit me like bullets, cutting through my skin and leaving gaping bloody holes.
“Ignore them, baby. You’re better than every one of them. Better than I am. You’re everything, Becca. Everything. Don’t listen to them. You. Are. Everything.”
I sat up with a start, bed sheets twisted around my body, my heart pounding violently in my chest. Inhaling deeply, trying to calm my ragged breaths, I leaned over and hit the lamp switch, plunging the room into an amber glow.
It had been almost two months since I’d dreamed of him. And he never appeared in dreams about anything but that night. It was always the same—I relived that night over and over in my sleep.
The fear ...
The screams …
The blood.
But something had changed.
He had shown up in a dream about Credence. What did that mean?
Flopping back onto the pillows, I clutched the sheet around me, tears pricking my eyes. At the beginning of the year, I was just a normal girl living her life. Thinking about which colleges to apply to, picking out what dress to wear to the Spring fling. And then he walked into my life and turned my world on its head.
He showed up one day at my neighbor’s house. Cutting their lawn, cleaning their pool. I'd watched him from my bedroom window as he worked through the sticky Spring Break days. My friends and I would hang out by the pool just in hopes of catching a glimpse of his smooth tanned skin and his muscles that flexed as he worked.
After two days of sly glances, he came over and introduced himself. I offered him some iced water, feeling the heat of his stare as we made small talk. He was different from any of the guys I knew at Montecito Prep. Cheeky, rugged … older, he made me blush in a way guys at school didn’t. Sure, they liked to think they were God's gift to women, but in reality, they were just boys with a lot to learn.
But not him.
He wanted me. Made it obvious every time his eyes raked down my body. The way he swiped his thumb over his bottom lip as he brazenly watched me from the neighbor’s yard.
At first, it was just a bit harmless fun.
A game.
Something to pass the time and make me feel good.
Until it wasn't ...
Until
it became my worst nightmare.
The bell chimed as I entered Shake ‘n’ Pass. Mom and Dad had hovered over me yesterday while I called the manager, a man named Mitch, like overbearing parents. It was weird—they’d never been like that before, but I guess now things were different.
Everything was different.
At least, no one was hanging around the diner. I wasn’t ready for another run-in with Kendall.
“Hello.” I approached the service counter where a balding guy was wiping down the top. “I’m Becca. I called yesterday.”
Throwing the towel over his shoulder, the balding guy smiled, rubbing his hands down his grease-stained apron. “Mitch. You got any experience?”
“Hmm, I worked tables at a café last summer.” He didn’t need to know that I’d actually spent the summer serving finger sandwiches and iced teas to Mom’s friends at Montecito Country Club.
“How many shifts can you work?”
“Saturdays, Sundays, after school. I guess.”
“We’re covered Saturdays, but I’m short-handed Sunday afternoons and Tuesday and Thursday evenings. When can you start?”
“When do you need me?”
He scrubbed a hand over his stubble. “You free now?”
Now? “I guess.”
Mitch started for a door. “You can leave your bag in the office. I have a spare apron, and if you speak to Cindy, she’ll get you a uniform. I pay minimum wage plus tips. Envelopes are in the safe end of every week.”
“Okay.” My voice was small. I hadn’t expected to this. At the country club, the general manager had interrogated me for almost an hour before they offered me the positon. Then there was two week’s training before they let us loose with Montecito’s finest.
After locking my bag in the locker in the corner of Mitch’s office, I followed him back out front. My eyes searched outside for any signs of Kendall, but it was quiet. I just hoped it stayed that way.
“It doesn’t normally get busy until about two, and then all the kids want are shakes and fries.”
I nodded, unsure of what to say. It didn’t seem unreasonable to me given that’s all most kids had the money for.
“You can familiarize yourself with the menu.” He slid a laminated card to me. “It’s pretty self-explanatory. Cindy will be in soon, and she’ll show you the ropes. I gotta get out back and cook to be ready for the rush.” He rolled his eyes, and I got the feeling there wouldn’t be a line anytime soon.
“W- wait,” I said, but he was already disappearing through the swinging door.
“Any problems, just holler,” he called back, and I sagged against the counter, wondering what the hell Dad had gotten me into.
It wasn’t that I was opposed to a job; I knew I needed to start a college fund, but this was not what I imagined. I figured I’d get a little job at one of the nicer boutique shops in town or maybe serving coffee at Java’s, the only coffee shop I’d spotted since arriving in Credence. Somewhere I was unlikely to run into anyone from school. Somewhere I could at least pretend life wasn’t as sucky as it really was.
“So you ring in the price, and it should total it, see?” Cindy moved to the side for me to get a better look. “Well, it should. Been asking Mitch to replace this heap of junk for years now.” She raised her voice enough that it carried over the service hatch. Mitch grumbled something inaudible, and Cindy chuckled.
“Grumpy old man, but he’s harmless. Do you think you can take the next one on your own?”
I nodded. Cindy had spent the last hour walking me through everything from taking orders to processing them and ringing up the check. I liked her a lot. Her warm smile made me feel at ease—something I hadn’t felt a lot of since moving here.
“Okay, here you go.” She nudged me and motioned to the door. It swung open, and a group of kids walked in.
My heart sank.
Kendall’s eyes widened in surprise and a slow smirk spread across her face. She elbowed her friend who looked up and barked out a laugh.
“Do you know them, sugar?” Cindy asked.
“Just some kids from school.”
Her eyes questioned me, but I wasn’t about to reveal just how I knew them. “Let them get settled and head over and get their drink order, okay?”
Cindy left me to it while I waited. I recognized Kendall’s two friends, the ones from The Vault, and the guy I’d seen her with around school. But I’d heard that they weren’t actually together, whatever that meant. There was another girl I didn’t recognize, and a couple of guys who I had classes with.
After a couple of minutes, I picked up the notepad and made my way over to them, my mouth dry and my heart pounding so hard I felt sure they would be able to hear it.
“Hello. Welcome to Shake ‘n’ Pass.” Snickers erupted around the booth, but I ignored them, rolling off my rehearsed lines. “May I take your order?”
Kendall held up her menu and studied it. “We haven’t decided,” she said dismissively, and I glanced around the rest of the booth, hoping someone would give me their order.
They didn’t.
“I’ll give you some time.” I hurried away, trying to catch my breath. Cindy breezed out of the door with her table’s order, shooting me a smile as she made her way over. On her return, Kendall called her over, and I watched in horror as Cindy leaned down to listen. They both glanced over at me, and my whole face exploded with crimson. When Cindy turned back, Kendall narrowed her eyes in challenge.
I couldn’t move. My hands curled around the edge of the counter until I felt the edge biting into my palm. The seconds ticked by painfully slow until Cindy returned, her mouth pulled into a grim smile. The blood had drained from my knuckles, but I managed to force a smile.
“Did something happen with table five?” Her voice was low.
“No, why?”
“She said you were rude. You can’t speak to customers like that, Becca.” Her eyes went wide as if to hammer home her point.
“She said that?” Of course, she did. “I …” What was the point? Cindy’s mind was made up. What was that saying? The customer was always right? “Should I go back and get their order?”
She shook her head. “No, I think it’d be better if I go. You check on table three and don’t mess it up, okay? We rely on tips around here.”
Cindy made her way back to Kendall’s table, her wide smile matching the smug grin on Kendall’s face. The girl was pure evil.
Another table came in, and I kept myself busy taking their order and waiting for Mitch to call for service. I watched the hatch like a hawk, but it was a better alternative to facing Kendall. They'd finished their food, and Cindy had delivered their check. Soon, they would be gone, and I would be able to breathe again. Mitch slid three plates onto the counter, and I loaded them into my hands, paying extra attention to the plate balanced up my arm. Certain I had good enough balance, I made my way over to the table. There was no choice but to pass Kendall's booth since they'd chosen a middle one, but no one paid me any attention as I passed them.
Or so I thought.
I heard the snickers, but it was too late. My foot stumbled over someone's leg, and the plates went crashing to the floor, burgers and fries rolling all over the place.
“Oopsie,” Kendall sang in a sickly-sweet voice as Cindy came rushing over.
“Jesus, Becca.” She got on the floor with me to clear up the smashed dinnerware.
“What's going on out there?” Mitch's gruff voice shouted from out back, and Cindy waved her arm as if he was standing right there. “Nothing I can't handle.”
“Go and apologize to table three, take them a round of drinks on the house, and tell them Mitch will cook them up something fresh.” Cindy's jaw clenched, and I murmured, “Okay.”
Even the low rumble of laughter as I backtracked to the counter didn't perforate the embarrassment I felt. Red-faced, I dealt with table three, throwing in that it was only my first shift. They seemed understanding. I think the free drinks helped. Cin
dy fetched a brush and pan to sweep up the mess. I couldn't believe my eyes as a couple of the guys helped her, making jokes and laughing as if they were all old friends. All while Kendall's eyes followed me around the diner, burning into me, as I tried to keep busy. So I kept wiping tables, straightening menus, and talking to table three. Anything to avoid meeting her icy stare.
Eventually, they left. One of the girls shouted, “See you at school Monday, Becca,” and the rest of them had erupted with laughter.
Cindy eyed me warily, and I sighed. “I messed up. I'm sorry, it won't happen again.”
Her frown deepened, and she smiled sadly. “Don't worry about it, sugar. Everyone left happy, so that's all that matters.” She patted me on the shoulder as she rounded me and whispered, “Mitch doesn't like trouble.”
I gaped after her as she went to take an order. Couldn't she see that trouble was the last thing I wanted? I just wanted to go to school and make friends and hold down a shitty job serving greasy burgers to people. I didn't want any of this.
But I'd learned a long time ago that what you wanted and what you got were often two very different things.
“So how did it go?” Mom pulled out a chair, and I dropped into it with a heavy sigh.
“It was …” Awful. Horrible. Painful. “Fine.”
“Fine? Come on, Becca. Did you enjoy it? Meet any nice people?” Dad placed down a can of soda in front of me and pulled out the other chair. “This is a good thing, sweetheart.”
“I know, Dad.” I popped the top and took a drink, letting the fizz wash away my stale breath. “Mitch seemed okay, and Cindy was nice. I’m working Sundays, Tuesdays, and Thursdays. It’s a start.”
“Damn right it is, kid.”
“Geary!” Mom gasped. “Language, please.”
I laughed. Even now, after everything, she still kept up her prim and proper façade.