by Sky Chase
My dad had always been pretty strict with me about my education. Anything less than an A is not okay. I hated when he said that—like he had any right to give criticism or judgment. He cheated and lied; where was his integrity?
I knew he wanted me to take over the company, but business had never been my interest. Now that I was older, I no longer found myself wanting to be just like my father—I hadn’t for a while. I didn’t need his shoes; I had my own.
Cara walked into the classroom and this broke me out of my thoughts, and right then I remembered how much she hated history. It didn’t matter where in the world or the time period; it was all pointless because to her they were dead people. Maybe she saw me the same way. I made sure not to look at her while she took a seat. I focused on my notes and bit my tongue as she took the seat right behind me.
“Hey.” Her voice stiffened every bone in my back.
“Are you ever going to talk to me again?” she continued. It wasn’t until she poked me in the back with her pen that I turned around.
I didn’t say anything. I stared at her, at that face I’d seen so many times but that was now just too unfamiliar. Her crystal-blue eyes were so clear I could see right through her. They said your eyes were the gateway to your soul, and Cara’s were so translucent, I had her figured out within ten minutes of knowing her. Pretty face, she’d do anything to fit in. She strove for perfection, and my parents loved her for it. Heck, even I’d loved her for it.
“Is anyone alive up there?” she said.
What a wonderful choice of words.
She smiled like she was next up on stage, her manicured finger pointing to my head. I didn’t know why she was acting like nothing happened—had she forgotten what she did to me? Because I hadn’t. I turned back around and finished copying the notes on the board.
“You’ve changed. I don’t even know who you are anymore,” she whispered. And I feared I’d break my pencil from gripping it so tightly. There were only fifteen minutes left of class, so I decided I’d just walk around the school until next period; I couldn’t be in here any longer. I quickly raised my hand. Mr. Evans gave me the evil eye through the space between the bridge of his nose and his glasses. I always wanted to pause his lessons and push his glasses up because they annoyed the crap out of me, but I ignored all of that today.
“Yes, Mr. Finley?”
Everyone turned to look at me.
“Can I use the restroom?”
“I don’t know, can you?” he shot back.
My face instantly went slack. Man, I’d forgotten how lame teachers were. Without thinking, I got up from my desk and kneeled on the floor and began to speak in an old-time British accent. “Forgive me. If it pleases you, sir, may I obtain your gracious permission to proceed to the toilet facilities of this establishment, so that I may, with haste, urinate, and thus relieve the unbearable pressure building in my bladder, lest I develop an infection, or, heaven forbid, soil my garments?”
Laughter rose from the class, and Mr. Evans looked like he was fighting a smile. “Oh, what joy for you to be back. Come get the pass, you smartass.”
Everyone, including me, was surprised to hear him swear. He was one of the strictest, most boring teachers known to man, and he seemed to be joking around.
I grabbed the pass sheepishly. I would have never done that before my attempt. I always showed respect to adults; I always had respect for anyone. I looked at class clowns and would feel guilty if I laughed at their jokes. But now I was open to not giving too much thought to things. My brain seriously needed the space.
Entering the hall, I let my feet take me wherever. I walked into the bathroom to find Mikey sitting on the trash can under the window smoking what looked to be a blunt.
Idiot.
“Dude, seriously?” I asked, amused.
“Aye. You wanna want a hit?” He smirked.
“Maybe after school?”
“Still a goody-two-shit, I see. What are you even doing here, anyway? By the amount of booze you bought from me, I figured you’d be passed out somewhere for another month or so.”
“Goody-two-shoes. The phrase is goody-two-shoes, and I could be asking you the same thing. Aren’t you supposed to be in prison or something?”
I eyed him and he eyed me, until we both started laughing.
“I’m too pretty for prison,” he chuckled, taking another hit.
“Really, man, what are you doing here?” I asked.
He stared at the blunt before dropping and then stepping on it.
“I was hoping to bump into Nami.” He looked up at me and grinned.
“Nami? Who hopes to bump into her?” I countered.
“Are you slow? I just said I did,” he replied while picking up the smashed blunt and walking toward one of the urinals.
“I know what you said. I just don’t understand why. She’s a no-filter firecracker who knows everything about everyone. She is the kind of girl who could get you kicked out of school, so why do you want to be around her? She could get you expelled in three-two-one.” I snapped my fingers as I counted.
“Word on the street is that she so wants this . . .” He held his arms out and glanced up and down his own body, and then flushed the joint down the drain.
He was definitely nuts. Nami Lynn would never go with a guy like him. “Doubt it, she’s too smart to want you.”
“We’ll see,” he laughed.
Just then I heard the bell ring, and I tightened my hand on my backpack. “See you later.”
“The phrase is See you later, alligator.”
I walked into the hall shaking my head. Never in a million years would I have thought that Mikey Cosweld was pretty cool—an idiot, but still, pretty cool. The rest of my classes weren’t as boring as I expected. I had eyes on me, but I didn’t care. I was nice to everyone who approached me throughout my classes. I knew my appearance could be intimidating but I didn’t want to be known for being a jerk. My old teammates didn’t say anything to me, which was probably a good idea.
I went to English class and was surprised to see Beverly sitting in the far-right corner. I hadn’t known that we had any classes together. I smiled and approached her desk, where she had her head stuck in her bag, digging for something.
“You’re in my seat.” I made my voice as deep as possible, and she jerked her head back so quickly that she hit her head on the wall.
“Ow.” She clutched the back of head and dropped what looked to be a pencil from her hand while I chuckled.
“Geez, no need to be bouncing off of walls. We are in a respectable learning establishment, not a bouncy house.” I handed her pencil back to her.
“You aren’t funny.” She tried not to smile but failed.
“Is this seat taken?” I asked, pointing to the desk next to hers.
“Yes,” she responded.
“Aw, sucks for them.” I maneuvered around her desk and sat right next to her.
“Everest, no, you can’t just take someone’s seat.” Even when she scolded me it sounded sweet.
“I’m sure they will understand.”
“I’d slap you, but shit stains.” Nami appeared, her expression annoyed. She shoved my desk then purposely stepped hard on my shoe. She scurried away and sat a few places over, burning me with her glare.
“Hey, Mikey C.’s looking for you,” I said teasingly. “You know, I’ve got his number if you need it . . .”
“Oh. My. God. Finley,” Nami shushed me. “Shut your mouth!”
“I’m guessing this is Nami’s seat.” I looked at Beverly, who was trying not to laugh.
Class started and I was fascinated by how Beverly was so inclined to pay attention to the lesson. She wrote quickly, with superneat handwriting. It was like she forgot I was there. Her eyebrows furrowed together as our teacher taught, her teeth sometimes absentmindedly chew
ing on the back of her pencil. She was in a learning trance, and it was kind of funny. I poked her side and she jumped—her eyes grew big and a small sound of surprise escaped her lips. When she turned to look at me, I quickly turned my head to the board, as if I was paying attention the whole time. When she turned to look back at the board, I bit my lip to keep from laughing. I felt like an elementary kid who got a kick out of distracting their friend from paying attention.
After a few minutes, I poked her side again. She jerked and made an even louder yelp, causing a few heads to turn. She pointed at the ceiling and whispered, “Sorry, there’s a bee.”
The class looked up at the ceiling and tried to figure out where the imaginary bee was, and by this time, it was taking everything in me not to let this laugh out. When the class faced the board again, Beverly turned to me with annoyed amusement.
“Please stop,” she whispered.
I shrugged and pretended to look confused. “Stop what, exactly?”
“Ev—”
“Ms. Smith, Beverly is being very disruptive and it’s very hard for me to keep up,” Cara said, and I hadn’t even noticed her before now. We used to sit together every period we had; now I’d forgotten completely she was even in this class.
“Yeah, she and Everest haven’t stopped talking this whole time,” Martha chimed in, and before I could say anything, Nami cut in.
“Are you sure that’s the reason you can’t keep up?” Nami deadpanned, causing a few snickers to arise from the class.
“Drink bleach . . .” Martha seethed.
“Girls, girls.” Our elderly teacher tried to contain the class.
Nami stood up from her desk and Tiffany held her back. “If I wanted to kill myself I’d climb your ego and jump in a pool the size of your IQ. You do realize that makeup isn’t going to fix your stupidity, right?”
“Girls!” the teacher yelled, cutting off the argument.
“Beverly and Everest, save all conversations after class.” Then she turned to the board and resumed talking about Macbeth.
Class soon ended and I had a bone to pick. Beverly started to walk out of class before realizing I wasn’t following her. “You coming to the library?”
I walked over to her and grabbed her books. “Yeah, I’ll meet you there. I have to ask Ms. Smith a question. I’m stocked on homework.”
“I’m glad you’re back even though you got us in trouble.” She nudged me playfully. “I really hope you stay.”
I went back into the classroom, spotting Cara. Storming over, I grabbed her hand and dragged her out of the class and into an empty classroom. “Leave Nami and Bev alone.”
I was about to walk out again when she grabbed my arm, which I immediately yanked back.
“On one condition . . .”
I walked out of the room before I even heard her proposition; this wasn’t up for debate.
“You hungry?” I asked Beverly, who was staring out of the window of my car. School had let out, and no matter how much I ate at lunch, I was always hungry afterward. I could honestly say I was drained at the end of the day.
“We had lunch, like, two hours ago.”
“So? That’s a long time for me.”
“How are you not fat by now?” she laughed, poking my stomach.
I laughed. “I don’t know.”
“You and me both.” She turned back toward the window.
I said, “I’m just going to go to 21 Daisies. I could go for a muffin.”
She turned to look at me with a chuckle. “Do we have to? My shift doesn’t start for another hour. We can hang at the park for a little before I have to go in. I don’t think anyone would mind if I was a little late. I heard there are some new performers, so they’ll be busy with that.”
“That sounds nice and all, but then I’ll be late for my set.”
She froze and slowly turned to me. “Your what?”
I could see the excitement bubbling up inside of her.
“What do you mean ‘what’?” I acted playfully confused.
“Repeat what you said.” Her brown eyes sparkled.
“I’m just going to go to 21 Daisies. I could go for a muffin.”
“No, Ev, repeat what you just said.” She hit my arm.
“Okay, okay, so violent. I said I’ll be late for my gig—”
I couldn’t even finish before she squealed. “Tell me this isn’t a joke.”
“This isn’t a joke.” I smiled at her.
21
Beverly
Later that afternoon, while I was laying out baked goods in the showcase, Poppy asked, “How come you’ve never performed for open mic night?”
I’d always thought about doing it, but singing wasn’t my thing. I’d rather doodle the faces of strangers or build a world on a canvas. I was more of a behind-the-curtain kind of girl—so it was a little funny that my best friend was a center-stage kind of guy. Everest could pretend that he didn’t like all the attention that he got but everyone knew that he was a natural-born star.
“I like to watch,” I replied simply, popping back on my stool once I’d placed the spider cookie inside. We’d been doing up the place with Halloween decorations. All the while, I tried not to let the crunchy leaves stress me about school, about how much time had passed. I’d applied to seven colleges. I worked three jobs over the summer just to pay for the application fees, and yet I hadn’t heard back from a single one.
As I sat comfortably behind the register, the bell sounded, and I smiled. Everest had dropped me off earlier, and I’d been glancing every so often at the clock, watching the hours tick by until he appeared.
Facing the door, I was confused by the sight of Nash and a few other recognizable faces from the football team. Since I’d been working here, never once had I seen them here. I wouldn’t imagine that it would be their kind of scene.
Lily greeted the boys and sat them at a table in the hidden corner. I stood still, unsure of how I should react. I walked farther down the counter to get a better look at the table and met Nash’s smug expression, him lying back in the chair like he owned the place. He had a gold plastic crown on his head. I assumed it signified his homecoming king nomination. He was probably going to win this year. I couldn’t imagine anyone else but Everest beating him off the ballot. But Everest wasn’t even nominated this year.
Poppy nudged my shoulder. “Earth to Betty? Go on and take that order.”
Suddenly, I was brought back from the stare Nash and I shared, and I didn’t want to go anywhere near that table. Poppy’s eyes widened and looked at me as if I was impaired.
“Well, go on,” she urged. Everyone was busy today—the café was always busy on the open mic nights, but this was the fullest I’d ever seen it. I wished I was in the kitchen or sweeping up backstage; anywhere but here, about to take an order from those guys, but duty called.
I straightened my back, took a deep breath, and strolled to the table with a smile, like I’d do with any other customer. I clutched my notepad so tightly that the paper crumpled beneath my fingers.
“Hi, is there anything I can get you guys?” My smile was laid on thick and my voice was straight sugar.
The guys around the table had broad shoulders and arrogant expressions, and made me feel as if I were prey. Chuckles sounded around the table, and the thought of them as hyenas fit perfectly—those vicious scavengers with sly, sneaky intentions. Nash was the leader of the pack, and I’d never been this close to him. He was very attractive, but almost all of the guys around the table were. It wasn’t so much a cliché as it was a statistic. Too often than not, rich attractive people went for rich attractive people, and then they make a breed of future rich and attractive people.
“So, you’re Everest’s girl? I didn’t know chocolate was his choice of flavor.” A guy with dark-brown hair and gray eyes spoke, his varsity jacket out
lining his broad shoulders. I cringed inside, but on the outside I remained unfazed.
A chubby guy with red hair laughed. “She’s, like, the only black girl in school. Everest is always getting something that no one else can have.”
“Any drinks for you guys tonight? Or would you like to hear the specials?” I didn’t acknowledge any of their comments, and did exactly what I was sent over here to do.
“Cute and determined,” one of the guys said, but I was focused on staring at my notepad, so I didn’t see who it was.
“I’ll have a burger, no pickles,” Nash said. I stared at his crown, confused by its placement. He looked like he was already bored.
I took the remaining orders and walked back to the kitchen. I handed Felix the order and stayed there until all of the food was ready. I knew I was being a punk, and I felt disappointed in myself. The guys hadn’t even done anything to me—I just felt overwhelmed. All of the eyes and snarky looks were just too much for me.
Once the food was finished, I asked Poppy if she could serve it, but she was too busy helping set up the equipment for the band. I glanced at the clock and wondered if Everest had forgotten. A part of me was glad he wasn’t here. He didn’t need to deal with this.
“It’s about time,” one of the guys grumbled, and the others joined in on the complaint. I apologized and handed each of them their marked meals. This was a café, not a full-on restaurant. We had a menu for meals, but no one really came here for that. Felix was a great cook but the point of 21 Daisies was to relax and listen to music.
I was just about to walk away when Nash grabbed the sleeve of my sweater. “There are tomatoes on this burger.”
I stared at the burger confused. “Cool?”
His jaw ticked and just like an order, the eyes of the guys around the table went dark. “I said no tomatoes.”
I shook my head softly and furrowed my eyebrows. “You said no pickles.”
I went to pick up the receipt to show him, and he snatched it from my fingers, his eyes still on me. “Are you telling me that I’m wrong?”