Short Stuff

by Alysia Constantine

  Gemma sighed. When Mom started to talk about food, it was ages before she stopped. She rubbed her eyes and looked around at the snack table. Maybe there was something there that wasn’t very bad? But all the plates were empty, with only crumbs and a few juice spills remaining. She wriggled on the chair, dangerously close to tears.

  “Hi, what’s your name?”

  Gemma whipped around, finding a girl on her other side, a short one, with light brown skin and very dark hair. Gemma remembered her from the music games. She had a very pretty voice.

  The girl smiled widely, not waiting for Gemma’s reply.

  “Miss Lily said, but I forgot. It’s rude to forget your friend’s name, isn’t it? Will you be my friend?” She squeezed Gemma’s hand in her sticky one. “I’m Anya. Do you want to share a cookie with me? I saved the last one.”

  She let go of Gemma’s hand and pulled a big, round chocolate cookie out of the kangaroo pocket in her pink hoodie. Gemma’s eyes widened.

  “I can’t,” she said, glancing at her mom.

  “Why? Are you arergic? My cousin is arergic to peanut butter, and he can’t eat peanut butter because he will die, and I think it’s really sad. Will you die if you eat a cookie?”

  Gemma shook her head. “No, but my mom says cookies are bad for health, so I can’t have any.”

  Anya frowned at the cookie in her hand. “Really? They always make me feel good.” She thought for a bit, then grinned. “You know, my mom says that if you really, really, really want something, then it’s okay to have a little bit, even before dinner. So if you really, really, really want a cookie, you can share one with me, yes?”

  Gemma looked at the adults still talking at the other side of the room and nodded. She’d never heard about that rule, but it made sense. She really, really, really wanted that cookie—even more than she wanted her pancakes right now.

  Anya grabbed her hand and tugged. “Come on, it will be our secret!”

  Gemma followed her to the room where they’d played the music games. It was empty now, quiet. She sat on one of the big pillows on the floor next to Anya and took the offered half of the cookie—the bigger piece, she noticed. It smelled like angels and unicorns.

  “I’m Gemma,” she said before taking a bite. “And I will be your best friend.”

  1. Mocha

  The coffee shop was filled with chatter and the pleasant smell of freshly ground coffee. April sun streamed in through the large windows. With its simple décor in black and white and an assortment of seasonal drinks, it was the closest to trendy their little town had to offer. Gemma shifted nervously in the short line.

  “Are you sure they will sell it to us?” she whispered, leaning closer to her best friend’s ear.

  Anya laughed. “Of course they will, silly, it’s not alcohol.”

  “My mom says caffeine should be regulated too. That it should be illegal to sell caffeinated drinks to kids. Or pregnant women.”

  “Well, it’s lucky we are neither, then.” Anya grinned and pushed the long dark curtain of her hair over her shoulder. “Fifteen is hardly childhood. And I thought you didn’t believe it would rot your brain.”

  “No, I know, but…” Gemma bit her lip; her heart beat fast. “I want to do this, but it’s still scary, trying something you were lectured against all your life.”

  “I know.” Anya squeezed Gemma’s sweaty hand. “But I’ve never tried it either, remember? We’re both coffee virgins.”

  Gemma gasped, her freckled cheeks burning. “You can’t say things like that!”

  Anya grinned, showing her small, even teeth. “It’s true, though. This will be our first time.” She waggled her eyebrows. “A true initiation.”

  Gemma hid her face behind her strawberry blond curls.

  “What can I get you, girls?” The barista smiled at them. Anya stepped toward the counter.

  “Two large mochas, please. With whipped cream.”

  “Coming right up. That’s eight fifty.”

  Anya put the two crumpled fives on the counter. “Keep the change,” she said breezily, as if she did this every day. Gemma looked at her with awe. If only she could find it in herself to be as cool and collected.

  “He’s cute,” Anya murmured in her ear as soon as they stepped aside to wait for their drinks.

  “Who?”

  “The barista.”

  Gemma considered the boy as he took an order from another customer. He was young, maybe college-aged, short and compact, with a tousled mess of brown hair falling in his face. She didn’t see the appeal, although he did have a nice smile.

  Minutes later, they were sitting in velvet-covered armchairs by the little corner table, ready to take their first sip. The blue paper cup was pleasantly warm in Gemma’s hands.

  “We’re doing this together, on three,” Anya said. Her brown eyes were bright. “One. Two. Three.”

  The mocha tasted lovely: smooth, cool whipped cream followed by the hot sweetness of milky coffee with just a hint of chocolate. Gemma swallowed the first sip, then immediately took another and closed her eyes in pleasure.

  “Mmm,” she hummed as she put down her cup. “It’s much better than I thought.”

  Anya licked her lips with a little frown. “It’s good, but awfully sweet. I think I’ll have to try a latte next or a cappuccino.”

  Gemma grinned, raising the cup to her lips once more. “So we’re doing this again?”

  “Of course! Not too soon, though. I doubt our parents are going to give us a coffee budget even if we ask nicely.”

  Gemma laughed, feeling light and buoyant with a sudden burst of happiness. “My mom won’t for sure. But we can save some money every now and then. It can be our special treat, just for the two of us together.”

  Anya picked up her cup with a brilliant smile. “I love that idea.”

  2. Frappe

  The street outside the coffee shop was deserted. The air shimmered in the July heat. Gemma took a sip of her blessedly cold mint frappe and looked at Anya from under the wide rim of her sun hat.

  “So what’s your big news? Are your parents buying you a car for your sweet sixteen after all?”

  Anya laughed; the sound carried brightly in the still air. “I wish. No, but it’s the next best thing.”

  “Which is?”

  “I have a boyfriend!” Anya squealed and bounced a few times. Her iced latte sloshed dangerously.

  “What?” Gemma exclaimed. “How? Who?”

  “Ben.” Anya pulled her by the hand to sit on the dusty steps of the library, where the roof offered a bit of shade.

  “Ben? Trumpet-player-ponytail-never-talks-to-anyone Ben?”

  “He’s just shy.”

  “You never even told me you liked him!”

  “I didn’t want to jinx it.” Anya’s brown cheeks blossomed with a rare blush. “We’ve been chatting on Facebook for a couple of weeks now, and last night we went on our first date. Gem, it was perfect.”

  Unable to contain her excitement, she jumped to her feet. Her sundress, a vivid splash of color against the heat-bleached street, danced around her muscular thighs as she paced. Gemma felt an unpleasant pang in her chest. Was it silly that she felt betrayed?

  Yes, yes it was. She forced the little ball of hurt down and set her face into a look of interest.

  “What did you do?”

  “Oh, nothing much. We got coffee and then drove around in his car talking. And we parked in a field and watched the sunset.”

  Gemma tried her best to smile. “That must have been nice.”

  “It was. And then we made out for, like, two hours. It was crazy.”

  “Anya!” Gemma nearly dropped her cup.

  The grin on Anya’s face was all delight; her eyes sparkled. “What? We were just kissing. He has the most incredible lips, you know? Must be
all that trumpet practice. I never thought kissing could feel like that.”

  Incredulous, Gemma shook her head. “And he asked you to be his girlfriend?”

  “When we were saying goodnight on my porch. I said yes, of course. I really like him.”

  Gemma put the straw in her mouth and took a few gulps, barely feeling the cold. “Wow,” she said when she could no longer delay a reaction. “I… I can’t believe you didn’t tell me, you goose. This is huge!”

  “I know, I know. I’m sorry. Are you mad?” Anya batted her long eyelashes with an adorable pout.

  “Are you kidding? I’m happy for you.”

  “You’re the best!” Anya pulled her up and into a hug and pressed a quick kiss to her cheek, and Gemma did her best to stifle the ugly feeling in her gut. She was happy for Anya. She was. It would just take a little bit of getting used to. That was all.

  3. Drip

  “I still can’t believe your parents let us drive to the cabin all by ourselves!” Gemma wiggled happily, stretching her too-long legs in the cramped space of the passenger seat as best she could. It was a beautiful Friday afternoon, their junior year was nearly over, and they had the whole weekend at the lake cabin to look forward to.

  Anya’s smile was mischievous even in profile. “To be honest, they think Ben is going with us as the responsible newly minted adult and second driver.”

  Gemma sat straighter. “Your parents let you take Ben?”

  “Only because you were going. I had to promise I would be sleeping with you in their bedroom, and Ben would be alone in mine.”

  “No, but they let you bring your boyfriend, and you didn’t?”

  Anya shrugged. “I wanted some girl time. We haven’t had any for weeks.”

  That was true, and Gemma missed their sleepovers and lazy weekends together more than she could express. Still, something seemed off.

  “Is everything all right between you two?” she asked.

  “Of course it is,” Anya scoffed, not even glancing at her. “It’s just, if Ben came, it would make you uncomfortable.”

  “Anya. I would be fine. You shouldn’t—”

  Anya didn’t let her finish. “And he would expect me to sneak into his bed once you were asleep, and I don’t want to. So really, it’s fine. Girls’ weekend!” she trilled, driving the car into a rest stop parking lot. “Okay, I really need to pee. And we should get coffee. Even a three-hour road trip isn’t complete without a coffee break.”

  Gemma caught her hand before she could get out of the car, forcing Anya to face her at last. “Hey. He’s not… pressuring you, is he?” she asked carefully.

  Anya shook her head quickly. “No. I promise, he’s not. It’s just that we’ve been together for almost a year, and he’s been suggesting going further, and I’m not ready for that. We just need to talk—we will, soon. But not this weekend, and not at the cabin where he might expect something to happen.”

  Gemma nodded slowly, only marginally relieved. “You would tell me if he was giving you trouble, wouldn’t you?”

  “Of course I would. But there’s no trouble. Just, you know… growing pains.” Anya rolled her eyes with that self-deprecating little smile she used so often. “Now, come on. Coffee.”

  The store was dark, with a neglected look that gave Gemma the creeps. Even the air smelled stale. The surly man behind the counter followed them with hungry eyes as they crossed the cramped space to the bathroom. Well, followed Anya and her feminine curves, really. Gemma’s awkward, boyish looks never got any heads turned, thank goodness. She made sure the bathroom door was properly locked behind them and breathed a sigh of relief when Anya declared they’d take their coffee to go. She didn’t want to spend any longer than she had to at this place.

  The creepy man poured them tar-like coffee from the half-empty pot and shrugged when they asked for milk. Safely back in the car, Gemma added two packets of sugar to hers, but it didn’t help; the coffee was strong and bitter, with a burnt aftertaste. Anya made a face over her own cup.

  “Blech. How long did that pot sit there?” Then she quirked an eyebrow. “Hey, I just realized: we’re in a scary movie cliché. Two pretty girls traveling alone, empty road, bad coffee at a rundown store, a cabin in the woods. All we need is either a serial killer or zombie beavers.”

  Gemma snorted. “Zombie beavers?”

  “There’s a movie about those; I’m not even kidding. I saw a trailer with Ben. He tried to get me to watch the whole thing, but, no thank you, I’ll stick to comedies. I have enough to last us all weekend, by the way, even if the weather breaks.”

  “Unless we’re interrupted by zombie beavers,” Gemma added, barely able to suppress her giggles.

  “Yeah, or serial killers. Are you done with that sad excuse for a coffee? We still have an hour to go.”

  No serial killers or zombie anything bothered them, and they watched two lighthearted movies, ate microwave popcorn, and sipped sparkling cider before crawling into bed—the big one in Anya’s parents’ bedroom.

  “I did promise them, didn’t I?” Anya grinned, flushed from a hot shower and sweetly sleepy in her pink footie pajamas. “Plus, the basic mistake they always make in scary movies is getting separated.”

  Anya fell asleep instantly, but Gemma lay awake for a long time, trying to get comfortable on the too-soft mattress. The night was utterly black outside; every little noise was scary in its foreignness. The woods creaked and rustled; the lapping of water sounded like someone rowing stealthily closer. Gemma’s heart hammered in her chest.

  Determined to stay rational, she turned her eyes to her best friend’s face, relaxed in sleep. In the darkness, it was an elusive play of shadows: a soft curve of a cheek, a dark smudge of eyelashes. This close, she could smell the strawberry scent of Anya’s body wash. Gemma thought back to their conversation at the store, so expertly diverted by Anya, and the fierce wave of protectiveness returned with an intensity that startled her. If Ben hurt her… Anya knew how to take care of herself, and Gemma was not a violent person, not by a long shot. But if anyone hurt Anya, they would live to regret it. Dearly.

  In the still darkness, she reached across the pillow and took her best friend’s hand, which was curled next to her face. Anya smiled in her sleep.

  4. Espresso

  “If I read one more page, I’m gonna die.” Anya flipped onto her back and pushed the book to the floor. She blinked owlishly at the ceiling. “We need coffee.”

  Gemma marked a place in her own notes and moved them to the side. “If we have coffee now, we won’t be able to sleep at all.”

  “That’s the point. We cram all we can tonight and then tomorrow we get plenty of sleep and go for the SATs both prepared and rested.” Anya sat up and stretched. Her soft pajama top rode up to show a strip of smooth skin.

  She looked soft, without the make-up she’d taken to wearing in the last year, with her hair in a messy bun on top of her head. Gemma always found her beautiful, but tonight it hit her harder than ever. She barely resisted reaching out to touch.

  Startled by the intensity of the urge, Gemma cleared her suddenly dry throat and got to her feet.

  Anya followed, stepping toward the bedroom door. “Come on, I have to show you the new espresso machine my parents bought.”

  They crept downstairs through the sleeping house, and soon the cozy, neat kitchen was filled with a warm aroma that Gemma had long come to associate with their time together. She never drank coffee with anyone else. Her mom, still the health freak, never allowed any at home.

  “Nope. No milk, no sugar.” Anya stopped her before Gemma had a chance to open the fridge. “It’s a proper, quality espresso, and we’re drinking it straight tonight.”

  Gemma frowned at the little cups, filled to the brim with black, steaming liquid topped with a layer of crema. “This looks bigger than an espresso.”

  �
��It’s a double. We need a good strong shot of caffeine. Now, drink up.”

  Gemma obediently raised the cup to her lips. She shuddered at the first mouthful of the bitter drink. It wasn’t bad, exactly, just so much more intense than she was used to, rich and complex without the softening taste of milk and sugar. She finished her cup in a few more swallows, following Anya’s lead. Already she felt more awake, if only from the scent.

  “Are you hungry?” Anya asked.

  “Not really, are you?”

  “Just a little. We should eat something anyway to keep our energy up. How about a banana? It’s supposed to be great when you need to stay awake.”

  “Fine.”

  They ate in silence, leaning against the counter side by side with the tiled white floor cold against their bare feet. Gemma was only halfway finished when Anya murmured, “Do you wanna know a secret?” She turned to Gemma with a coy smile. “I’m going to lose my virginity after the prom.”

  Gemma nearly choked on a bite of banana. “You’re what?”

  Anya laughed and rolled her eyes. “Yes, it’s the biggest cliché ever, I know. But it feels right. I’m ready, Ben’s more than ready, and I kind of want it that way. An unforgettable night. I’m already on the pill, and Ben has booked us a hotel room for after the dance. It’s gonna be perfect.” She smiled dreamily, and Gemma crammed the rest of the banana into her mouth to avoid blurting out something she absolutely shouldn’t. Her stomach felt like lead; all of the butterflies were gone.

  Anya didn’t even seem to notice her silence. “How about you and Patrick? Any plans like that, by any chance?” She grinned, waggling her beautifully shaped eyebrows.

  Gemma swallowed and forced her voice out through her tightened throat. “I’m not going to prom with Patrick.”

  “What? Why not?”

  “I, um, I broke up with him, actually. Last week.”

  Anya’s eyes widened. “Oh, my god, why didn’t you tell me? What happened? Are you all right?” She stepped closer. Her hand stroked Gemma’s bare arm. Gemma’s breath stuttered, but she forced it to even out.

  “I’m fine, really. I just realized he’s not my type. It wasn’t going anywhere.”