* * *
When I wake, I forget all about my ridiculous attempt to pretend I’m desirable and get ready for school. As I go to the bathroom to shower, I can see my mother is still asleep on the couch and my father has already gone to work. I wash my hair with my favorite coconut oil shampoo and make a sad attempt at shaving my legs, missing many spots here and there.
I brush my teeth quickly, throw some mousse in my hair, not concerned with drying it, and gather my school books before noticing the half-eaten sandwich on my nightstand and quickly running downstairs to toss it in the garbage. With a fling of my backpack over my shoulder, I’m out the door and into my twenty-year-old Mustang. My car is a force of nature.
It is older than any of the other cars the kids drive at school, and the air conditioner has been “fixed” multiple times, yet still doesn’t work. There’s a map light in it, but we can’t find a bulb for it anywhere, and there are burn holes in the seats from the previous owner who smoked. It took me months to get the smell out, and still I get a subtle hint of the odor from time to time.
Simone, uncharacteristically, meets me at my car when I pull into the parking lot with a huge grin spread across her face. She is bouncing up and down, and I can’t help but be confused and entertained by her, pushing my brows together and opening the door.
“What’s going on with you?” I ask as I kick the door shut to my car — the only way I can get it to close properly.
“A guy asked me out! Can you believe it?” I can’t believe it, actually. I’ve never even seen Simone talk to anyone, much less a boy. Although, I’ve always thought there is something cute and childlike about her. She has soft features, the palest green eyes, olive-colored skin, and her red hair is always wavy, yet rather frizzy.
“That’s great. By who? Do I know him?”
“Probably,” she admits. “His name is Evan Quickly. He’s in my Algebra 2 class.” I do know him. It’s hard not to know someone when our junior class consists of about thirteen people. He wears large black-rimmed glasses pushed way up on his face, his pants are always too short for him, and if I’m not mistaken he played tuba in last year’s talent show. Not the guy I would have picked, but to each their own.
“I think I know who you mean. So, where is he taking you?” Believe it or not, I am genuinely interested. The dating scene eludes me so it holds a shred of fascination for me.
“Oh, just a movie I think. He works at the car wash so I doubt he can afford anything fancy. But still!” She squeals, returning to her bouncing.
I laugh. “Well, I think that’s great. Hopefully, you guys have a good time.”
I enter my English class, mildly amused. Even Simone has a date now and I can’t even look a guy in the eye without making a fool of myself. Today in class we are reading over The Crucible play, but having read it before, I’m only halfway paying attention. I’m still trying to find out how to get past my unrealistic nerves regarding Silas and find a way to slip into the friend zone, if nothing else. The impulse to know him better is almost crippling.
I try to picture what Silas would be like on a date and must quickly fan myself with my spiral notebook at the thought. There’s no way I would survive it. I’d pass out or something moronic like that. Not just because it’s him, but with any boy, I’m sure. Maybe because no one has ever paid me attention, therefore I’m not sure how to handle it. It would be nice to talk to my mom about such things, but I’m afraid that ship has sailed.
* * *
As I leave school, I notice Simone and Evan in the parking lot, talking. Evan is wearing pants two sizes too small, and Simone is twisting her frizzy hair around her finger in an attempt to appear innocent, as if she has to act. Still, I smile in their direction, and Simone catches my eye long enough to give me a toothy grin.
It’s hard to prepare for work today. I want to be more attractive than usual but not quite sure how to do that. Adding a bit of makeup, something I rarely do, and wearing my hair up off my neck in a well-crafted bun is a change. This is cute, right? As I arrive to work and close my driver’s-side door with a swift kick, I see Silas in the window, peering out, slightly chuckling at me.
“You should get that fixed,” he offers through a slight grin as I enter the pizzeria. “You’re only making it worse.”
“That car is impossible, and I assure you anything I do to it is only an improvement,” I mutter as I walk past him. I don’t look back at him because I already know he’s probably fighting back a laugh. As I strap on my apron and place my order book in the pocket, I grab a towel to wipe down the waitress station. As I spray the counter, I catch sight of him from the corner of my eye approaching me, and immediately I become self-conscious.
Nope, I change my mind. I can’t do this. Just leave me alone and let me stare at you later.
He leans against the counter with a smirk on his face. The place is empty, and I can hear the same metal music coming from the kitchen where I know Zeke and Kutz are probably playing air guitar as they so often do.
“So, what’s your story?” Silas finally asks, as I continue to wipe the counters, though my hand does hesitate at the question for a moment. “We’re always so busy I’ve never gotten the chance to get to know you.”
“My story?”
He grins wider. “Sure, everyone has a story.”
“Well, what’s yours?” I have a habit of trying to take the focus off myself. This is just a coy. Although, I guess I do wonder what his is.
He seems humored by my response. “Isn’t it obvious? Small-town boy. Restaurant owner. I go home at night and watch TV like the rest of America, go to sleep, and wake back up and do it all over again. Nothing exciting.”
Somehow, I find this difficult to believe. His response leaves much to be desired. Picturing him in front of the TV watching Swamp People or something just doesn’t do it for me.
“No girlfriend then?” As soon as the words leave my mouth I regret them. It is so nosy and not like me at all. I feel embarrassed and hope he doesn’t interpret my question as an invitation. He seems to take it in stride.
“No, no girlfriend.”
I shake my head slightly and finish wiping the counter, only to head toward the back to grab another tea bag to make some fresh for the customers tonight. Undeterred, he follows me.
“Are you purposely avoiding the question?” he asks, now leaning against the back wall as I hunt for the tea bags through several brown boxes on the top shelf.
I shrug. “There’s nothing to tell. High school student. Part-time job. The end.” I find the tea bags, grab the coffee as well, and head back up front to start them brewing.
“I think there’s more,” he says through a slight grin. I finally force myself to peer up at him, and my gaze doesn’t seem to bother him one bit. He’s probably used to people staring at him by now.
My eyes fall to his tattooed arms and I imagine them around me. I catch myself and clear my throat, continuing in my work. As if he can read my mind, he simply continues to smile.
“You’re always so quiet. You work hard. I bet you make perfect grades, don’t you?” he muses.
My eyes roll. “Yeah, I suppose I do.” I quickly turn my attention back to the tea and coffee.
He chuckles. “Is there something wrong with me?”
I glance back up to him in question. “What do you mean?”
“I mean you obviously have a problem making eye contact with people, and the one time you did I had to help clean up the mess.” My cheeks become flushed, but he simply grins. “You think people don’t see you, Emma, but they do. I do.” For a moment I want to say,”with those eyes I’m sure you see everything,“ but then it dawns on me just what he said. That he sees me.
I’m not aware of exactly what he means, but I can’t fight a grin as he turns to walk back into the kitchen. I hear him clap loudly and tell his brothers to get back to work, and I sink into the wall behind me, biting the tip of my nail in delight.
Three
&n
bsp; A Date with Destiny
Today as I catch my reflection in the mirror before school, I’m surprised. There’s a smile there. Honestly, I can’t remember the last time I saw myself do that. My hand instinctively touches my face, and I remember his words as the grin widens, meeting my eyes. I can’t wipe it away. Even with biting my bottom lip in an attempt to stop it.
My face seems a little brighter, and as I hear the wind roar outside, I cross the room to my window and peer out. It’s lovely today. The trees are rustling in the wind, I hear dogs barking, neighbors laughing, and the day seems nicer than any I’ve seen before. I suppose it’s been a long while since I’ve taken the time to admire my surroundings. With my head always in a book or my eyes staring down at my feet as I walk through the halls at school, it’s tough. But today I find myself wondering if there’s more to me than I’ve allowed myself to see.
His words, “I do,” echo in my ears. I hum to myself as I finish preparing for school. Still, I wonder what it is he sees in me, if he’s being honest about seeing me at all.
I arrive at school, not remembering the drive at all, in a complete daze the whole time. Seriously, who gave me a license? Simone isn’t waiting on me today in the parking lot, and I’m hoping that doesn’t mean that things went poorly on her date. Sauntering into my history class, I toss my bag on the floor beside my chair, sit down, and place my head in my hands, trying to wipe the ridiculous grin off my face. It remains there the rest of the day, though.
When I arrive in the cafeteria, I grab the first food tray I come to and sit at mine and Simone’s table. Hopefully she can distract me from my self-obsession with her date recap.
“So, how’d it go?” I ask her, as she plops down in the chair, a whimsical smile on her face. Her eyes slightly bug out for a moment before I notice a new body sitting down beside her. It’s Evan. Today he is wearing suspenders, which I didn’t think anyone actually owned, and a Star Wars shirt underneath. I must admit I fail to see the attraction there, but I can see Simone is happy, which makes me happy for her.
“Emma, this is Evan. Evan, Emma,” she formally introduces us.
I offer my famous fake smile this time and nod my head. “Hey, Evan.” He gives an awkward wave, barely meeting my eyes, and offers a tight, closed-mouth smile. Obviously he is as uncomfortable as the rest of us.
“How was work last night, Emma?” She must not want the attention on herself with her new beau seated with us. But I’m not sure what I can say with an outsider sitting here with us. My eyes jolt back and forth between them for a moment before I regain my thoughts.
“It was…interesting,” I admit.
Her brows pull together. “Interesting? How so?”
I shrug. “Turns out I’m not as invisible as I once thought.” There’s no other way to word it, but even as I say it, I can’t fight the grin that follows, and of course, Miss Perception notices.
“A smile? That’s a first. Do I even detect a slight blush? What’s going on?” She indeed blushes, impressed with the turn of events.
“It’s nothing,” I assure her. “Just a good night at work. How was your night?” I quickly want to change the subject, not sure I want to go into detail with Simone at all, much less with a new face here.
“Well, Evan took me to a movie in Longview. It was actually good,” she gushes. Evan sheepishly looks down at his food and starts eating, unlike Simone and myself.
“Did you have fun, Evan?” I want to include him in the conversation because I know all too well what it feels like to be an outsider. When I came to Jefferson I had no friends at all. Everyone was already so close to each other, had grown up through the years together, and I wasn’t paid much attention to. Not much has changed in that aspect.
The only reason Simone and I created this alliance is because she moved here from somewhere in Maine the year after I did. I immediately took to her side, hoping to form some sort of girly bond in an attempt to not feel so alone. It seems to have worked, I suppose.
“I did,” he acknowledges between bites of his pizza, not offering any more than that. Apparently a man of few words. I wonder for a moment if it is my presence or if he acted like this on their date as well.
“Any plans to go out again?” I try to continue the conversation for a multitude of reasons. It keeps the focus off me, I am genuinely excited for Simone, and I want to pass the time quickly. The sooner school is over, the sooner I can go to work. Thinking of Silas paying me attention has my mind swirling.
Simone glances to Evan and he quickly glares back down at his food. I initially take this as a bad sign, but before lunch is over I notice their half-hidden hands intertwined under the table. It is sweet. She catches a glimpse of me spying on their hands and offers me a smile.
Simone walks me to my next class, spilling more about the date than she had at lunch. Gushing over his arm around her in the theater and him meeting her parents. Then, as if a light bulb turns on, she refocuses on me.
“So, what happened at work? I kind of got the feeling it wasn’t for everyone’s ears,” she concludes.
I take a deep breath. “I’m not sure. Maybe nothing now that I think about it. I just had a moment with Silas before work. It’s all I can think about.”
“Mmm, what kind of moment?” She desperately wants details now, and I realize there are none to give. I shrug and tell her we will talk again after the weekend. I’m so glad it’s Friday. Although, I don’t know why. I never do anything. At least I’ll have the baseball game to watch and document tomorrow.
The rest of the school day drags on. First with Environmental Science, then the seemingly never-ending Algebra 2, and lastly gym. Most of the girls despise gym. I don’t mind it. Today we practice tennis.
I’ve always loved sports. Maybe it is the undeniable allure of a team that draws me in. A group of people with a common goal who work together and cheer one another on. Today we played in teams and I got extremely into it. I was disappointed when it was over. That is, until I realized it was about time for work. Then I perked up.
I have a couple of hours to go home, shower, and change into my uniform before work, which basically consists of jeans and a Three Brothers Pizza T-shirt. Oddly, when I arrive home, both my parents are there and sitting in the living room together talking. That’s strange, but I step cautiously through the living room, down the hall, and into the bathroom to clean up.
* * *
When I arrive at work I try especially hard not to kick my car door shut in case Silas’s eyes are on me again. I attempt to shut it naturally. No go. So I bump it with my hip. Nothing.
I glance around and try to peer into the darkened windows for any signs of customers or owners alike, then finally give in with a hard kick to the door and at last hear the strained click. My eyes roll.
Silas is right. I need to have it looked at. Closing it from the outside is relatively easy when I can kick it, but when I have to get in and close the door, it’s a real hassle. I’m forever pulling on it and hitting it and cursing at it. It’s gotten to where I have to allow myself an extra ten minutes of ready time just to make sure I won’t have to hold the door closed by hand the whole way to school and work. But this job isn’t going to pay for the expense of that. I’ll have to break down and ask my dad for the money. Great.
I walk inside the pizzeria extremely irritated by the thought, all signs of my goofy grin now wiped clean from my face. As I tie my apron around my waist and behind my back, I study the specials for the day. Silas meets me with familiar humor in his eyes.
“You saw,” I conclude by his smirk.
“It was painful to watch.” He laughs. I can’t fight back my laugh as I picture him watching me battle with the scrap metal.
“Well, you saw I tried then.”
He nods in agreement. “You tried.” Our eyes hover over one another for a few seconds. Although, it feels much, much longer. “You ready for tonight?”
My head cocks. “Something going on?”
&nbs
p; His eyebrows rise. “Yeah, we have a birthday party coming in. Some twenty-five people.”
“Great,” I mutter under my breath.
He laughs. “Don’t worry, I’ll help. It’ll make the night go by fast.” I’m torn between emotions. Him helping me would mean I’d get to spend a bit more time admiring him, but I’m not sure I want the night to go by quickly. Seriously, what was waiting for me back home anyway?
As the eight-year-old, his friends, and his entire family pile into the small pizza parlor, I put on my perfect customer service face, seat them, pushing multiple tables together, and hand them all menus. While I wait for them to make up their minds, I stand at the waitress station with only a small partition between us. Silas comes and stands beside me, resting his arms on the counter in a relaxed pose. I can almost feel an electric current run through me. We are almost touching. Something we’ve never done.
We never shook hands, never accidently touched handing pizzas back and forth. I want to scoot my arm just a smidge to the right so I can feel his skin against mine. But I fight the urge. Surely, I can look at him, though. Yes, that I can do.
I raise my head to glance at him, and he lowers his slowly to meet my eyes, but suddenly the front door flies open and two men wielding guns begin hollering demands. They aren’t wearing masks, but I still can’t tell you what they look like. All I know is one minute I’m standing, and now I’m on the floor behind the waitress station, having been pushed down.
Zeke and Kutz file in from the kitchen in a rush, probably to see what all the yelling is about, and I can hear kids and parents alike from the party starting to scream. My mind is racing. Did Silas push me down? I didn’t even feel it. Not until my back and elbows hit the floor. My head shakes in confusion, and for a moment I wonder what could possibly be happening.
“Shut up!” one guy hollers. My eyes bulge before they rise to find Silas standing over me, facing the two men with his hands in the air. Finally, after more demands for silence from the assailants, the room falls quiet. Silas glances down at me, and I nod toward the panic button under the register just a few feet from me. He shakes his head slightly for only me to see. Kutz and Zeke are nowhere I can see, so I conclude they are on the main floor now with the customers. I know the robbers have no idea I’m behind the counter, and I struggle to think of a way to use that to our advantage.
Bloodlines Page 2