Burnt Orange

by Melody Carlson

  It takes about five minutes to get to the deli, and I have to admit that it looks like a great little place, with blue canvas awnings and outdoor seating, like something right out of Europe—not that I’ve been there. The place is called Merenda’s, and when we go inside, there is jazz music playing, and suddenly I feel very grown-up.

  I study the handwritten menu on the easel near the counter to discover this place is a giant step up from the boring selection of food in the cafeteria, but not feeling overly adventuresome, I finally decide on the corned beef sandwich. Claire orders pumpkin soup and salad and then—just as calm as can be—orders a glass of wine (a Pinot Noir, whatever that is). Well, I try not to look totally shocked, but I’m feeling pretty curious as to what this cashier is going to do. Without being obvious, I glance at Claire, and although she could probably pass for twenty-one (especially when, like today, she’s dressed so stylishly), I also know the law. Cashiers are supposed to card anyone who looks less than thirty. I watch and wait.

  “May I see your ID?” asks the older woman.

  “Sure,” says Claire, reaching into her purse for her wallet. “I’m used to being carded,” she tells her in an offhanded way. “My mom says the sad thing is when you don’t get carded anymore. But then, she’s in her forties.”

  The woman laughs and hands back the driver’s license. “I know how your mom feels,” she says sadly. “I can’t even remember the last time I was carded.”

  And that’s it. We take our number and go sit down at a corner table and wait for our order. But when I’m sure that the woman is safely out of hearing distance, I ask Claire about her ID. “Where did you get that?”

  “Well, it’s fake, of course. But I know a guy who’s really good at this. I’m not sure how he does it, but his IDs never get questioned.”

  “Can I see it?”

  “Not here,” she says, smiling up at the woman who is now bringing our lunches, along with Claire’s glass of red wine.

  “Anything else?” asks the woman.

  “No, thanks. This looks perfect,” says Claire.

  Before we leave, Claire has the nerve to order another glass of wine! And then, after leaving a generous tip for the oblivious woman, Claire drinks it up and we leave. I’m sure my hands are shaking as we exit Merenda’s. I don’t even know why. I mean, it’s not as if I’ve done anything wrong, but I’m finding that Claire’s nerve is very unnerving.

  Claire laughs as we walk back to school. “Lighten up, Amber. It’s no big deal. Did you know that kids in France drink wine all the time? I went there with Mom and Mike a couple summers ago, right after they got married. I was only sixteen, and I got to drink wine whenever I wanted to.”

  “Seriously?” I find this hard to believe. “Your mom let you drink wine in France?”

  “Oui, mademoiselle. And she even used to let me drink it at home too—not a lot, but for special dinners and holidays and stuff. Unfortunately, she’s changed her thinking on that whole thing, as well as a bunch of other things too. That’s why I’ve taken matters into my own hands lately.” Then she pops a breath mint into her mouth. “Want one?”

  I nod and silently accept a mint.

  “Now, what we need to do is get you a fake ID, Amber. It’s really easy. All I need is your photo, like one from last year’s yearbook. That’s where I got mine.”

  “I don’t know . . .” I say. “For one thing, my junior picture does not look like I’m twenty-one. But besides that, it just doesn’t seem right.”

  “Oh, come on, Amber. It’s no big deal. I want to do this for you. Why don’t you just let me take care of it and you can see what you think when it’s finished?”

  Just then we are joined by a couple of girls. They are coming back to school after eating at Benny’s Burger Joint. And when Claire tells them about our lunch at Merenda’s, they are quite impressed. They’re all friends of Claire’s—or at least they used to be. But to my surprise, they are quite nice and actually seem to like Claire and care about her. We tell them about our lunch, and Claire even admits to using a fake ID to buy wine.

  “No way,” says Haley. “You got away with that in broad daylight?”

  Claire nods proudly.

  “How about you?” Megan asks me.

  I shake my head. “I don’t have a fake ID.”

  “Not yet,” says Claire, “but she will.”

  Soon they are all pulling out their fake IDs and showing me. It’s like these small plastic cards are some kind of badge of courage or medal of honor or ticket to freedom, and it’s not long before I think it might actually be cool to have a fake ID too.

  “It can get you into some really good clubs,” says Haley. “And you can meet new people and hear some pretty cool bands play.”

  “Just don’t overdo the drinking part,” warns Megan. “Don’t follow Claire’s bad example.”

  “Give me a break,” says Claire with a hurt expression. “Haven’t you heard? I’ve been doing better lately.”

  “Really?” Megan’s raised brows and firm mouth look somewhat unconvinced.

  “Yes,” says Claire with an air of confidence. “Amber’s a good influence on me.”

  Now Megan is smiling at me as though this being a good influence is really a good thing. And I think I actually feel a small flutter of pride, like maybe I really am helping Claire after all, like maybe God is at work here. But at the same time, I wonder how that can possibly be true.

  Megan and Claire are walking together ahead of me now, and Megan is expressing her sympathy over Claire’s breakup with Tommy. I listen from behind and feel, I hate to admit, just a little bit jealous, like that maybe I’ll be left behind now that Megan is back in the picture.

  Just then, Haley turns around. “Don’t worry,” she says in this unexpected confidential tone. “Those two don’t have a real chance of becoming good friends again.” Then she really lowers her voice and tells me that Megan has already moved in on Tommy and is simply trying to make things okay with Claire first. Well, I don’t even know how to respond to that, and so I don’t. But I do think the way these girls operate is rather mysterious. But then I’ve always felt that way about popularity in general.

  I guess the most amazing thing is that I’m here right now, right in their midst, as if I’m really part of their group. And even stranger is the fact that they seem to be, for the most part, accepting me. Of course, I know this is only because of Claire. And her acceptance among her peers seems to be somewhat shaky, to say the least. Still, I’m thinking this whole thing is kind of fun—while it lasts anyway. The more I’m around Claire and her drinking habits, the more comfortable I’m getting with the whole thing. Like really, what’s the big deal anyway?

  eight

  SIMI MEETS UP WITH ME AT MY LOCKER, BUT I CAN’T QUITE READ HER expression.

  “I know, I know,” I say to her, hoping to cut right to the chase. “You’re probably wondering where I was at lunch. I would’ve told you, but I didn’t see you around. Claire invited me to have lunch with her and—”

  “Did you guys drink?”

  I give her my best offended look. “No, officer,” I say indignantly. “Do you want to smell my breath or make me walk a line?”

  She shakes her head. “Well, you can’t blame me for thinking that—not after the past few days.”

  I nod and attempt to look somewhat contrite. “I know. But if it makes you feel any better, Claire actually told her other friends that I’m a good influence on her. And they seemed to be relieved. So there.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. Maybe God really is at work here, Simi.” I feel sort of excited now, like I’m actually believing this myself. “I mean, he does work in mysterious ways. Maybe he’s going to use me to get through to those girls.”

  Simi nods. “Yeah, you could be right. I guess really I should be praying for them. Wouldn’t it be cool if God did something big at our school before graduation?”

  “Maybe that’s what’s happening.”
/>
  We talk about this some more as we walk to class together, and she seems both surprised and impressed when Haley and Stacy wave at us, like maybe she’s really convinced.

  “Oh, yeah,” she says as we’re about to part ways, “my aunt said to stop by after school. I told her you get out early, and she said around two would be great.”

  “Thanks,” I tell her. “When do you start?”

  “Tomorrow.”

  After fifth period, I find Claire and explain that I won’t be around to give her a ride home like I’d planned.

  “You’re so lucky to have early release. I should’ve worked harder last year.”

  “Well, at least you don’t have to get a part-time job to earn money,” I remind her. “I think I’d rather be in school than working in some silly candy store.”

  “Well, just don’t start eating that stuff,” she warns. “You could be a porker by graduation time.”

  I roll my eyes. “Thanks for the encouragement.”

  “Oh, yeah,” she says suddenly, lowering her voice and looking around. “I heard that Slater Ross thinks you’re pretty cool. I think he’s going to ask you out.”

  “No way,” I say in a hushed voice. “Who told you that?”

  “Haley. She and Slater are friends—just friends. Not only that, but Haley thinks you’re cool too.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yeah. I think everyone used to think you were just a Little Miss Perfect. Now that you’re lightening up, they’re seeing you in a whole new light.”

  I nod. “Cool.”

  “Let me know if anything happens with Slater.”

  “For sure.”

  “You guys would be a good couple. Maybe he’ll ask you to the prom.” Now she gets a sad expression. “But I guess I’ll be home alone that night.”

  I reach out and put my hand on her arm. “Hey, the prom isn’t such a big deal.”

  She shrugs. “Well, I’ve probably been to more than my fair share already. And don’t worry, I’ve already heard about Megan making the move on Tommy. I don’t really care. She can have him if she wants him that bad.”

  “Really? You’re okay with it?”

  “There are other fish in the sea.” Then she laughs. “I sound just like my mom!”

  I laugh. “Well, it may be corny, but it’s true.”

  “In fact . . .” She looks as if she just thought of something. “There’s this guy I met a couple weeks ago. He doesn’t go to our school. Hmmm . . .”

  I slap her on the back. “Okay, you go, girl.”

  “Maybe we can double-date to the prom.”

  “Yeah, sure. I don’t even have a date.”

  Claire wriggles her eyebrows. “We’ll see.”

  “Well, I better go. I’m supposed to have an interview around two and I think I should go home and change first.”

  “For The Caramel Corn Shoppe?” She shakes her head. “I think you look just fine. But I better go. I’m late for class.”

  We take off in different directions. Now, while I’m slightly relieved not to be giving Claire a ride home today, I also feel disappointed to leave her. I mean, she really can be such fun. And all this talk about Slater and the prom, well, it’s pretty exciting stuff—at least for me. I’ve never even gone to the prom. I never actually thought I ever would. Now, Simi has a chance to go since this guy in her art class has asked her like a million times, but she keeps putting him off. Maybe if she thought I were going she’d go.

  Anyway, I have to push these thoughts from my head as I do my little interview with Simi’s aunt. Jan is a lot younger than Simi’s mom. Probably in her early thirties, I’m guessing. She’s not married and although she’s pretty, she’s a little on the pudgy side, which is probably understandable when you realize she owns The Caramel Corn Shoppe. But she seems like a genuinely nice person and, although she’s not a Christian, she appreciates the fact that my dad is a pastor.

  “So you probably need to have Sundays off,” she says like I already have the job.

  “Well, I noticed your sign says you don’t open until noon. If I go to early service, I could easily be here by that time.”

  She brightens. “And what about Saturday nights?” she asks. “Simi said you guys have youth group that night.”

  I consider this. “Well, that’s true. But I’ve gone to church and youth group my whole life. I don’t think it’d hurt to miss a few.” Her sign also says that the shop closes at seven thirty on Saturdays, and I figure that might still give me time to have a little fun, not to mention a good excuse to miss youth group—not that I’m really planning to do that. I mean, that would be wrong.

  “Well, if you want the job, it’s yours, Amber. I will be so relieved to finally have some responsible girls in here.”

  I smile. “And you don’t have to worry about me eating the merchandise,“ I assure her. “I don’t have that much of a sweet tooth and I’m trying to watch my weight.” Oops, I wish I hadn’t said that—she might take it personally.

  But she just laughs. “You and me both. But let me warn you, this place can be pretty tempting sometimes.”

  “I don’t know.” I glance around the colorful shop as I consider this. “I think just the smell of all this sugar might make me think I don’t want any.”

  “Well, I have this little trick,” she admits. “I let my workers eat as much of anything and everything they want during their first day on the job. Usually they get sick and for the most part avoid sneaking treats after that—although the girl I just fired liked to give stuff away to all her friends.” Jan makes an angry face that I think might be a warning.

  “That really burns me.”

  “Yeah, I can imagine. Well, don’t worry about that with me. My parents have raised me to know the difference between right and wrong.”

  “Good for them.”

  But now I’m wondering how much truth was in that last claim. I mean, sure, I know the difference between right and wrong, but I haven’t exactly been choosing too carefully lately. Still, that might all be changing now—or at least that’s what I tell myself.

  “So when can you start?” she’s asking me.

  “Uh, anytime.”

  “Well, Simi is starting tomorrow. Since I have to train her, why don’t I train you at the same time? We’ll kill two birds with one stone.”

  So it’s agreed and she hands me some papers and tells me to come in tomorrow at three. “You guys can do the three-to-nine shift. We’re open until nine on every day except Saturday and Sunday.”

  “I saw the sign,” I remind her.

  “Oh, yeah. Okay, see you tomorrow.”

  My parents seem surprisingly happy to hear I’ve taken a parttime job. I’m not sure what’s up with that, but I guess they’re assuming my earnings will all go into my savings account for college. And while some of it will, I plan to have a little fun too. Like Claire says, this is the end of our senior year and we should make it something we never forget.

  “Did you get the job?” asks Simi when she calls shortly after dinner.

  “Yep,” I tell her. “Jan is going to train both of us tomorrow.”

  “Cool.” I can hear relief in her voice. “Now maybe things will get back to normal again.”

  “Normal?”

  She laughs. “Oh, you know. With us and the way we both are trying to follow God and be good Christian examples. You know what I mean.”

  “Oh, yeah.” I notice the flatness in my voice. “I guess that’s normal.”

  “Hey, did you hear there’s going to be a citywide evangelism thing this summer? I can’t remember what it’s called, but Lena was telling me about it yesterday. They’re trying to get volunteers from all the different churches in town to help with counseling and stuff. I’m surprised your dad hasn’t mentioned it.”

  “Actually, he was just talking about it at dinner.” I try to sound more enthused than I feel. “It’s called Stand Up! and it’s some kind of crusade. I guess our church is going to ge
t involved too.”

  “Sounds cool. Maybe we can get some kids from school to come. I hear they’re going to have some Christian bands and speakers directed at our age group.”

  “That’ll be great.”

  “Well, I hope we’ll have time to be involved—I mean, now that we’ve got jobs and stuff.”

  “Hey, even though I’m working, I still plan on having a life,” I tell her.

  “Duh.”

  We talk some more about Stand Up! and finally I tell her that I really have to get to my homework. “I kind of neglected it this weekend.”

  “Yeah, I’m sure you did.”

  But the truth is, I just want to get off the phone. All this talk about evangelism makes me feel uncomfortable or maybe guilty. I mean, how can I be involved in something like that when I’m not even praying these days? In some ways it feels like I’ve turned my back on God completely. I try to convince myself that I’m on vacation, like I’ve worked so hard and for so long being a good Christian that I deserve a break. And maybe I do.

  My cell phone rings again, and this time it’s Claire. “What’s up?” I ask.

  “The best news!” she gushes. “I talked to Slater today, and he does like you. He said he looked for you at lunch today but couldn’t find you.” She laughs. “I told him that was my fault, but he was totally impressed when he heard what we’d done.”

  “You’re kidding!” I say as I crash onto my bed. “That is so cool.”

  “Yeah. And we were talking about how to get you guys together, and he thought maybe he could take you out for coffee.” She laughs. “Yeah, that sounds like fun.”

  “Hey, it sounds fine to me.”

  “Well, maybe for starters. Anyway, I think he’s going to talk to you tomorrow, so you better make yourself available.”

  “Cool.”

  We talk some more, but I notice that Claire seems to have a hard time staying with me in the conversation, like maybe she’s watching TV or something. Then it occurs to me that her words are slightly slurred.