Burnt Orange

by Melody Carlson

  “Have you been drinking?” I ask.

  “Huh?”

  “I’m just curious,” I say, hoping that I’m not sounding all confrontational or anything. “Have you had something to drink?”

  “Oh, yeah, just a couple. No big deal.”

  I want to ask her why she drinks so much and whether she’s concerned about her health and stuff, but it’s like I can’t find the words. “Well, I better go,” I finally say. “I’ve still got homework.”

  “Homework . . .” Her voice kind of trails off.

  “Yeah. Take care, okay?”

  “Yeah, sure.” Then she hangs up and I feel bad, like maybe I offended her. However, I doubt she’ll even remember it tomorrow.

  So after I finish up my homework, I decide to do a little research. Now, I’m sure Claire and her friends would think this is totally ridiculous, not to mention nerdy, but this is just the way I normally think. I like to get the facts. Maybe I am a nerd. But since my computer’s on, I decide to start Googling information about alcohol.

  Okay, I have to admit that most of what I’m reading is pretty scary stuff. But it seems that the worst danger lies with binge drinking. That means consuming more alcohol than your body can handle. I don’t think that’s what I’m into—at least I hope not. And I’ll try to make sure I avoid that. I’ve also learned that if you eat food and drink water, you should be okay with just a couple of drinks.

  Okay, maybe I am whitewashing this a bit, since I keep avoiding the sites that seem to be filled with gloom and doom. I mean, I want to be realistic about the dangers, but no need to go off the deep end, right? I mean, like one of the statistics I read is that next to caffeine, alcohol is the most widely used drug in the world. But then, who really considers caffeine to be a drug or dangerous? I also read that moderate use (like one glass of wine) is actually good for cholesterol levels—not that I need to worry about that.

  Finally I am too sleepy to focus my eyes and so I turn off the computer and try not to obsess over the various ways alcohol can affect a person. I’ll think about that tomorrow.

  nine

  I PUT ON WHAT I THINK IS A FAIRLY COOL OUTFIT AND TRY TO “MAKE myself available” the next day, but I only see Slater once, and he seems totally oblivious to me. Not only that, but Claire also seems to be avoiding me. Of course, Simi is around, and that’s some consolation, but for some reason, I feel like I’m being blown off by everyone else. And sitting with Simi Gartolini and Lisa Chan during lunch is—how can I put this politely?—boring.

  “It’s nice to have you back,” says Lisa. “I thought maybe you’d gone over to the dark side.”

  “The dark side?” I stare at her like she’s an alien.

  She laughs. “I’m just kidding. But seriously, Simi told me about how you’ve been drinking and—”

  “Simi told you?” I turn to stare at Simi now

  “I just asked her to be praying for you—”

  “I don’t need people praying for me, thank you very much.”

  “Well, we’ve been concerned,” says Lisa defensively. “And it’s just because we love you and want—”

  “Maybe you should try loving some other people,” I suggest as I finish off the last bite of my burger. “Like people who don’t go to church or call themselves Christians.” Then I stand up.

  “Oh, don’t get all mad, Amber.”

  I smile at them in the way I’ve been trained to for years. “I’m not mad at you guys. I just need to stop by the library before fifth period. See you later.”

  But the truth is, I’m seething as I dump my tray and head for the exit. But I’m not just mad at Lisa and Simi—I’m also really frustrated at Claire and Slater. I feel like they’ve let me down. I mean, why is everyone suddenly treating me like I’m some kind of social disease? I stop by the bathroom and look in the mirror. Is something wrong with me? Like, do I have spinach in my teeth or a big red zit on my chin or a booger in my nose? Is there something I’ve failed to notice that’s driving people away? But all I see is the sad face of a preacher’s kid who doesn’t quite know where she fits in anymore.

  “Get over yourself,” I whisper to my image. “Everything is not about you.” Okay, it sounds good, but I don’t really believe it. I head off to my last class feeling like the loser that I am, and it’s no big surprise when nobody notices or talks to me. I am so relieved when class is over and it’s time to go to work.

  Simi and I have already decided to take separate cars since it’s just easier, and I leave school so quickly that I’m pretty sure I’ll get there before her. Besides, I have to change into my work clothes, which are actually just black pants and a white T-shirt but are what Jan has instructed us to wear. Naturally, I refuse to do this changing at school since I’d be too embarrassed to be seen walking around in such a boring sort of preppy outfit. Of course, Simi says it’s no big deal and that she plans to change in the girls’ bathroom. I plan to change at the public restroom in the mall.

  It’s not even three o’clock when I show up at The Caramel Corn Shoppe all dressed and ready to go. I gave myself a little pep talk as I tied my hair back into a ponytail, and I am now determined to put my disappointing day behind me and be the best employee Jan has ever hired.

  “You’re early,” she says with a smile. “I like that.”

  “Simi should be here soon.”

  Then she hands me the dreaded uniform, which is really a red-and-white gingham apron. It has a bib that’s got a ruffle around it and looks like something out of the last millennium. “I expect you to wear this at all times when you’re at work,” she says in a firm voice. “My customers expect it, and it’s like our assurance of quality and cleanliness.” Then she proceeds to lecture me about hygiene and how important it is to wash my hands regularly.

  I nod and listen as if I’m very impressed with this technical level of training, and then Simi shows up and I am subjected to the same lecture all over again.

  After Simi and I demonstrate that we both already know how to use a cash register and that we are capable of following the very specific and rather simple directions on the caramel-corn machine, Jan decides to leave us on our own for a bit while she makes a coffee run.

  “This looks pretty easy,” I say as soon as Jan is out the door.

  “Yeah, and it’s never very busy in here on weekdays.”

  “In other words, it’s probably going to be pretty boring.” She shrugs.

  “I wonder why she needs both of us here at once.”

  “I think it’s just until she’s convinced we’re trained.”

  Then our first customers come in. It’s a mom with two young children who, in my opinion, may be more in need of a nap than a sugar high. But after several squabbles and a few tears, they all finally agree to a quarter pound of jelly beans and a medium box of caramel corn. I weigh and bag the jelly beans while Simi fills the box. Then I let Simi (since she’s Jan’s niece) do the cash register. And when I glance at the clock, I’m dismayed to see that it’s only three thirty. At this rate, I’ll be a hundred years old by closing time.

  I stifle a big yawn and reach for the Windex. Jan made it clear that we are to stay busy when there are no customers, and it looks like the glass on the candy counter could use a cleaning.

  “Good girl,” says Jan when she returns with her coffee.

  And so goes the afternoon. Boring, boring, boring. But hey, at least I’m making money, right?

  Simi and I are both hugely relieved when Jan leaves us to take a dinner break.

  “How does she make any money off this place?” I ask Simi. “I mean, so far we couldn’t have sold more than twenty dollars worth of stuff. That can’t possibly even cover our wages.”

  Simi shrugs. “My mom says that Grandma Gartolini left Jan most of her money.”

  “More than your dad got?”

  “I don’t know. He doesn’t talk about it, but I think Jan must’ve been the favorite, since she was the baby. And maybe my grandma thought my
dad was doing okay since he had his law practice and everything. But Aunt Jan was kind of just floundering around.”

  “And she spent her inheritance on this shop?”

  Simi laughs now. “Dad always says that his baby sister was absent on the day that the brains were handed out.” Then she gets serious. “Customer alert,” she says in a stern voice.

  I turn around to see that not only is this a “customer alert” but it’s also a “kids from our school alert,” and I suddenly wish I could disappear or maybe make a quick trip to the back room.

  “Hey, there,” says Slater with a smile.

  “Hey,” I say, pasting on my Sunday smile. “How’s it going?”

  “Okay.”

  Kent Fischer is with Slater, which makes this unexpected meeting even more awkward. “You really work here?” says Kent. The last time I spoke to him was at his little get-together on Saturday night, and I’m sure I seemed like a different person then.

  I can feel my face flushing as I nod. “Yeah, I just started.” I gesture toward Simi. “Simi’s aunt owns the shop and we both just started today.” Okay, I know I sound totally lame. Why am I babbling on like this, like I think they even care? And what are they doing here anyway? I wish I could just disappear.

  “You guys want some caramel corn or something?” asks Simi as if she’s not talking to a couple of the coolest guys in school. And I have to wonder what makes her so grounded and secure. Is it just because she’s beautiful? And if so, how is that fair?

  I notice that Kent is really studying her now, looking at her like he’s never even seen her before. “Nice outfits,” he says in a teasing voice.

  She calmly smiles. “Thanks. I feel like a real domestic goddess in this little number.”

  He laughs. “Okay, I guess I’ll have some caramel corn after all.” He studies the sizes of boxes on the display. “How about a large?”

  “No problem.”

  As Simi takes care of Kent’s order, Slater seems to be focusing on me. “I was looking for you at school today,” he says quietly

  I feel my brows rising in that “yeah, sure” expression, but “oh” is all I can come up with. Clever.

  “Did Claire tell you anything?” he continues.

  Suddenly I’m realizing that Slater might be on the shy side, although this has never occurred to me before. I mean, he hangs with the cool kids and likes to party and stuff. “Yeah,” I say quickly “Claire did mention something.” But that’s all he’s getting from me. I am not about to bring up the subject of going out for coffee.

  “Well, do you get a break or anything tonight?” he asks.

  I feel my heart sinking. “I actually had my break already,” I admit.

  “Oh. Well, I just got out of track practice and thought I’d stop in and say hey.”

  I smile now. “I’m glad you did.”

  He turns away from me and looks at the caramel-corn boxes now. “I guess I’ll take a small box of that stuff.”

  “That stuff?” I sort of tease. “Haven’t you ever had caramel corn before?”

  He looks slightly embarrassed now. “Actually, I haven’t.”

  “Oh.” So I turn around and make myself busy by filling a small box as full as I can get it. I fill it and shake it down and then fill it again, knowing I’m taking way too long and probably looking like a total nerd. Why does something this simple have to feel so awkward? I remember how easily we talked at Kent’s house on Saturday night. Why is it so hard now?

  I give him the box, and he hands me a five-dollar bill. I push the buttons on the cash register and then count out his change, noticing the sparks I get when my hand touches his. Can he feel it too?

  “Maybe tomorrow night?” he says as I give him the last quarter.

  “Huh?”

  “For coffee?”

  I nod. “Yeah, sure. That would be great.”

  “So do you work tomorrow too?”

  “Yeah, but I could save my break for when you get here.”

  He smiles now. “Cool.”

  Then Kent makes a few more comments about our charming outfits and the shop in general, and then they take their caramel corn and leave. I can’t believe how relieved I am once they’re gone, and yet at the same time, I wish they’d stayed longer. Confusing.

  “I think I forgot to wear deodorant today,” I tell Simi as I check my pits, which makes her laugh.

  “Are you really that nervous?”

  “Yeah.” I look at her like duh.

  “Do you really like him that much?”

  “Could you tell?”

  She rolls her eyes.

  “It looked like Kent was really checking you out,” I say, hoping this will change the subject.

  She shrugs. “He’s not my type. Besides, doesn’t he go with Haley

  Banks?”

  “I guess.”

  “So you have it bad for Slater Ross,” she says.

  “I never said that.”

  “You don’t need to.”

  “I barely know him.”

  “But you’d like to get to know him better?”

  “Yeah, why not?”

  “Is he a Christian?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Maybe you should find out.”

  I reaffix my Sunday smile to my face. “Maybe I will. We’re going to have coffee during my break tomorrow.”

  “You don’t even drink coffee.”

  I smile again. “I do now.”

  Then she tosses a wadded-up paper towel at me and just groans as though I’m making the worst mistake of my life.

  “Simi,” I say, trying to be honest and sincere. “I’m not saying I have all the answers here, but I just don’t see how it’s wrong to spend time with someone who doesn’t happen to be saved. I mean, how are people ever going to get saved if we’re always pushing them away?”

  “Now, are we talking about dating evangelism?” she asks with one arched brow.

  “I don’t know.” I throw up my hands. “Do we have to label everything?”

  She shrugs. “Maybe not.”

  Then Jan returns from her dinner break, and a few more customers start trickling in. To my relief, the next two hours pass a little more quickly. Jan teaches us how to shut down and clean out the equipment, and suddenly it’s quitting time.

  “You girls did a good job tonight,” she says. “How about if you both come again tomorrow, and then I’ll make up a schedule?”

  The three of us walk outside together, and I can’t help but wonder if there isn’t this smell of sugar wafting all around us. I’m surprised that the security guard doesn’t actually stop and sniff as we pass by.

  Later that night, as I’m doing homework on the computer, I get an instant message from Claire.

  sorry i waz mess today. u ok?

  Curious as to what this is about, I write back.

  what do u mean? how r u a mess?

  drank 2 much. got sik. not there 4 u.

  that’s ok. how r u row?

  feel like crud. maybe i drink 2 much. ya think?

  Okay, I’m not sure how to react to this. It’s the first time I’ve ever heard her question herself. Usually she’s just defensive. I don’t know what to say.

  what do u think?

  don’t krow. but tired of letting people down. don’t wanna be a loser. u know? all my friends say i let them down. everyone says i drink 2 much. what do u think?

  Okay, this seems like an opportunity here, but I’m just not sure what to say. I mean, it’s not like I’m a counselor or anything.

  maybe u should talk 2 professional?

  a shrink?

  don’t know. but i read about alcohol online and found some scary stuff

  are u preaching 2 me?

  no! just care about u. concerned 4 ur health. u know?

  yeah, maybe ur rite. maybe i do need help.

  can’t hurt 2 talk 2 someone. my church has counselor. she’s free and pretty nice. no one would know.

 
i’ll think about it. thx. u r good friend.

  take care of urself. ok?

  ok

  Now, I know this is just a small thing, but I’m thinking, See, God might be at work here. Who knows?

  ten

  I GUESS I SHOULD BE THANKFUL THAT MY BREAK IS ONLY TWENTY MINUTES long, because on Wednesday night, the following night, there are these long awkward silences between Slater and me.

  “How was track practice?” I ask, struggling to find something—anything—to get this conversation going.

  “Hard.”

  “Are you looking forward to Friday’s meet?”

  “Not really.”

  Okay, I’m thinking, help me out here, Slater.

  “How’s work going?” he asks.

  “Boring.”

  He smiles. “Yeah, it seems a little slow in there.”

  “Jan says it’s better on weekends.”

  “You have to work on weekends?”

  I nod. “But at least the store closes early, so my evenings are free.” Okay, now, does that sound like a hint or what? How stupid can I be anyway?

  “What about Friday?” he asks.

  I swallow the sip of bitter coffee and wonder if I’ll get used to this stuff. “Friday?” I echo, wondering if maybe he really is asking me out.

  “Yeah, you said you might come to the meet. Are you still going to do that?”

  I nod, remembering how I said I wanted to see him run. “I’ll have to check the schedule and see.”

  He smiles and looks at his watch.

  “Yeah,” I say. “I think my break is just about up.”

  He walks me back to The Caramel Corn Shoppe, and I feel certain that this, our first “date,” is a total failure.

  “See you,” he says.

  “Thanks for the coffee,” I say, feeling lamer than ever. I mean, what is wrong with me that I can’t carry on a more interesting conversation? It’s like I’m socially constipated. Is that possible?

  Fortunately, Jan is there and Simi is keeping up the appearance of being busy and doesn’t have a chance to quiz me about my little coffee date. But when Jan takes her break, Simi comes at me full force.

  “Don’t worry,” I finally tell her. “I was so totally boring that I’m absolutely certain he will never ask me out again. In fact, I’m sure he was hugely relieved that he’d only asked me out for coffee and that I only had twenty minutes. I mean, what if it had been a whole evening? What a disaster.”