Cooley reached behind the counter and picked up two soda glasses. “You,” he said, pointing at me with one beefy finger. “Feel these with soda for Cooley.”
“Feel these with . . .”
“He means fill,” Noah whispered.
“Oh, okay.” I grabbed the two cups, put one under the Sprite, one under the Coke, held them there until they were full, and then put them on the counter. I thought about adding, “have a nice day” or “would you like fries with that?” to, like, be impressive and show him I was thinking ahead, but before I could, Cooley said, “You’re hired. You start Wednesday, six a.m.”
It was that easy.
Of course my mom was thrilled. She was, like, almost hyperventilating and kept beaming and telling me how amazing it was and how proud she was of me, and then she made me check my alarm clock five times since she was going to be at work when I left. And even though it was totally over-the-top, typical mother behavior, it actually made me feel kind of good.
But now, sitting next to Noah in the car and nibbling on my carrot muffin, I’m starting to get a little bit anxious. I try to calm myself down, but Cooley’s isn’t that far away, so by the time Noah pulls in a couple of minutes later, my stomach is still flipping all around.
“How do I look?” I ask him, smoothing down the khaki shorts and white Cooley’s T-shirt we have to wear.
“Like you’re going to have a great day,” he says. It’s super cheesy and he knows it, but it makes me feel better.
“What if I screw up?” I say. “Does anyone ever get fired from Cooley’s?”
“Hannah,” Noah says, turning off the car. “You’re going to be fine.”
“How do you know?”
“Because you passed the two-cup test.”
“The two-cup test?” I ask, pulling down the visor and smoothing my hair down in the mirror. I really should have gotten up earlier and put on makeup or something. How am I supposed to get good tips if I look like a mess?
“Yeah, in your interview? When Cooley asked you to get those two sodas?”
“That was a test?”
“Yeah,” he says. “If you fill the two glasses at the same time, you pass. If you fill them separately, you fail. It’s like an efficiency exam.”
“I had no idea,” I say. “Why didn’t you warn me about that?”
Noah grins. “I had to make you earn it at least a little bit.”
“Thanks,” I say and roll my eyes. “How nice of you to make me earn a job I didn’t want in the first place.”
“If you didn’t know it was a test,” Noah asks, “then why did you think you were hired?”
“I thought Cooley was just crazy.” I want to ask Noah if Cooley’s maybe a drug lord, but somehow that doesn’t seem appropriate. I swallow a big sip of coffee, take a deep breath, and then smooth my hair one more time.
“Hannah,” Noah says, reaching out and squeezing my shoulder. “You’re going to be fine, seriously. Come on, you can hang with me for the first half hour, and I’ll show you around.” He unbuckles his seatbelt and steps out of the car, and a second later, I follow him.
But as soon as we get inside, Lacey pops up from behind the counter, seemingly out of nowhere, then grabs my arm and pulls me into the bathroom, leaving Noah standing by the door, holding the bag of muffins and looking confused.
“What are you doing?” I ask. “Why are we—”
“Shhhh!” Lacey hisses. She pushes the bathroom door shut behind us, locks it, and then leans against it and presses her arms out to the side, like she’s afraid someone might follow us in. “Did you see that girl out there?” she asks.
“No.”
“You didn’t?”
“No. You didn’t give me a chance before you grabbed my arm and almost wrenched it out of its socket.” I rub my shoulder, which is all sore from her pulling on it.
“Sorry,” she says, looking sheepish. “But there’s a girl out there, a very horrible girl.” She wrinkles up her nose. “Her name’s Danielle, and she used to be my best friend, until she had sex with my boyfriend behind my back.”
“Ouch,” I say. At least Sebastian had the decency to hook up with some girl I didn’t know. Imagine if he’d hooked up with Ava? That would have been a huge disaster, much more so than him hooking up with some random sophomore with toned arms. Also, I’m kind of relieved that this has nothing to do with the spot behind Lacey’s ear. I am so much better at helping with relationship drama than I am with dermatalogolical conditions.
“I know,” she says. She studies her reflection in the mirror over the sink, which is super streaky. Someone really should clean in here. Hopefully that’s not the new person’s job. Not to sound snobby, but cleaning toilets on my summer vacation might be enough to really make me lose it. “So, anyway,” Lacey says, whirling around, “you have to wait on her.”
“Who?”
“Danielle!” Lacey says, throwing her hands up in exasperation.
“Me?”
“Yes, you.”
“But I don’t know what I’m doing!” I just got here five seconds ago for God’s sake! I haven’t even had time to . . . I don’t know, whatever it is people do when they first get to work. Drink coffee, catch up on coworker gossip, ease into things.
“It’s not that hard,” Lacey says. She spins me around, puts her hands on my back, and starts pushing me toward the door. “Just go and write down what she wants, then take the ticket and stick it on the counter in the back, so Noah can make it.”
“But—”
“Please,” she says, her green eyes pleading. “I can’t go out there and face her! It might give me an anxiety attack, and I’m out of Xanax.”
Ugh. “Fine,” I say, sighing. “Whatever.” How hard can it be? Take the girl’s order, and give it to Noah to cook. Easy peasy, right? Lacey grins at me and hands me her order pad and a pen. I walk out of the bathroom and over to a table in the far corner of the diner, where a small blond girl is sitting. She’s wearing wire-rimmed glasses, and her hair is all messy. Traces of last night’s mascara are smudging her eyes. “Um, hello,” I say. “Welcome to Cooley’s Diner. My name is Hannah, may I please take your order?”
“I seriously doubt it,” she says, and looks me up and down in a really snotty way. “Where’s Lacey?”
“Lacey? Um . . . Lacey’s in the back, working on something.” A lie, but not really. I mean, Lacey is working on something—not coming out here and having to face Danielle.
“I want Lacey,” Danielle says, folding her hands on her menu and looking up at me expectantly.
“Yes, well, I’m Hannah and I’ll be happy to wait on you.” I poise my pen over my pad and give her my best smile. “Can I recommend the home fries? They’re our specialty.” I have no idea if that’s even true, but I have to say something. And home fries seem like a good bet. Diners are always known for their home fries, aren’t they?
“No,” she says, then closes her menu. “Lacey.”
Okay. Apparently now she’s not even talking in complete sentences. I contemplate going into the back and telling Lacey she has to come out here and wait on this girl. But then I glance over my shoulder and see Lacey peering out from the bathroom door, her eyes looking serious and scared. Then I remember what she said about having an anxiety attack, and how she freaked out over that tiny little mosquito bite/mole/freckle/whatever-the-hell-it-was behind her ear. Who knows what will happen if Danielle starts upsetting her? Lacey doesn’t seem like the type who should be out and about in the world without her Xanax.
So I turn back to Danielle and say, “Look, Lacey’s not available. So you can either order, or get out of here.” I pick up her menu, like I’m going to take it back behind the counter. “What’s it going to be?” Her jaw drops open, like she can’t believe I’m speaking to her like that. (Which, let’s face it, is kind of unbelievable, especially since it’s my first day. I don’t think Cooley wants me talking to the customers like that, even if he is a drug lord.)
/> Danielle recovers quickly, and then says simply, “I guess I’ll get out of here.” She stands up, picks up the glass of water that’s sitting in front of her, and then very slowly and deliberately pours it on the table. “Oops, sorry about that.” She smiles sweetly, then turns around and leaves, the bells on the door tinkling as she walks out.
“Where’s she going?” Lacey asks, running out of the bathroom. She slides into the booth Danielle just left and peers out into the parking lot.
“She’s leaving,” I say. “I guess she didn’t want to order without you. And she spilled a whole glass of water all over the table. On purpose.”
“That little brat!” Lacey says. “I knew it! You wouldn’t believe what she—”
“Hello!” a middle-aged man in the corner yells. “I’ve been waiting for someone to take my order for fifteen minutes.” Lacey rolls her eyes, then shoves a pad in my hands. “Take it away,” she says.
So much for training.
The day flies by even though Cooley has us all working a double, so by the time seven o’clock rolls around, I’m exhausted.
“You guys go ahead,” Noah says, wiping down one of the booths and then flinging the rag over his shoulder. “I’ll stay and close up.”
“Are you serious?” Lacey asks, shaking her long red hair down and collapsing into one of the booths. “You’re going to stay and clean up? By yourself?” She bites her lip. “That’s awesome, but are you sure?”
“Yeah,” he says. “You take Hannah home, okay?”
I think about protesting, about saying I can walk, but it’s twelve blocks and I’m exhausted. So as much as I don’t want to be the loser without a car who needs rides from people, it’s better than having to walk home in the heat.
We’re halfway to Lacey’s car when I realize that I don’t have my cell phone. “Forgot my phone,” I tell her. “Be right back.”
When I get back inside, Noah’s behind the counter, sitting in front of his laptop, a look of concentration on his face. He must be doing some ordering, or whatever it is restaurant people do on computers before they clean up for the night.
“Hey,” I say. “I think I left my cell in here somewhere. Have you seen it?” I’m down on my hands and knees now, looking behind the counter. But no phone.
“Let me go check the lost and found,” he says. “A lot of times, if there are keys or phones lying around, they end up back there.”
“Thanks,” I say gratefully, straightening up and plopping down in his chair. The laptop in front of me is open to a word document, and on the screen is a page of what looks like a script. It’s called “Midsummer.” “Scene One,” it says “Int. Car, At Night. Laura Watson, seventeen, sits in the passenger seat. She is beautiful but complicated, with a—”
The laptop screen snaps shut. “What are you doing?” Noah asks. He’s looking down at me with a scowl, his eyes dark and angry.
“Um, nothing,” I say, my face turning hot. “I just—”
“You just what?” Noah’s lips tighten into a line.
“Nothing,” I say. “I mean, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have looked at that. I mean, I didn’t look at it, I didn’t really see anything, it was just . . . um, did you find my phone?”
He slaps it into my hand.
“Thanks,” I say. But he doesn’t say anything back, so I rush out of the diner and back to Lacey’s car.
“Something really weird just happened,” I say to Lacey once I’m in the passenger seat. I pull my seat belt across my body and click it in. “So I went back in there to get my phone, right? And Noah was—”
“I’m about to do something bad,” Lacey says, cutting me off. She’s staring straight ahead, a look that’s somewhere between fear and excitement on her face, and her hands are tight around the steering wheel.
“You are?” I’m intrigued. Intrigued enough to forget about the whole weird interaction Noah and I just had. I mean, what’s a little fight over looking at someone’s computer when Lacey’s about to do something horrible?
“Yes.” She pulls the rearview mirror down and starts to fiddle with her hair. “I’m going to drive past Riker’s house before I go home.”
“Riker Strong?” I ask incredulously. “Why would you be driving by Riker’s—Ohmigod! Riker Strong is your ex-boyfriend? The one Danielle had sex with?” How did I not know this? Probably because once Riker and Ava broke up, we spent most of our time totally avoiding him. So it would make sense that I never really knew who he was dating next. Still, you’d think I would have heard something about it, or at least remember seeing him in the hall with Lacey or something. I wonder if she knows how obsessed he is with Ava. Hell, I wonder if Danielle knows. She probably wouldn’t be too pleased if she knew her boyfriend was still practically in love with someone else. Probably she’d do a lot worse than just spill a cup of water.
“Yeah,” she says. “Why?”
“He used to date my friend Ava.” I want to tell her that he stalked her after she broke up with him, but something tells me Lacey wouldn’t want to hear that. So all I say is, “Lacey, I don’t think that’s a good idea. To drive by his house, I mean.”
“Oh, come on,” she says. “Like you haven’t driven by Sebastian’s house?”
“Nope,” I say. “I prefer to barricade myself in my room and stay away from everyone.” I can’t help feeling a little bit smug about this. Maybe I’ve gained a few pounds and maybe I wasn’t the best about showering and maybe Ava had to tell Noah to keep an eye on me because she was afraid I was going to spike my Coke with arsenic, but besides spending a little too much time on his Facebook page, I never stalked Sebastian the way Lacey’s obviously done to Riker.
“Then how are you supposed to know if he’s hanging out with other girls?” Lacey seems confused.
“Lacey,” I say. “I saw him kissing another girl right in front of me. I’m kind of assuming that he’s hanging out with other girls.”
But as I say it, my voice starts to falter just a little bit. I’ve had a good day, a busy day, a day where I made a lot of money (one hundred and fifty dollars, which is not a lot of money to some people, but is definitely a lot of money to someone whose bank balance is two dollars and sixty-three cents, aka me) and felt like I was actually doing something instead of being completely unproductive and consuming my weight in ice cream. (Which, let’s be honest, was only going to get harder and harder as my weight went up.) But now the day is over and all I have to look forward to is going home, lying in bed, and watching DVDs . . . And then I have to get up early again tomorrow and go work at my shitty diner job, doing the whole thing over and over, every day, for the rest of the summer. Pathetic.
“Well, I’m driving by Riker’s,” Lacey says. She starts the car up, then glances at me out of the corner of her eye, like she’s giving me one more chance to stop her. But I don’t have the energy. “Do you want to come?” she asks. “Or should I drop you off at home first? Either way is fine, I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable by having to go on my stalker mission with me.”
I hesitate for a second, but then I say, “Okay, I’ll come.” I take a deep breath. “But, um, can we drive by Sebastian’s house too?”
Lacey smiles.
We go to Sebastian’s house first, because his house is closer. Riker actually lives right around the block from me, and when Lacey finds this out, she almost has an orgasm. “This is perfect!” she screams. “I can pretend I’m hanging out at your house and then we can go for walks around the block or something. He’s always outside, he likes to work on cars and play basketball in his driveway.”
I don’t even tell her it’s pretty rude for her to imply that she would use me for my geographical desirability, and I definitely don’t tell her that if Riker sees us walking by his house twelve times a day it’s probably going to seem a little suspicious, and/or cause him to get a restraining order. But she must be reading my mind, because she quickly adds, “Not that I would use you for your house. And not that I wou
ld make it obvious or anything.”
“Oh, totally,” I say, mostly because she seems really excited, and I don’t want to be mean. Besides, if Riker did get stalked, it would serve him right for stalking Ava. Plus, we’re getting closer to Sebastian’s and I’m trying to brace myself for whatever I’m about to see.
“That’s his house,” I say, pointing at the white colonial with blue trim on the corner. Lacey slows the car down.
“Don’t slow down!” I yell. “What if he’s outside or something?”
“Just duck down,” she instructs me, like she’s done this a million times before. (Which she probably has.) Although, I don’t know how she can duck down while she’s driving. That definitely doesn’t seem all that safe.
I slouch down in the seat, peeking out the window. “There’s his truck,” I say, exhaling in relief. He’s home! Of course, him being home at seven o’clock on a weekday doesn’t mean that he isn’t going out later. But still.
I feel a squeeze in my chest. Sebastian kissed me for the first time in that truck. He was driving me home from school, and it was this really electric moment, where I was really hoping he was going to, but not knowing if he definitely was, and then, just when I thought he wasn’t, he leaned over and—
Wait a minute. Whose car is that?
“Whose car is that?” Lacey asks. “It’s super cute.” There’s a pink Jeep with the top down parked on the street, right in front of Sebastian’s house.
“I don’t know,” I say. A pink Jeep? Sebastian’s mom drives an Accord, and his older sister has a black Hyundai that she got as a graduation present a couple of years ago.
And then, when we get closer, I see the bumper sticker on the back of the Jeep. “Granbury High Sophomores Do It Better” it says.
Lacey must see it at the same time I do, because she speeds up and drives off. We sit in silence for a few seconds. “Maybe his mom got a new car,” Lacey finally says. “A lot of people have midlife crises and get pink Jeeps. I know this girl whose mom—”
“I saw the sticker,” I say. I look out the window, not saying anything.