The Queen of Bright and Shiny Things

Somehow Shane manages to dodge me the rest of the day. I never see him at our locker, though his stuff comes and goes, which makes me feel marginally better. Each time I open it, I expect to find all of his things gone, which is so stupid. What does it matter if he takes his junk for good? It’s a locker, not our family home. I sleepwalk through my classes.

Now he’s sitting one row over in math, but he hasn’t looked at me. I might as well not be in the room. Shane’s back to silent, invisible mode, not even making eye contact. But I do get a happy surprise when I take a surprise math quiz and I know a good portion of the answers.

Today I avoid the cafeteria. I pick a random locker and leave a generic message on it. This is the first time I’ve phoned it in like this. After grabbing my lunch bag, I head out back. The halls are grungier back toward the shop departments, and the alarm doesn’t sound when I slip outside. A few guys eye me but nobody says anything. This isn’t a group known for talking. Instead they silently pass around a hand-rolled MJ while a kid in a beanie lazily stands watch. I guess somebody would eat the thing if teachers ever came back here.

I park it nearby and pretend to eat my lunch. It’s cold as hell and I’m not hungry. I’m counting heartbeats like I did in therapy, as it’s supposed to help me stay calm. Right now I want nothing more than to cry or scream, but that would alarm my new not-friends. I’m silent, like they are. Now and then, one of them tells an unfunny joke, and the rest laugh. I wait out the break while my hands and feet go numb. This day is endless.

Ryan looks better in chemistry, however, like he got a good night’s sleep and perversely, this upsets me. Since he claims to be in love with me, our situation should bother him for more than a week. Asshole, I think. But he doesn’t notice. He smiles at me.

“Hey,” he says, like nothing’s changed.

Everything has.

But I get to work. There are chemicals to mix in careful ratio, and Mr. Oscar seems delighted when I get the liquid to smoke and change colors, as intended. I’m supposed to learn something about bases and alkalis, I think, but it’s beyond me. I can’t believe I have to work today.

“Do you want to—” Ryan starts, but I’m already gone.

Shane’s nowhere to be found, and that hurts because I’ve gotten used to him showing up at most of my classes. I started counting on him … and I feel stupid because I should know better. I can’t even be mad at him because this is my fault. He told me before how much he hated it when I fix things for him, like he can’t do it himself, but I went ahead and did it again, so I can only blame myself that he’s bailed. Miserable, I put my assignments in my backpack and then head for the bike rack. I have a four-hour shift waiting for me, then homework.

Shane’s working at the P&K today, so I could swing by there if I wanted to stalk him, but I’ve already been there, done that. Instead I head to the Curly Q way early and start sweeping up the hair.

Mildred glares at me. “You know I’m not paying you extra.”

“It’s fine. “

She seems to sense it’s been a terrible day because she mutters, “Well, maybe this once. Clock in for three p.m. I can afford an hour since you’re here anyway.”


Eight dollars may not seem like a big deal, but my boss is pretty cheap. I must look worse than I imagined. Grace has a customer so she can’t do more than wave for the first hour; in the meantime, I tidy up the salon and examine the appointment book to get an idea of what the night will be like. Slow, it seems. There are two cuts on the schedule, one highlight, and that’s all. If there are no walk-ins, I’ll end up playing practice doll before the shift’s over.

The evening goes according to my predictions. Mildred leaves around six … and by seven, Grace has me in the chair. This is why I have twenty tiny braids in my hair, the other half loose, when the bell jingles. I glance up because it’s my job to greet customers … only this time, I freeze. Because it’s Shane.

I have a thousand questions. Isn’t he supposed to be at work now?

“I’m on my lunch break.” He’s a mind reader or something.

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