THEO131Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ7xF0jEX2Ae
I’ve bounced from job to job each school year and summer.
My friends always give me shit for it; they laugh about how I’m constantly on the “grind”, running from practice to homework to actual work and over again, but I don’t really care. Unlike them, I really, really need the money.
I would prefer it if I didn’t have to completely depend on my parents for college. If I can pay for nearly all of the remaining tuition after my Lacrosse scholarship and loans, I could get away with controlling more of my future and not letting my dad have something against me… something hanging over me.
There’s a reason I’m going to school 2,674 miles away.
It’s warm today. I wipe my brow and grab a washcloth to the right of the sink, cranking the water on and dipping the fabric underneath to wet it.
There are a few benefits to working at Shake it Off Milkshakes. I get to avoid the Southern heat most of the time, since I’m always behind ice cream freezers and coiling my hands around cold tools.
As I’m wiping down the side of the blender, a voice emerges from my right.
“We’ve got a swarm of hot babes crossing the street.” Anthony leans against the counter next to me, crossing his arms and grinning. “You gonna put on the Garner charm as you serve ‘em up some shakes?”
“You say that like I have a habit of seducing female customers.” I scrub a particularly sticky part on the machine.
“I’m just hoping I can witness an attempt,” he jokes. “They look hot.”
“Then why don’t you go for it?” I tease him, glancing over to catch his amused snort.
“You think I should try?” he says. “You think their gaydar wouldn’t go off?”
“The fuck is a gaydar?” I mumble, tossing the washcloth into the sink again.
“Oh, what would you do without me, you uncultured straight boy?” Anthony sighs, approaching the register as the giggling girls enter the shop.
I smile and shake my head, moving to restock the straws.
I’ve gotta admit; Anthony may be the coolest guy I know. I’d much rather make milkshakes with him after school than go to those lame parties my teammates try to drag me to.
I was surprised when he told me he was gay. It was really casual for a seventeen year old living in the Georgia suburbs to admit. Plus, I’m apparently one of only two people who knows. So when he saw the surprised look on my face after he mentioned this, he just laughed and said he just had a feeling I’d be cool about it.
I asked him why he felt so confident in that assumption when he was talking to the 6’2 Lacrosse star Theodore Garner whose parents used to make go to Church on Sundays.
He answered, “because I think I know a different Theodore Garner than the Theodore Garner that those helmet heads know.”
And then I said that we are required to wear helmets. And he said that anytime he listened to the guys talk, he further believed that the helmets weren’t working. And I laughed at that, and we closed up shop for the night.
I hear Anthony serving the “swarm of hot babes” behind me as I’m lazily shoving compostable straws into the container at the end of the counter. When I glance back, I eye the group.
I recognize pretty much all of them from school. When you live in a place like Decatur, there’s only so many high school students, and they’re all from your second period math class.
But when my eyes flick across the group, they land on the girl checking her phone in the back of the huddle; the girl with brown hair tied up into a ponytail and freckles splattered across her cheeks.
I quickly jerk my head back to the straws and swallow, knowing that it’s stupid to hope that Sarah doesn’t look at me; she sees me in the halls all the time.
But underneath the girl at the register ordering six shakes, two strawberries and four vanillas, my mind makes up the whispers of Sarah’s friends as they eye me at the corner of the counter.
Clenching my jaw, I picture one of Sarah’s friends nudging her and pointing me out.
Is it stupid to still think they’re gossiping about me since that sophomore year party? I don’t even like Sarah anymore. But when a swam of girls heard a bunch of shit about you, including the one you were pining after, the thought pops up whenever you see her again.
It’s stupid.
It’s stupid, but I still hate it.
I continue shoving straws into the box, averting my eyes from them, as per usual. I hear the jingle of the shop’s doors in the background that signal new customers coming in.
“Thanks, Anthony,” Callie, the orderer at the front of the girls, chirps. “Hey, Taylor… why don’t you drop a tip for him? I think Anthony would like that.”
I absent-mindedly dart my eyes over to catch a blushing Taylor shoot a sharp look at Callie while her other friends are giggling again and nudging the pink-faced girl.
Anthony plasters on a polite smile and says, “it’s alright, I, uh… I’ll survive. You don’t have to bankrupt Taylor.”
The girls continue to giggle at that before giddily waving goodbye to him and moving to wait for their order.
I stifle a laugh and lean against the counter, staring amusedly at Anthony. He turns and runs his face over his hands, speaking through his fingers.
“Get me two strawberries and four vanillas with chocolate drizzle. And a noose.”
I grin. “What about a date with Taylor Simmons?”
“Fuck you,” he mumbles, turning back to the register for another incoming group, this one being a bigger huddle of guys and girls.
“I think I know what a gaydar is, now,” I whisper to him before they approach. “A broken one, at least.”
He flips me off behind his back just as he throws out a smiling, “hiya, fellas, what can I get you and your lady friends, here?”
I fix up the girls’ milkshakes by the back wall while Anthony waits for the new group to decide on their orders, letting my mind wander to the pile of homework I have to complete tonight, and the upcoming match on Sunday I’ll surely hear even more about from my dad at dinner.
By the time I’ve finished the shakes, the gang of guys and girls in front of Anthony are just walking up to the 131Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡAqTRqs3zdD
register to finally order. I’m not surprised, considering how big their group is. I can barely make out a couple of heads behind them waiting to take their turn next.
About halfway into the long sequence of milkshakes that Anthony is tapping into the screen in front of him, he turns to me approaching from behind.
“Hey, can you take over for the last few?” he asks. “You know, just typing them in and getting payment... I just thought I’d get a head start on the big order.”
“No problem,” I say, taking his position.
“Theo will take care of all of you- he’s a wizard behind the order screen,” Anthony grins at the swarm of friends. “Fingers like Mozart!”
“Ignore him,” I say as he slides off to work. “I see we’ve got four customized shakes on here so far… peanut butter fudge, S’mores Special… what else can I get for you guys?”
I finish off their orders and extend their receipt to the guy at the front, picking up the sound of Anthony rapidly cranking out the blended ice cream into the plastic cups, continuously sliding them down to the pickup counter as he hums along to the pop music playing overhead.
I bid the group a casual farewell as they slide off to the side, laughing and talking about whatever is happening in their routine little lives as (what I’m assuming are) college students. Maybe they go to school across the country. Or maybe they just attend the couple of local spots that were way, way, way too close to home for me.
I’m drumming my fingers on the counter when I hear the voice of the next customer that I haven’t glanced up to greet just yet.
“Oh.”
I lift my head… and immediately wish that I didn’t.
Noah Hart’s stone-faced expression greets me and soon becomes a reflection of mine.
Standing beside him is that friend of his who is always laughing with him in the hallways, Cassidy. She’s in my Law and Society class; he is not. She gives me a lot of looks.
Cassidy’s eyes have gone wide and she looks pale-faced as she rapidly flicks her gaze between a tense Noah and me. They clearly didn’t see me behind the giant group of customers before them. They clearly didn’t expect me to be the one to take their order at this milkshake shop.
But I’ve seen Cassidy here before… just once. I didn’t take her order, but I saw her, and she sure as hell saw me, and she grabbed her shake very quickly and left without looking back.
They’re standing a few feet from the register, having not stepped up yet… I now see why.
“Um…” is all she gets out, “...Noah… I’ll buy.”
“You didn’t tell me he workshere.” I can hear the sharp whisper Noah throws at Cassidy standing close to his side.
I look away, fidgeting with the tip jar and pretending I don’t hear Cassidy’s weak reply: “I thought he would’ve had practice after school-”
“Lacrosse doesn’t meet on Fridays,” he hisses.
“Sorry, I’m sorry, I-”
“You know I can hear you,” I say pointedly.
I can’t hide the glare on my face as both Noah and Cassidy perk up, looking at me. Noah still has eyes like daggers when they meet mine, and I sure am not flashing that trained-customer-service smile.
For some reason, while Noah is scowling at me, I’m thinking, funny how you know my sports schedule even when you hate me.
I see Noah look away and try to turn to leave, but Cassidy seems to push him back and whisper a lot of commands that include some that are just barely audible to me, impatient whispers of, “you’ll be fine” and “I want my milkshake”, which (after a strained minute), seems to get him to reluctantly turn back and move exactly two steps closer with a subtle look of disgust painted across his features.
“How can I… help you… today?” the words squeeze from my lips like they took Herculean strength. They certainly did.
He practically rolls his eyes at me. “If you’re gonna throw up in your mouth, just let me know.”
“I’m just trying to do my job.”
“Can you get someone else to do it?”
“Noah, please,” Cassidy huffs, then turns to me. “Can we just get a chocolate and vanilla shake?”
But I’m still looking at Noah when she says it and can’t hold back an irritated, “I’m the one at the register right now. I’m the one you’ll have to work with at the moment. Deepest apologies if that results in your dissatisfaction.”
“That would be a watered-down version of it, sure.” He crosses his arms.
“Chocolate,” Cassidy exhales, “and vanilla.”
I finally look at her after staring bitterly at Noah for what seems like a full hour, and sigh through my nose before jabbing my finger onto the screen. 1 chocolate, 1 vanilla.
Just before I look up to tell them their cost, I hear Noah whisper to her again.
“Maybe we can find another spot for next time?” is what he says under his breath.
I drop my hand to the counter, particularly hard, and look up at him with a biting stare. Just his voice is annoying me right now.
“I’m sorry this was such a difficult experience for you,” I seethe. “It’s not my first choice, either. Alright?”
He just continues to glare at me with a tightened jaw as Cassidy tiredly sticks her card out for me to take, and I gladly look away from him to plug it into the chip reader. After returning it to her, I can’t seem to hold my tongue when I catch his look of disgust again.
“I’d be happy to direct you to some other dessert spots in the area,” I say. “Very happy, actually. Anywhere other than here.”
“Can we just get our receipt?” he demands. “We don’t feel the need to be talking to you anymore. At all, really. You’re not… worth it.”
I try not to let him see the slight change in my expression; just the part in my lips and small lift of my eyebrows before I quickly turn away, trying not to think on his words as I tug the receipt out from the machine.
But when he pulls it from me, I can’t stop the memory of standing in that school bathroom three hours ago from flashing through my head, and it may be because he’s looking at me with the same look he had while I stood against the opposite wall, watching him with my friends.
I can’t dwell on that look any longer, though, because he and Cassidy are walking away, and I’m hearing Anthony’s voice instead now.
“Well, that was… weird,” he’s saying as he towels his hands. “Did he try to smother you one time, or…?”
“It doesn’t matter,” I interrupt. “Are you finished with the other order? Next one is a chocolate and a vanilla.”
He eyes me for a moment before slinging the towel over his shoulder and replying with, “yeah, almost done. I’ll hop to it.”
As he does so, I watch Noah and Cassidy talking quietly to one another by the far wall of the shop. While they do, I’m drumming my fingers on the counter… faster this time. 131Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡsXmYHf4G4S
●○●○●131Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡauHbExD970
I’m slouched over my Calc homework at my desk, the dim light of my lamp illuminating my frustrated eraser marks and pencil scratches as I try to drown out the distant sound of the TV from downstairs.
Dad is watching Fox News in living the room. Mom is quietly cleaning the dishes from tonight’s dinner. And me: I’m trying to focus on the math sprawled across the paper in front of me and not the work shift I had earlier.
The image of Sarah Midgley tapping through her phone at the back of that group of girls is fading from my brain. Instead, it’s being muffled by the bitter voice of Noah Hart; a voice I’d really not like to be dwelling on right now.
Or ever.
I huff and put my pencil down, shaking my head at nothing in particular out the window in front of me. What gives him the right to walk in and be an ass like that? I was just trying to do my job. He didn’t have to make it so difficult.
Whatever.
You’re not worth it.
If he just walked out of the bathroom, he would have avoided interacting with them. He could have avoided all of that, because he should know better; he should know their habits by now. I can’t stop them.
I can’t. At least, I don’t think I can.
I roll my eyes and press the heels of my palms to my eyes, rubbing and making spots splatter across my vision. Maybe then it will help clear out the jumbled mix of frustrating thoughts swirling around my head.
I hear my dad’s voice from downstairs through the crack in my bedroom door; there’s a subtle sting in his tone as he speaks to my mother about something.
I’m already frustrated enough at home. I don’t need Hart adding fuel to the fire.
My phone buzzes on my desk. I sigh and drop my hands back onto the table, idly glancing at the screen before picking it up and opening the message.
It’s from Gavin. There’s a picture attached: his open-mouthed grin is joined by two others on his sides, the selfie capturing three of my Lacrosse teammates laughing at the camera and clutching solo cups at the party whose invitation I brushed off two days ago.
Party pooper, the text below it reads.
I scoff under my breath and eye the photo for a moment longer before pushing the phone aside again and returning to my homework with a yawn.
A second later, another buzz.
The girls are asking about you lol
I can’t exactly explain why, but I don’t feel much looking at that. I sort of just stare at it blankly, my thumb hovering above the screen and my eyelids heavy.
Maybe it’s just because I’m tired of the party scene. Maybe it’s because I’ve got too much on my plate to worry about girls right now.
Either way, I mindlessly reply with a quick haha before grabbing my pencil, determined to finish the last problem on the paper so I can just go to bed and forget about everything.
A few minutes later, I’m interrupted by the sound of a knock on my door, prompting me to lift my head and turn to catch my dad stepping through the now-wider gap.
“You should head to bed soon,” he tells me. “You need the energy this weekend.”
Ever heard of a broken record, Greg? “I know. I am. I just had to finish an assignment.”
He nods. Then he looks around my room for a moment and turns back to me, hand still coiled around the doorknob when he speaks.
“You should really clean up this room,” he says. “Tomorrow.”
It’s not that messy.
“Your medal shouldn’t be hidden behind that laundry.” He motions to the hamper shoved against the wall, barely obscuring the silver award dangling on the hook he nailed into the paint for me to display the Eagle Scout medal.
“So you always know that you’re capable and dedicated to being a true man,” he told me after pulling the hammer away two years ago.
I now look away from the hamper and back at him. “Okay. Fine. I will.”
“Good,” he says, voice firm. And, without a hint of softness or comfort in his eye, he offers a brief, “goodnight”, and slips back down the hallway.
I twist in my chair back to my homework, twisting the pencil back and forth in between my thumb and index finger. Rolling my tongue along the inside of my cheek, I wonder if everything I do, even moving my laundry, must prove my “true” manhood.131Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡXAECizB6P7
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