Heartbreak Café

by A. R. Perry

  I kind of miss it. And with college looming we may be running out of time.

  With a dramatic sigh I give in. She lets out this high-pitched squeal and claps her hands together, which reminds me way too much of the peppy girls on the cheer squad. I swear sometimes I think I’m older than her.

  “Okay. Shower and then we’ll head out. Maybe get coffee and a pastry on the way?”

  Yeah, because there is no place I’d rather be than where I work on my day off.

  “Sure, Mom,” I say because I haven’t seen her smile like this in a long time.

  “We should stop by the beauty store and get a funky color for your hair.” My mom rakes her fingers through my curls as I prop open the door to the café for her.

  “Yeah, I don’t think that would go over well with Mr. Lee.”

  She juts her lower lip out in a dramatic pout. “I’ll have a talk with him. You should be having fun while you’re young, before you have an office job.”

  “Don’t you dare.” I point a finger at her, which only makes her laugh.

  I never got around to telling her about the whole write-up. For the first time since starting, I’m not Mr. Lee’s favorite.

  “Hey, Stell,” Joe calls from behind the counter.

  I offer him a weak smile. What I really want to do is give him the finger. Joe is deep into his thirties. You would think he would act more mature, but no, I’m the one always having to pick up his slack. And since Melody seems to love him with what leans more toward a crush, I’m always given the shaft.

  “Hey, Joe.” My mom smiles before the pastry counter catches her eye. “Got anything good today?”

  “Oh! We just got this new…”

  I let his words trail off as he yammers on. I’ve always thought he might have the hots for my mom. Judging by how he’s leaning across the counter and touching her arm, I might be right.

  Deep breath. No murderous thoughts.

  My eyes roam the store as Joe goes on about pastries. I don’t want to overhear any flirty banter. It might tempt me to pour hot coffee over his head. Besides, Mom knows what I order. I’m not needed for this whole operation beyond my employee discount.

  As I take in all the things Joe has managed to not get done during his shift, my eyes land on a couple in the back corner. Their heads are bent forward, but it doesn’t seem loving. Fingers are pointing. Hands are flying around. Kind of looks as if they’re seconds away from throwing punches.

  So tacky to do in public. But not uncommon here.

  I’m about to turn away when the girl shifts her face away from the boy and flicks her brown hair over her shoulder.

  What. The. Hell?

  Michelle stands with Braden not far behind. She props her hands on her hips and says something to make Braden frown, his lips stretching into such a tight line they go white.

  She laughs and shakes her head before heading for the door, leaving him staring after her. He lifts his baseball hat to run a rough hand through his hair before tipping his face to the ceiling. Even from where I’m standing, I can feel his tension. It radiates off him in waves, leaving me unsettled. The friendly part of me wants to go to him, but a larger part reminds me of the kiss last night. In the end I remain planted by the counter, watching his obvious struggle with whatever went down with that bitch Michelle.

  Can’t she leave him alone? She told her friends she was over him so why is she up his ass every chance she gets?

  When he straightens with an exhale that puffs out his cheeks, his gaze lands on me. His eyes widen with recognition before his neck flames red.

  For a second I think he might come over, but instead, he turns and rushes out the front door.

  The whole thing leaves me with a lump in my stomach.

  I should have gone over there and asked what happened.

  “Who was that?”

  I jump at the sound of my mom’s voice. When I turn around, she’s holding two coffee cups and a brown bag of what I assume are pastries.

  “My lab partner.” I’ve never been a great liar, so I go with the truth. He is my lab partner. All she needs to know. Not that I also tutor him. Or that his eyes sparkle when he laughs. Or how we had a super weird moment in the kitchen last night that made me question the whole no dating rule.

  “He left in a rush.”

  I shrug. “Probably had somewhere to be. Like us.” I take my coffee and give her the brightest smile I can fake.

  It seems to placate her because she grins and nudges me with her elbow. “Let’s go see how much we can get for those clothes. Maybe update your Addams Family wardrobe a little.”

  Rolling my eyes, I motion for the door. I knew I would end up regretting this. I swear if she makes me buy another floral monstrosity, I’ll run right into traffic.

  We decide to walk since the thrift store is only a few blocks away. It gives us time to snack on the maple scones my mom bought and also helps to burn some of her pent-up energy. She’s a freak of nature if you ask me.

  She chatters at my side. I try to pay attention, but my mind keeps going back to the expression on Braden’s face. He looked destroyed. Beyond destroyed. In the time I spent with him, even when his mother was in the hospital, I don’t think I’ve ever seen that look on his face.

  “Did you hear me?” my mom asks in an aggravated tone that tells me she already knows the answer.

  So I don’t even try to lie. “Sorry. No. Not awake yet.” Okay, I lie a little.

  She doesn’t miss a beat. “Well, drink up because we have a whole day of fun ahead of us!” She jumps in front of me, her eyes bright with excitement. “Oh! We should get a manicure. I saw a deal on Groupon.”

  “We don’t have money for that.”

  Waving away my statement, she takes a drink of her coffee. “It’s fine. We’re in the in-between weather stage where we’re not using the heater or the air conditioner so we have a little wiggle room.”

  “Then we should save money for when winter dumps on us.”

  “Stop being a joy killer.” She levels me with her best mom look. “We don’t do this often. Let’s enjoy the day. Besides—” her gaze drops to my hand. “The whole chipped black nail polish is getting tired.”

  With a snort I hold the door to the thrift store open and usher her in. I might cave on the clothes, but no one touches my nail polish. I’ve been rocking this color since junior high when I went through a weird punk phase. Even after I grew out of it, I kept the nail polish as a little reminder. It’s dumb, but it helps remind me that we can hold on to little parts of ourselves even when everything else changes.

  “Ohhh, look at this!” My mom pounces on the first rack in the junior’s section. To my horror she comes out with a neon pink dress.

  That shit better be for her.

  “This would be perfect for homecoming.”

  “Oh, are you planning to attend?” My fingers slide over a gorgeous black leather jacket with silver studs.

  This would look amazing with a pair of ripped jeans and my purple Chucks.

  “For you,” my mother’s nasally whine interrupts the love affair I was having with the jacket.

  It’s for the best, the thing most likely costs an arm and a leg. My fingers find the tag. Yup. Hundred bucks. It’s a steal, but still way too far out of my price range.

  “I’m not going to homecoming,” I mumble as I round a shelf with some of the ugliest shoes I’ve ever seen.

  “Why not?” My mom follows me, cradling the pink monstrosity.

  “Not interested. No date. Would rather jump into a freezing cold lake in the middle of January. You pick.”

  “Stella.”

  I freeze in place at her tone. Why can’t she drop it? Why can’t we have a good freaking day without a heart-to-heart? I love her to death, but we’ve had enough of those over the past two years to last a lifetime.

  Her petite hand comes down on my shoulder. “You can go out, you know.” I slide a glance her way before pretending to be interested in a pa
ir of army green joggers. “Just because we agreed boyfriends aren’t the best idea after…well after what happened, doesn’t mean you can’t have fun. Responsible fun.”

  Oh God. If I never have to hear the term responsible fun ever again…I get it. I screwed up, and it almost ruined everything. I was young and thought I was in love. If anyone should understand it should be my mom. Hello. For crying out loud she had a baby at nineteen with a man who all but told her he wasn’t the daddy type.

  Sure, he stuck around long enough to cut the umbilical cord. Guess we should thank him for that or some shit.

  “Don’t look at me like that,” she snaps, still holding on to the damn dress. It’s not happening. “I think with my experience I know a little about the dos and don’ts of boys and high school. And after everything freshman year, I would think you know better.” She hangs up the dress with a huff. “But maybe I’m wrong. Maybe you want to go back to being the school slut.”

  Ouch.

  This seems a little out of left field.

  “Or maybe you prefer to spend your nights crying your eyes out. That was a fun four months. You’re just lucky that people forgot about it over the summer.”

  “What’s going on?” I ask, because this isn’t at all like my mom.

  “Nothing, I just don’t like being reminded of it.” She pulls out a top. It’s black-and-white checkered and totally my style. “Here, try this one on.”

  I don’t take the top. Something isn’t right. “Who brought it up, Mom?”

  “It’s nothing, Stella. It’s been taken care of.” Her brown eyes find me for a second before focusing on the rack of clothes. “Just cool it with the study sessions.”

  Now I’m lost. “Huh?”

  “You and that boy.”

  My heart stops. It literally stops. “Braden?”

  “If that’s the boy’s name.

  “I’m tutoring him.” The words fly out of my mouth before I can stop them.

  My mom turns an accusatory glare at me. “I thought he was your lab partner.”

  Okay, I guess it’s full truth time. “He is. But I also got roped into tutoring. I told you about it after Zari talked me into it. It looks good to colleges.”

  Her eyes light for a second, then narrow. “So tutoring requires you to wear his clothes and hang out with him in abandoned parking lots? And it definitely requires you to go to dinner with him.”

  What, does she have surveillance on me?

  “Who told you all this?”

  “It doesn’t matter! I don’t want you to see him again. End of story.”

  My mouth hangs open. I don’t think my mom has ever used the end of story bit on me before. “There is no one to replace me as his tutor.”

  “That sucks for him. You don’t have time to waste on someone who can’t keep up with their own schoolwork. I ran into Principal Sawyer at the post office and he informed me that your grades are slipping and that you’ve missed several classes. All this started with that boy and it needs to end.”

  Wow. She really does have surveillance. Too bad she doesn’t have all the info and is pointing fingers at the wrong person. But seeing as every eye in the store is focused on us and our Sunday morning soap opera, I let it drop. I’ve been wanting to get out of being his tutor anyway since the beginning. I guess I now have an excuse.

  Except that thought no longer brings me joy. Instead of feeling relieved, I have a knot in my stomach the size of Texas when I think about Braden struggling to pass his class.

  Dang it. When did that boy weasel his way past my tightly closed-off defenses?

  “Hey, slut,” Michelle greets me the second my foot touches inside the cafeteria Monday morning.

  So. Not. In. The. Mood.

  Yesterday with my mom did not get better. In fact, it got worse. She tightened her grip on me after the blowup and I ended up with a crap-ton of brightly colored nun clothes and a curfew.

  A curfew!

  I haven’t had one of those in…ever. I’ve never had one.

  I tug at the baby blue turtleneck that my mom laid out for me. Yeah. We’ve regressed to elementary. Wish someone told her that as a teenager, turtlenecks are more for covering up giant hickeys. Devon’s exact question when I walked up the steps this morning was, “Who did you let eat your neck?” He wasn’t even satisfied until I pulled the damn thing down and showed him every angle of my neck.

  “I’m talking to you,” Michelle snaps when I don’t respond. Her minions hang in the background, smug faces pointed in my direction.

  A crap-ton of scenarios flash through my head. So many things I want to say. Seeing as my mom wants me to lay low for the rest of senior year, I go with the one that will draw the least attention.

  “What can I help you with, Michelle?”

  Her eyes narrow. Apparently I didn’t do a good job of snuffing out my sarcasm. Oops.

  “You can stay away from my boyfriend. Like I already told you.”

  “I thought you were soooo done with him and his drama.”

  Okay, so I didn’t stick to the plan here. Poking the popular bear probably isn’t the best idea.

  “Maybe I changed my mind.”

  “Did he?”

  Her pouty lips pull down. Yeah. Didn’t think so.

  “Just stay away from him, slut.”

  I grit my teeth, gripping the strap of my backpack harder. She leans in, the overpowering scent of vanilla making me want to sneeze in her overly made-up face. “And if I ever hear about him coming out of your house again, I’ll make sure you end up in homeschool this time.”

  I suck in a surprised gasp as something ice-cold flows down my top. Michelle’s water bottle is tipped upside down between us spraying something red all down the front of me.

  Good thing I wore one of my mother’s monstrosities today.

  My narrowed eyes dart to Janelle who smiles. What a bitch. I take in all three of the bullies standing in front of me. Why do people like them again? I swear they are the spawns of Satan.

  “Great talk!” Michelle calls as she saunters toward her table.

  I catch a few people staring. Whispering. My eyes sting as I turn right and head straight for the door to the quad. I’m no longer hungry.

  I regret ever feeling bad for her when she got her ass dumped. For a moment we were kindred spirits. Sure, nothing nearly as bad happened to her, but still. Jesse and Braden were the same person in my mind. The same self-centered, egotistical, man-whore who made very public displays of their breakups.

  Tears pool in my eyes threatening to spill over so I rub at them with such intensity stars flash in my vision for a second. I will not cry at school. What makes rumors and bullying worse? Letting people know they got to you. Never again.

  Someone calls my name, but I keep walking. I’ve already passed the tree I spend lunch under. Without even thinking about it, I’ve aligned myself with the back fence. Yup. Ditching is in order. Sure, the principal might call up my mom again, but as long as Braden’s ass is in his seat, it won’t matter much.

  “Stella!”

  Against my better judgment, I stop and spin toward the noise.

  Shit.

  Braden stalks toward me, his face a mask of…well…of rage. The same look he wore on Sunday.

  “Where are you going?” he snaps the moment he’s close enough he doesn’t have to shout.

  “What does it matter to you?”

  He makes a strange groaning noise in the back of his throat as he runs a hand through his hair, messing up the perfect do he had going on.

  “Why was Michelle talking to you?”

  “Who?” I try not to laugh, but it slips out, only pissing off Braden more. Does he not realize we did the whole who, what, where, why thing? All we were missing is the when.

  “Michelle,” he all but growls through clenched teeth. “Why was she talking to you?”

  “Oh. She was telling me all about her weekend and how much fun she had. Then we like totally got into a discussion ab
out what she’s wearing to homecoming.”

  Okay. That was meant to make him laugh, but he’s not laughing. In fact, he still looks pissed.

  “Stella.”

  “Does it matter, Braden?” I let out an aggravated puff of air and watch it turn to mist.

  “Yeah. It does.”

  “I gotta go.” I jab my thumb over my shoulder as I take a step backward. We’ve been talking for too long and all I need is for Queen Bitch to walk by or for one of her lackeys to report back.

  “Fine. I’ll see you in bio.”

  “Not gonna make it today.” I turn away from his hardening expression.

  “Okay, after school.”

  “Work,” I call as I hasten my pace.

  “You can’t avoid me, Stella. Don’t forget you’re all mine twice a week.” An odd shiver runs up my spine at his words. At the thought of him wanting me to himself.

  Too bad that’s all coming to an end. My mom plans on talking to Mrs. Rivera this week if I don’t. Braden will be on his own and once again, my stomach twists into knots at the thought.

  I hate myself for caring.

  “I’m so tired.” I slump on the counter as Zari mops up the giant mess I just made on the floor.

  Since walking out of school I’ve been so frazzled. I’ve messed up three drink orders, spilled half a jug of milk and gave away a muffin for free when I forgot to ring it up. If I don’t collect myself, Shredder will take notice. I already had to pay for the muffin myself. I don’t need another write-up.

  “So make your death drink.” Zari sloshes the nasty bucket of water as she rolls it to the side of the counter.

  Caffeine may not be my friend right now. I’m jittery enough as is.

  “No.” I straighten and rub my hands down my wet apron. Guess laundry is in my future tonight. “My mom’s been on me to cut back,” the lie comes out so easily I almost convince myself.

  Zari nods as she wipes up the counter.

  “Tell me about your classes.” If I distract myself, I’ll stop thinking about the way Braden looked at me when I ran away from him. Again.