by Marissa Lete
“Oh! Yeah, do you want to see?” I reply. Two sets of footsteps walk towards each other. A paper shuffles between hands.
“Hmm.” Maverick’s voice is deep but soft. “Mr. Gleems! I had him last year. Old guy. That class is going to be a breeze. I slept through most of it and still got an A.”
“That’s good to know. I was actually worried about Biology,” I hear myself say. I remember being worried about Biology, and I remember Mr. Gleems having a surprisingly easy class. But I don’t remember Maverick telling me this.
“Ms. Harding is a good English teacher, but you can’t get away with sleeping in hers. Pay attention and you’ll be fine,” Maverick tells my past self. She was a good teacher but made me work for my A. “I don’t think I ever had the other teachers you have, so I’m gonna have to say good luck with those.”
I hear my own laughter, then, “Any recommendations for extracurriculars?”
“Anything you want, but definitely not softball. That’s what all the snobby, cool people do.” I can almost hear him making air quotations around the word “cool.”
“So are you implying that you’re not cool?” I hear my echo say.
He laughs. “Definitely cool. Not snobby.”
“Don’t worry, I can definitely tell by the skirt you’re wearing.” Was I… flirting?
“Excuse me, but this is, in fact, an apron, thank you very much.” More laughter.
“Oh, I see now. So you’re what, a waiter, or something?”
“Cook, actually. I work at Louis’s, a little diner off Main Street.”
“Is the food any good, then?”
“Only the best,” Maverick replies, that distinct tone of the smile I’d heard the night before still audible in his voice. “Come by some time and I’ll prove it.”
There’s a brief pause. Then my own voice, stumbling over words, “I’ll, uhh, have to do that then. Come by. The diner.” Even now, without remembering any of this, I feel a blush rising to my cheeks.
A soft chuckle comes from Maverick, followed by, “Sweet. I guess I should probably head to work now though, so I’ll see you around?”
“Definitely.” I hear my voice say.
Footsteps start to cross the street, towards the house with the yellow flowers. A few seconds later I hear the sound of my car door opening and closing, the engine cranking, and tires rolling out of the driveway.
I stand there in the present, my car sitting still cold in the driveway and my mouth hanging open. In my life, I’ve never even had the chance to think about boys at all, much less flirted with one. I have no recollection of this encounter, and I’m sure now that this is definitely not something I would forget about. Right?
I snap out of my thoughts as I hear Grace’s voice, loud, from the phone in my hand. I put it up to my ear, but have to pull it away as she yells, “Are you there?!”
“Yes, sorry, I… f-found something,” I stutter out as I quickly open my car door and pull out my backpack. I find a pile of papers and shuffle through them, shaking.
“I need to know, now!” Grace says, and I try to go faster, but as I do, half of the stack slides out of my hands onto the ground.
I kneel on the ground, moving papers around and searching frantically for Grace’s homework. The second I spot it, I lift the phone to my ear and say in a rush, “Yes, I have it, it’s right here, I’ll bring it, meet me in the parking lot. I gotta go, bye.” I hang up without letting her reply.
And then I’m there, on my knees beside the car with papers scattered around me, all alone, processing what I just heard. Maverick, again. No memory of it, again. I remember leaving extra early, but I don’t remember the conversation with Maverick. And it doesn’t make any sense.
✽✽✽✽✽
For the rest of the day, I’m on edge, making it hard for me to focus on my classes. I have no idea what to think of the strange events that have happened to me. The Suburban following me down the road, the encounters with Maverick I apparently had a year ago. It makes me wonder if they are connected. But how would they be? How can I be sure that the echoes of Maverick even actually happened?
Maybe something really is wrong with me.
But it can’t be true. I won’t admit that, not yet.
Then a thought strikes my mind: this morning, the echo of Maverick had mentioned working at Louise’s. The little diner on Main Street, about a mile away from St. Martin. I’ve never been there, but I’ve driven past it a few times. Maybe the workers would know about Maverick since he supposedly worked there?
I decide, then, that I need to go there. I need to find out for myself what is going on.
At lunch, Grace doesn’t take the news very well.
“You want to go where?” She asks with a look of disgust.
I hold her gaze firmly.
She blinks. “That place looks like a dumpster. It hasn’t had a new coat of paint since it was built—which was probably in 1905. Why in the world would you want to go there?”
I struggle to think of an answer. “I heard it’s good.” It sounds more like a question.
“From who?”
“My parents?” I bite my lip. I didn’t plan this out very well.
“So you’re telling me that you, Laura Jones, actually want to go out somewhere for once, and the one time you do you choose Louise’s Diner, of all the wonderful, delicious places we could have gone?”
I nod, biting my lip. Grace has begged me to go out and do things with her so many times. Half of them I come up with some excuse not to, and the other half I bail extra early. I didn’t know she’d been keeping track, though.
Grace shakes her head. “I don’t even know anyone who’s gone there! What if it’s terrible?”
“I’ve read some mixed reviews about that place, actually. But I’m down to try it out.” Leo chimes in.
Grace’s eyebrows scrunch upwards, giving me a look of desperation.
“Please go with us? For your best friends?”
She looks between me and Leo, then sighs. “Fine. But you owe me, okay?”
“Done.” I smile sympathetically. She rolls her eyes.
“If we get some kind of disease from this place, I demand that you do all of my homework for the next two weeks,” Leo says.
“Don’t say that! I just got Grace to agree to come!”
“It’s okay. If it looks super sketchy, I’m not even going to buy a drink,” she replies.
“It can’t be that bad,” I assure them both, though it doesn’t do much to assure myself.
✽✽✽✽✽
When we walk through the doors of Louise’s after school, the first thing I hear is a bustle of noise. Chatting, dishes clinking together, music playing in the background. The dull hum of a busy restaurant. The strange part, however, is that none of it is from today. Today, the place is empty except for us. It is, however, surprisingly clean. And even kind of cute, with its homey decor. The white linoleum floors are spotless, and every table is covered in a blue-checkered tablecloth and glass vase with plastic flowers in it. A sign at the entrance reads “Please Seat Yourself,” and Leo immediately sits down in one of the bar stools, taking in the menu.
Nothing about this place is familiar to me, meaning either I have never been here before or I’ve simply forgotten about that, too. I’m afraid that the latter might be the truth.
A short, older woman with the nametag “Penny” comes out of the kitchen as we take in the place, a smile on her face.
“How are you all doing today?” she asks cheerily.
“Pretty go—” I start to say but am cut off.
“Is this a legit jukebox? Like, from the ’50s?” Grace calls from the other side of the room.
“It sure is! Been here since the place opened.”
“Oh. My. Gosh.” she swoons, digging through her pockets for some change.
“What can I get you all to drink?” Penny asks us.
“Cherry Coke,” I say.
“Make that two,” Leo ad
ds.
“Three!” Grace walks back over, the jukebox starting up a tune behind her. The sound of it mixing with the echoes of the past would normally be a lot to listen to in a place like this, except that there isn’t much noise today. When Penny leaves to get our drinks, Grace says, “I immediately take back everything I said about this place earlier. It’s so cute!”
“I’m not sold yet. I’m going to have to try the food first, then make my judgment. Speaking of which… Grace, do you think you can cover me? I forgot my wallet.”
Grace groans. “Fine Leo, but it seems very convenient that you tell me that after you’ve ordered a drink.”
“It happened instinctually, I couldn’t help it. I’m sorry!”
We all laugh and then look down at the menu. It appears to be typical diner food—burgers, chicken, sandwiches, sides. When Penny comes to take our order, I choose a basic hamburger and fries, hoping that the quality of the food is as much of a surprise as the cleanliness of the restaurant.
“If they cleaned up the outside, they would have so much better business,” Grace comments, waving her arm at the empty room.
“You might have a point, but honestly if the food is good enough, people will come anyway,” Leo replies.
“Or maybe people care more about the fact that it looks like a dumpster from the outside,” Grace contends.
“I definitely value quality more than appearances,” Leo shoots back.
“And I value appearances. If the food is actually good, then I guess that will decide who wins this argument.”
As they are bantering, I notice the wall across from the jukebox is covered in a massive corkboard with various papers tacked to it. I can barely make out a block with the words “Employee of the Month,” in the upper right corner, and a photo hanging underneath. I stand up and walk over, hoping it will lead to the information I’m looking for.
My hope dissipates as I get closer. The photo for the Employee of the Month is of a middle-aged woman with dark hair, and the rest of the announcement is just a list of months with slots for employee’s names next to them. The names are only listed back to June, and the rest of the slots for the year are empty. None of them say Maverick or anything that could be close to the name.
I remember the echo I heard from the past, of Maverick telling us he was the cook here. Maybe he simply wasn’t ever an Employee of the Month? Maybe he doesn’t work here anymore—it has been a year since I supposedly met him.
I search the board for another minute, looking for any kind of helpful information, but all I see are lost pet announcements and newspaper clippings about things happening in Shorewick.
I return to the bar, where Grace and Leo’s debate has taken on a whole new subject.
“No one even sees your socks half of the time!” Grace exclaims. “Why does it even matter?”
“Because when you bought the socks, you bought two of them, not one. They were made to be worn together—you can’t just switch it up with different ones. It’s not stylish, it’s a sign of your inability to keep your socks together,” Leo rants.
“But some socks come in a pair with a sock that looks completely different. What about those?” Grace fires back.
“Those are a sin!”
“No, they’re not!” Grace says, and just then Penny comes through the door with a tray of plates in her hands, bringing the debate to a halt. When she places our food in front of us—burger and fries for me, club sandwich and chips for Leo, and a chicken sandwich with fries for Grace—we all dig in. The burger is decent, but nothing special. The fries are a little worse. Half of them are burnt or way too crunchy, and the other half are a bit soggy. Leo reaches for my fries to taste them.
After one bite, he nods his head. “Just as I thought, it’s not about the appearance. It’s the food. Mediocre at best.”
“I think the food is just fine,” Grace says. I notice, however, that she hasn’t touched her fries yet.
“Hard to screw up a chicken sandwich. The fries are the telltale,” Leo replies, tapping his finger on the table.
I laugh at their bickering, then push my plate over to Leo. “You can have the rest if you want. They are pretty bad.”
Then I remember Maverick’s voice.
“Is the food any good, then?” I had asked him.
“Only the best,” he’d replied.
If it was the best, then it definitely isn’t anymore. Maybe he was the only good cook? That would explain why it was so busy on this same day last year, but a ghost town today—they lost their best cook. But why wouldn’t his name have been on the Employee of the Month board? It had empty slots back to last October. There could be numerous explanations, but I decide the best way to find out is to ask.
When Grace and Leo are finished with their food, we all get up to leave, and I let Grace pay for their food first. When they finish, I toss her my keys. “Go ahead and start the car, I’ll meet you out there.”
Grace doesn’t bat an eye when she takes the keys and walks out the door. Leo follows, too.
Penny smiles at me. “That’ll be eight twenty-three, darling.”
I smile back, pulling out my money to hand to her. I try to come up with a discreet way to get the information I want, but all I end up saying is, “Is there someone named Maverick who works here? Or used to work here?”
Penny focuses on counting out my change before she answers. “Not that I can remember. Mostly just Tony and me working these days.” She jabs a thumb towards the kitchen. I see an older man in the back through the little window she’s pointing at.
I think, quick, trying to process the information. “How long have you been here?” I ask, hoping that maybe she’s new and that this Maverick guy worked here before her and that I’m not going crazy.
“Longer than you’ve been alive, hon. Tony and I bought this place thirty-seven years ago. We’ve had employees come and go, but I don’t think I’ve ever hired a fella named Maverick.” She hands me my change and my receipt.
“Oh, okay,” I respond, shooting her a smile. “Thanks anyway.”
“Thank you, sweetie.”
As I drive Grace and Leo home, I wonder how any of this makes sense. How can I be hearing myself talk to someone I’ve never met? How can this person exist at all, if there’s no evidence that he did? Perhaps it's possible that it did happen, that this Maverick guy was lying to me about working at Louise’s, and that my memory isn’t as good as I thought.
But maybe it’s not my memory screwing up. Maybe it’s my ability to hear the past. Maybe it’s less of an ability and more of an illness.
Chapter 5
“Hellooo, earth to Laura, are you in there?” Grace has a finger to my forehead, tapping rapidly across the lunch table.
My eyes snap into focus and I pull away with a jolt. “What are you doing?”
“We’ve been wondering the same thing about you,” Leo says from my left.
“Seriously, are you okay?” Grace puts her hand on my forehead. “You feel a little warm, are you sick? Is that why you’ve been acting so strange lately?”
“What do you mean, strange?” I snap, pushing her arm away a little too forcefully.
“That’s what I mean. These past few days you’ve bounced between Laura the snapping turtle, Laura full of paranoia, and the most annoying, Laura who’s on some other planet.”
“I’m fine,” I tell her. It’s a lie, of course, because it’s been two days since I heard myself talking to a stranger that morning, and though I’ve been trying hard to listen to all of the echoes from the past since then, there haven’t been any further conversations or clues that would hint to his existence.
“You were just zoned out, staring at the table for like five minutes straight. That doesn’t look fine to me,” Grace replies.
I sigh. “It’s just…” I trail off, pretty sure saying “I think I’m going crazy because I’ve been hearing things I’m pretty sure never happened and I’m also pretty sure someone is following me
” is not the correct plan of action.
“Oooh, is it that time of the month?” Grace gives me a sympathetic look.
It’s not, but it’s a good enough excuse, so I roll with it. “Is it really that obvious?”
“Kind of,” she gives me a small smile. “Do you need an aspirin or anything?”
“I’m fine. I just need some rest, I guess.”
“Well, you’d better rest up. Because we need to get into serious planning mode this weekend. The Halloween dance is coming up soon, and neither of you are skipping out on me for this one.” Grace looks between me and Leo, ensuring that we’ve heard her statement.
Leo responds first, hands up in defense, “You know I’m always down to party. The only reason I missed the last one was because of that scheduling conflict with the SAT. But this time I’m clear. Promise.”
Grace shifts her gaze to me. “That’s the kind of attitude I want to hear.”
I sigh. Parties, dances, or any kind of place that involves loud music and lots of noise are not my kind of thing. Going out, in general, isn’t my kind of thing. I usually prefer to spend my free time somewhere quiet. “I don’t know, I don’t think I’ll be going.”
“No, no, no! You’re not getting out of this one,” Grace presses. “It’s our senior year, and since you moved here you’ve never come with us to a single dance or party. You’ve got to do it just once. And Halloween is the perfect time because no one even has to know it's you!”
“But—” I try to protest, even though I know it’s probably futile.
“No buts! I already paid for your ticket.”
“How much was it? I’ll pay you back.”
“Come on! Laura, please.”
“Please?” Leo chimes in. They both give me a puppy dog look.
I look between them, contemplating. I want to go out and enjoy a night with my friends. I want to be a normal teenager and do normal teenager things. And even though I’d much rather be sitting in the office in peaceful silence, I realize that I should try it, at least once. And anyway, I can just leave if it’s too much to deal with.
I take a deep breath, knowing I won’t be able to take back my decision once I say it. “Fine.”
