by Carol Oates
I smiled pessimistically, knowing my acting skills weren’t up to much. He either didn’t notice or didn’t care.
“You’ll get a little extra in your paycheck for this.”
A whole evening around Caleb Wallace, and I was getting a bonus, too.
***
The next day I looked all over school for Chris. Of course on the day I actually wanted to see him, he couldn’t be found. Eventually, just before the last period before lunch, he strutted past me as I was going in the door to class.
“Hey there, gorgeous.” He smiled and winked at me, making a clicking noise with his tongue. He was so obnoxious.
The two guys with Chris, one walking on either side of him, leered at me with knowing smiles playing at their lips. I grimaced and clutched my books closer to my chest. I was wearing a turtleneck sweater for Pete’s sake. What were they gawking at?
“Actually, Chris, I need to talk to you about something if you have a minute?”
“Anything for you.” He winked again suggestively.
I raised an eyebrow at him quizzically, trying not to imagine what he was attempting to insinuate with that comment.
“I’ll catch up with you guys in class,” he finished, speaking toward his leering friends but not taking his eyes off me.
They moved on, thankfully, and Chris stood studying my face. I rubbed the side of my leg with one hand, still holding my books to my chest with the other. The crowds were moving from the hallway toward their respective classes. I was planning to keep this quick and hopefully painless—just like ripping a band aid off, I’d told myself. Unfortunately, now I was feeling a bit like a coward, and it wasn’t so easy.
“It’s about the formal…”
Chris’s eyes tightened; he suspected what I was about to say. Not that meat-headed after all.
“It’s just, well…” I continued in a muted voice trying to force the words out.
“You’re not going, are you?” he cut in, disbelieving.
I looked down, feigning regret, and then peeked up at him innocently from under my eyelashes. His expression was incredulous and furious at the same time.
“I can’t get the night off work,” I whispered.
“What?” he exclaimed loudly, his anger at me evident in his voice. “What kind of an excuse is that? It’s only a week away! What am I supposed to do now?”
I smiled guiltily. “I’m sorry, but I can’t lose my job, and you’ll get another date easily.”
“What, a week before the dance?” he shouted. “You’ll regret this.” There was an air of menace about his words. Chris leaned in toward me, backing me up against the door frame. This wasn’t going as well as I’d hoped.
“I wouldn’t do that, Baxter.” Ben’s voice boomed from behind us.
Damn, I didn’t want to cause trouble.
Chris glared back at Ben. “Or what?” he said with a sneer.
“Or you’ll have to deal with him and me.” Jonathan’s six-foot frame came out from behind Ben. Jonathan was sleek and brawny, and his athletic background showed in the sinewy muscles flexing in his coffee-colored forearms where his sleeves were rolled back.
Chris wasn’t about to fight with a teammate, but Jonathan would have no reservation in this particular scenario, where a guy was picking on a girl. Sensing defeat, Chris raised his hands with his palms forward and moved away.
“Okay, okay. She’s not worth it anyway,” he muttered.
Oh yeah? I thought to myself, you weren’t thinking that just a few minutes ago when it was just my younger brother. Even though Ben was as tall as Jonathan, he was much slighter. People like Chris always thought that the ten-month age gap between us made Ben nothing more than a kid, even though we were in the same year.
Mr. Cilmi, our English teacher, was approaching us, coming up the hallway fast. “What’s going on here?”
“Nothing,” I claimed, but my face was beet red, giving me away. Jonathan relaxed his protective stance.
“Mr. Baxter?” Mr. Cilmi locked eyes with Chris, silently questioning him.
“Oh, we were just discussing the formal. Who’s driving, that kind of thing,” Chris lied convincingly with a slight smile on his face.
“Right,” Mr. Cilmi said, not as won over as I would have liked. “Maybe you should find your seats, then,” he continued, looking at Jonathan, Ben, and me. “And you should get to class too, Mr. Baxter,” he ordered.
We backed into the class, watching Chris spin on his heel and walk hurriedly down the hallway.
I made my way slowly to the back of the room and slumped into my seat next to Amanda.
“You okay?” Ben asked in a hushed voice, turning to me from his seat two rows up.
“Fine,” I mouthed wearily, as I opened the book of poetry on my desk.
“Mr. Pryor! When you’re ready?” Mr. Cilmi shouted sarcastically from the front of the classroom. “Or would you and your friends like to continue to delay class today?”
Ben twisted in his seat to face front and opened his book. I glanced over to Amanda. She pursed her lips sternly and looked away, ignoring me completely until the end-of-class bell pealed.
I took my time gathering my books, waiting for the onslaught from Amanda about the dance. She said nothing, just gave me a disappointed glance before stomping out the door ahead of me on her way to the cafeteria.
I stopped off at the restroom, so by the time I got to the cafeteria and threw some pasta salad and juice on my tray, Amanda, Jonathan, Ben, and Jen were already sitting at our regular table. I took a seat beside Amanda and silently began to play with my pasta, not putting any into my mouth. I wasn’t hungry. Jen had just come from gym class, which she had with Chris, and was in the process of informing us that Chris told everyone that he had cancelled on me. I could hazard a guess it was a pre-emptive strike to save his ego.
“I’ll set him straight,” Jonathan assured me before taking a bite of pizza.
“No, don’t even bother,” I mumbled. “I really couldn’t care less what he says to anyone.” I pushed my tray away.
I hated when Amanda was mad at me. She was turned away from me, her full attention pointedly on Jen. I glanced around the cafeteria over my shoulder and spotted several people staring at me and whispering.
“Shouldn’t people have more important things to think about?” I groaned.
“I hope this isn’t because of what I think it is,” Amanda said to me without looking in my direction, her tone clearly disgruntled.
“Well, if you think it’s the money, then you’re right,” I replied, trying to sound credible. “I’ve only got another few weeks of work as it is before the restaurant closes until March.”
A lot of places in the town closed for winter when the weather got too bad. The restaurant could have stayed open, there were enough customers most of the time, but it seemed no more than a hobby to Caleb, Joshua, and Seth. They clearly didn’t need the money. I counted myself lucky I would only be out of work for two months. I jammed a straw into my juice box a bit too hard, making orange juice splutter over the top of the straw and onto the table. Amanda turned her head, her lips pressed together dubiously, and handed me a tissue. As I mopped up the splatter of juice, her eyes tightened, analyzing me closely. I felt the blush on my cheeks.
“You know he has a girlfriend?” she snapped, her voice a little harsher than usual. She didn’t need to specify she was talking about Caleb. She knew I didn’t know. She said it to hurt me, and it worked. I felt a twinge in my chest.
“We don’t know that for sure,” Jen butted in. Her expression was a marginally more sympathetic.
My stomach turned over. I was glad I hadn’t eaten the pasta. Ben and Jonathan engrossed themselves in a conversation about football with two other guys at the opposite end of the table, conspicuously ignoring the female gossip at this end. Amanda sighed, and her expression eased a little, but I could still see the annoyance in her eyes.
“Jonathan’s parents were in Manhattan a
few weeks back for a weekend, and they saw Caleb Wallace at a restaurant with a woman.”
I played with the straw, attempting to appear unbothered about the information Amanda was feeding me, even though I could feel my heart speeding. So what if he was out for dinner with a woman? It didn’t necessarily mean anything, and it was absolutely none of our business, anyway. Amanda took a breath and continued.
“Apparently she was stunning,” Amanda said. “Long, pale blond hair and amazing silver eyes—really beautiful and a little older than him by all accounts. Early thirties, Ellen guessed.” She raised an eyebrow at that bit of extra non-essential information, added purely for drama.
“Ellen didn’t say she was his girlfriend,” Jen corrected her, seeming indignant that Amanda was using a conversation between them to get at me.
“Anyway.” Amanda glared at Jen for interrupting. “He was very animated and very emotional when he was talking to her, and then Jen heard him on the phone talking about her.” She looked to Jen for affirmation.
My breathing was slightly unsteady, and I made an effort to cover it. My friends thought I was making a fool of myself. Maybe I should have just stuck to the original plan and gone to the dance with Chris. I looked around and spotted Chris walking into the cafeteria. If looks could kill, I would have dropped like a stone. The Chris option was well off the table. Amanda nudged Jen in the ribs with her elbow.
“Ouch!” Jen exclaimed, moving her seat further away from Amanda. Then, relenting, she turned to me. “I was in the kitchen last week after work, and the office door was open. I could hear Caleb on the phone talking to someone about a woman. He was going on about how he was finding it harder every day to stay away from her and that he couldn’t stop thinking about her.” She paused, apparently reluctant to tell me any of this. Her eyes flickered to Amanda with irritation. “He said she was making him feel like he was losing his mind. He didn’t even hear me knock on the door to tell him I was going until the third time I tried.”
My stomach hurt. I was just a silly schoolgirl with a silly schoolgirl crush. It was embarrassing. I was too old for this.
“He’s kind of bizarrely intense, isn’t he?” Amanda added. The annoyance faded from her face, leaving her looking like she just felt sorry for me, and her head tilted to the side. She was considering something, planning.
“What?” I asked suspiciously.
“Well.” She grinned brightly, straightening up. “Since you’re letting us all down for the winter formal…”
Jonathan’s and Ben’s eyes darted to us without breaking their own conversation. I was sure it made no difference to them whatsoever if I went to the dance, but this way, they wouldn’t have to watch Chris’s every move all night.
“You’re not getting out of the Snow Bowl, too,” Amanda finished firmly.
Damn! I was already getting my excuses ready for that expedition. A gang of us were going to the Ragged Mountain Snow Resort just outside town over Christmas vacation. This particular outing was to celebrate the last time we would all be there together while still in high school. I didn’t ski anymore; a nasty fall a few years ago left me with a badly broken leg. I had healed completely, but I had no desire to repeat the experience. If I had to go, I’d be sticking to the less dangerous ice skating rink.
“Okay,” I agreed grudgingly. “I’ll go, but that’s an enormous concession you’re getting here. Don’t expect any more until we’re fifty!” I would have to be careful not to agree to any specific activity over the next few weeks.
Amanda smiled, apparently pacified, and Jen rolled her eyes at her. The cafeteria was starting to empty, signaling it was time for our next class.
Chapter 4
Dance
It was snowing the evening of the winter formal. I shook flakes from my hair when I got inside the staff entrance of the restaurant and then ran one hand over it to check the knot. Standing in front of my opened locker, I shrugged my jacket off my shoulders, and just as I was hanging it up, I heard the kitchen door behind me open. I didn’t need to turn around to know it was Caleb. It was a strange sensation, but it was as if his presence immediately filled the room, pressing down on me and making it hard to breathe. I froze at the sound of his surprised voice.
“Triona! What are you doing here?”
My heart fluttered. I gulped twice, trying to calm it, and reminded myself that he was madly in love with the stunning blonde from New York. I turned. His startled expression made my breath catch. It was crazy; there were tingles in the pit of my stomach, and I would have been perfectly happy to stand there locked in his gaze forever, except that his eyes tightened minutely and his body seemed to stiffen. I had to make a determined effort to speak the words I’d practiced repeatedly so they wouldn’t stick in my throat.
“Hi, Caleb.” At least I sounded natural. Reaching behind me, I closed my locker and forced myself to take a small step forward. One step at a time, a little voice in my head instructed me.
I froze again, disappointed and a little hurt when, as smoothly as I stepped forward, Caleb stepped back. I didn’t understand the weird barrier he’d created between us. He seemed determined to keep a certain physical distance between us at all costs, and it made me incredibly self-conscious. What was I even doing here? I should be with my friends. My eyes stung, and I blinked, trying to hold back tears. When that didn’t work, I lowered my face and pretended to adjust my skirt.
“Didn’t Seth let you know I was working tonight?” My voice was shaky.
“No,” he muttered darkly, “he didn’t.”
I waited until I was sure there would be no tears. “Maybe I should just go out and get started?”
“Started?” He sounded slightly bewildered. I lifted my head, and he was staring at me with such an extraordinary expression, so lost, as if he couldn’t remember who I was, but was trying to. I couldn’t begin to fathom what he was thinking at all. My heart thumped.
“Work?” I clarified. “I should start work.”
“Oh yeah, sorry. Yes, of course. But it’s very quiet tonight—I’ve already sent three people home.” He took another step back, his hand at the door behind him, as though it were a reflexive response to my step forward. “The weather, maybe, and people staying home to see their kids off to the dance at your school.” He paused, studying me.
I involuntarily drew a shallow breath and quickly dismissed the idea of going home. Despite everything, I couldn’t make myself leave him.
“Shouldn’t you be at the dance?” he asked, one eyebrow rising.
“Yeah, it’s a long story…” My voice trailed off. Why would he care? I walked forward and was pleased to see he didn’t run through the door and leave it swinging after him. Instead he stepped back and held it open for me. I swiped my card and walked through, smiling timidly and trying not to meet his eyes. I was sure he took a deep breath as I passed.
***
Caleb was right about it being quiet. There were very few customers. A few couples and one party of four, and they were all gone by nine o’clock. Caleb stayed in his office all evening, as usual, as far away from me as he could possibly get. To be so close to him and not be able to see him was maddening. I really didn’t know what I had expected tonight. I didn’t know what I was doing there at all, especially after Amanda and Jen told me about his girlfriend. The only thing I did know was that Caleb was, intentionally or unintentionally, drawing me to him, and no matter how humiliating and painful it got, I couldn’t resist the pull.
I was absentmindedly ripping a piece of paper to shreds, watching the clock move with unnatural slowness, when the door opened with a bang and Chris staggered through, catching himself on the frame. He was wearing a suit, so I presumed he had come from the dance. He swayed a bit as I approached him; his face looked harsh, jaw clenched and eyes narrowed.
“What are you doing here, Chris?” I asked warily. I had never seen him in the restaurant before.
“I’m here to eat.” He looked around, taking in t
he empty room.
I noticed his lip was twitching oddly. He did look good in a suit; if he wasn’t so vile he would be very cute. “I can see why you couldn’t get away,” he sneered, his lip curling back over his white teeth. The result of bleaching, probably. “You’re run off your feet.”
I pursed my lips. He looked and sounded like he had been drinking. He didn’t walk here because he wasn’t wearing a coat, so he must have driven. I must have been more distracted than I thought, not to have heard his car.
“Come on, then, I’ll show you to a seat,” I sighed reluctantly.
Chris looked around the room again. “Oh, I think I can find one myself,” he slurred sardonically. Grabbing the nearest chair to him, he pulled it back and sat down, using too much force. The chair screeched loudly on the wooden floor, and he fell into it, knocking the one beside it sideways with a bang. Chris made no effort to pick up the seat, so I bent to retrieve it as the kitchen door swung in. Stephen, wearing his white chef’s uniform, poked his head out.
“Everything okay out here?”
“Fine,” I said bleakly, getting to my feet again.
Stephen hung on the side of the door for a moment, watching. Chris grimaced in his direction and then mumbled something about being a tease under his breath. I started to blush and hoped it wasn’t a barbed comment about me.
“Are you sure?” Stephen asked again with an expression of concern on his face.
“Yes, absolutely,” I assured him, sounding more confident than I felt.
With one last glance at Chris, Stephen went back into the kitchen. I walked over to the counter to retrieve a menu for Chris and handed it to him, then waited, notepad in hand, impatiently clicking the top of my pen with my thumb.
