Heart Shaped Rock (18 page)

I beam at her.

“Okay, Shaynee-girl,” Sheila says, taking off her apron. She pats me on the cheek. “I’ve gotta go now if I’m gonna make it to the boys’ show.” The mention of Dean’s band makes my chest constrict. “The worst of the rush is probably over. You’ll have a couple hours here by yourself until Carmen comes to relieve you at two.”

I nod. “Okay.”

“Thanks for filling in.” She winks at me, hangs her apron on a hook, and, with a big “See ya later” to everyone and no one at the same time, glides out the front door.

For the next hour or so, I’m busier than popcorn in a skillet, as Mom always used to say. But by about one o’clock, the place is quiet and I’ve finally got a second to breathe. I wipe down the counter and take a turn through the tables to collect empty mugs and dishes. When I resume my spot behind the cash register, I lean against the counter and pull my phone out of my pocket. I never answered any of Tiffany’s multiple texts and calls from Thursday and Friday. She hasn’t tried to contact me since Friday morning when she called Dad.

I’ve been planning to reply to Tiffany in person tomorrow at school, rather than try to explain myself and my hurtful comments over the phone or in a text message, but now that so much time has passed without any response from me, I realize that Tiffany must think I’m raging mad at her. She probably thinks I actually believe the horrible things I said to her on Thursday. A surge of panic floods me.

Quickly, I type out a text:
“Hi Typh. Can u talk?”
I look at the screen, trying to decide if I should add
“I’m sorry”
to the end of my message but decide against it. I’d rather express my apologies out loud, with sincerity, than put them into a dumb text message with an emoticon. I press the “send” button.

I scroll over to my incoming text messages. “
Please give me a chance to explain,”
Dean wrote.
“What did I do wrong?”

Well, for starters, Dean, you lied to me. You knew everything about me—more than I was ready to tell you. It should have been my choice to reveal myself to you, on my own timetable. You had an advantage and you didn’t tell me so. You let me make a fool of myself. You broke my heart—my little heart-bud—after it had only just started to regrow. The whole time I was with you, I felt just like a normal, carefree teenager. And I felt... alive. But, no, the whole time, unbeknownst to me, you knew about—and you actually wanted—the damaged, lost, and lonely girl hiding inside of me. So what does that say about you, Dean? Huh? You wanted a damsel in distress to save, that’s what. You wanted someone weak and cowering. And I’m not going to be that anymore. For anyone. Not even you.

Unfortunately, this entire message won’t fit into a text. But, even if it did, I don’t have the courage to say any of it to him. It’s excruciating just thinking these thoughts; I can’t imagine the pain if they were to escape my head.

I double-check to see if Tiffany has responded to my text yet. Nothing.

I put my phone back into my pocket.

A handful more customers enter and approach the counter, and I tend to their various orders. I look at the clock. I’ve got about twenty minutes until Carmen will be here to relieve me.

The front door opens, and in walks Jared.

His face says, “Yep, it’s me again.”

“Hi, Jared.” My tone’s neutral. I think. Okay, maybe it’s a little testy.

“Hi, Shaynee.” He’s beaming at me. “You look pretty. I like your hair like that.”

“Yeah, it’s down.” And, dude, I barely brushed it today.

There’s no one else in line at the counter at the moment, and, based on Jared’s languid body language, it seems he considers that fact an invitation for a leisurely chat.

“Can I get you something?” I ask.

“Yeah, a blueberry bar would hit the spot,” he says. “Wow, it’s my lucky day. I actually came in here just to eat.” He laughs. “I thought you worked on Wednesdays and Thursdays?”

I don’t mention the fact that I’m about to start working on Tuesdays and Wednesdays. “Sheila had something to do today, so I’m helping her out.”

“I’m stoked to see you here. I was gonna come visit you on Wednesday, but today’s even better. When do you get off work?”

I look at the clock. “In, like, fifteen minutes.”

“Awesome,” Jared exclaims. He practically fist pumps the air in celebration. “So, can you hang out?”

“Three eighty-five.” I push the blueberry bar toward him.

Jared pulls out a not-too-wrinkled twenty-dollar bill from his pocket.

“So, you’re a high roller now?”

Jared laughs his classic surfer-boy laugh, acknowledging his pitiful ball o’ bills from the other day. I had forgotten how endearing his laugh is.

“Yeah, Friday was payday, so I’m livin’ large now. Let’s go spend my
beaucoup
(which Jared pronounces as “boo-coo”) paycheck. Ride the roller coaster, get some ice cream.”

I look into Jared’s brown eyes, trying to understand his persistence toward me. “What do you know about me, Jared?”

He purses his lips, thinking about my question. “I know you like to ask me questions.”

I glare at him.

He laughs. “Well, let’s see. I know you’re hot.” He chuckles.

I avert my eyes. Obviously, I’m not hot. That’s just stupid.

“And you work here, of course. And... um... you’re sixteen, I know that. And you’re friends with Kellan and that crew, which means you’re cool. Oh, and I heard you’re a megatron singer, which is pretty sick. And... I already told you this one—you’re beautiful. Like, freakishly beautiful. That’s about it.”

He’s made a huge mistake. If he’d only aimed a bit lower than “hot” and “freakishly beautiful,” I might have bought some of his flattery. Maybe even all of it.

“That’s all I know,” Jared continues. He shrugs. “But I’m dying to find out the rest.”

“Is that right?”

“Yep.”

“Well, I think you’re gonna be surprised by what you find out. Maybe even disappointed.”

“Oh yeah? Why’s that?”

“Because I may look normal and nice, but I’m really not.”

“No?”

“Nope.”

“So... what then? You’re abnormal and mean?”

“Yes, exactly. I’m abnormal and mean.”

“Wow, thanks for the warning.”

“You’re welcome. So, I suggest you run like hell.”

“That would be the smart thing for me to do, for sure.” He puts his forearms on the counter and leans toward me.

“And there’s more.”

“More? Wow. You really
are
scary.”

“Yeah, I’m heartless, too.”

“Mmm hmm.” Jared looks at me like I’m a giant blueberry bar.

“And I don’t need anyone to save me.”

“That’s cool by me. I left my cape at home.”

“To be perfectly honest with you, I might even be a little bit crazy.”

“Sounds like fun.” He leans closer and licks his lips.

“Have you heard a word I’ve said, Jared?”

“Every word.”

I shake my head and take a step back. “Okay, I think I’ve given you the wrong idea here.” I’m sputtering.

“Really? I think you’ve been pretty clear.”

“Jared, I’m not
flirting
with you.”

“Sure sounds like it.” He stands upright.

“No. I’m just trying to warn you.”

“Warn me?”

“Yeah, in case you think I’m this nice girl—well, I mean, don’t get me wrong, I
am
a ‘nice girl,’ like, you know, I’m not a ‘bad girl,’ or a ‘vixen’ or a ‘ho-bag’ or, like, a ‘brain-eating-zombie’ or something”—I’m making exaggerated air quotes with my fingers as I say each new category of “bad girl”—“but I mean, if you’re looking for a normal, nice girl—a girl splashing water on her face in slow motion in a Noxzema commercial—then I’m not her.” I’m rambling. I’m imploding. I am a hot mess.

Jared laughs his laid-back chuckle. “Wow, I must admit, I’m stoked you aren’t gonna eat my brains. That’s always a plus in a girl.”

I can’t help but laugh.

“Yeah, you’re definitely not normal, I’ll give you that—although I don’t need a warning to figure that out. That’s pretty obvious. I’m not so sure about the ‘mean’ part yet. I gotta find out for myself.” He leans forward onto the counter again and grins.

“I just... I’m sorry, Jared. I just... I don’t get why you’ve been so... interested in me. You strike me as a guy who’d want the usual kind of girl.”

Now Jared leans completely across the counter and right into my personal space. “Shaynee, you have no idea what I want.” After a beat, he beams his crazy white teeth at me.

He’s relentless.

I sigh.

Jared lets out a sigh, too, an exaggerated imitation of mine, like he’s commiserating with my difficult predicament. “Come on, it’ll be fun. Do you like roller coasters?”

I shrug. But my smile gives me away.

“Do you like ice cream?”

I shrug again. And smile again.

“Well, then, let’s do it.”

“Hi, Shaynee,” Carmen says, walking in. “Oh, hi, Jared.”

Jared straightens up. “Hey.”

I’m guessing Jared doesn’t know Carmen’s name any more than he knew Tiffany’s name.

Carmen disappears into the back room.

“So, what do you say?” Jared stage-whispers to me.

I twist my mouth, giving the matter due consideration. “I say... Okay,” I finally stage-whisper back.

Jared whoops in celebration.

“But don’t forget, you’ve been warned.”

Jared mock-shudders. “Oh, you’re so scary.”

“I’ll ride the roller coaster with you, Jared, and I’ll even eat ice cream with you.”

“Awesome.” Jared flashes those pearly whites at me again.

“But don’t ever lie to me.”

Jared closes his mouth. He looks confused.

“Thanks for holding down the fort, Shaynee,” Carmen says, taking her place behind the counter.

“No problem.”

I march out from behind the counter and stride purposefully to the back room to gather my stuff, leaving Jared looking like a perplexed puppy at the counter.

Chapter 18

The Belmont Park roller coaster creaks up and up and up on its rickety wooden track, huffing and wheezing as it climbs to the top of its highest peak. Jared and I are seated side by side in our coaster car, taking in the ocean view for miles and miles to the west. At the tippy top of the track, just before the downward slope, Jared grabs my hand, anticipating our imminent drop. Just as our coaster car tips forward and begins its descent, Jared throws our clasped hands up into the air and screams at the top of his lungs.

I, on the other hand, don’t make a sound. I am neither thrilled nor scared. This is not a life or death situation, after all. It seems pretty lame to freak out on a stupid roller coaster, now that I think about it.

I look over at Jared as we whoosh down the track, twisting and turning, bouncing and shaking on the old wooden frame, and I see his white teeth gleaming and racing through space like shooting stars. He looks suddenly five years younger than his age. He reminds me of Lennox, though, weirdly, somehow, less mature than Lennox. Jared’s so
happy.
And
excited.
And
thrilled...
to be on an old wooden roller coaster.

Good for him.

But I can’t relate.

“That was gnarly,
”
Jared says as we disembark from the ride. “You wanna go again?”

I realize this is the first time I’ve ridden a roller coaster since Mom died. I seem to remember this particular ride being a whole lot scarier. More of an adrenaline rush. I guess, once you’ve experienced true fear—the worst fear you can imagine—simulated fear loses its bite. “Whatever you want to do,” I reply. I feel like I’m humoring Lennox.

“Yeah, let’s do it one more time,” Jared says. He grabs my hand, laughing, and pulls me to the ticket booth again.

The second ride turns out to be no different than the first, except that, this time, as Jared throws my hand up into the air and screams at the top of his lungs, I begin to philosophize about how symbolic roller coasters really are, and how life, no matter how clichéd it sounds, is full of ups and downs. I begin to wonder if every slow climb up, up, up in life really does, inevitably, just lead to a crashing, harrowing, bone-chattering down, down, down? And if so, if that’s just the way it is, if there’s no alternative and no way off the ride, then wouldn’t it make the most sense to just try to enjoy the ups as much as possible? To savor them and cherish them and tuck them away inside your heart? To look around at the beautiful view and the blue sky and the little ant-people down below and just breathe it all in and be grateful for it? And then, when the inevitable down, down, down crashes upon you, to just close your eyes and hold on tight and try not to hurl or cry too much—to try to remember, even if it’s damned near impossible to do it, that another “up” lies just ahead on the track?

“Woohoo!” Jared screams. “So awesome.” He puts his hand up for a high five, and I oblige him. Indeed, I even smile at the boy. He’s adorable. Happy. Easy to please. Simple. That’s good. Good for him. Good doggie.

“Ice cream?” Jared asks as we depart the coaster.

“Sounds good,” I say.

“Let’s go to that place on the corner,” Jared says, motioning a few blocks up the boardwalk. I know the place he’s talking about. They’ve got waffle cones. There’ll be no argument on my end.

“So, do you live in that house on Bay Street? The one from the party?” I ask.

“Nah,” Jared says. “That’s where my brother lives with his roommates. I live with my parents up by Law Street.”

I notice he’s said “parents,” plural. I don’t ask for more information.

“Where do you live?” Jared asks.

“Over by Old Town,” I say. “I live with my dad and brother.” There, I said it; I volunteered it; I revealed it on my own, at a time of my own choosing.
Take that, Dean.

“Cool,” he says. But he doesn’t ask for more information, much to my relief.

“Do you surf?” he asks.

“A little. My dad does. He used to take me out on his long board growing up, but I don’t love it.”

“Oh, God, I do. I
love
it. Riding a wave is the best feeling in the world.” He sighs. “I
live
for it.”