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Forget college—bye-bye, all the other years of my life.
I would have died in this lobster tank.
Chapter Forty-six
I was working at Finnegan’s on Friday when a swarm of East Shoalers stormed the place. Everyone from the club to Cliff and Ria showed up, cramming every corner of the restaurant.
Finnegan himself always stopped by on Friday nights, and this royally screwed me over because I couldn’t take pictures or do my perimeter checks or my food inspections. He sat in his office and made sure we were doing what we were supposed to. He was an average-looking guy—average height, average build, average black-brown hair and gray- blue eyes. He reminded me of a vulture, his neck too long and bent at odd angles.
Miles wandered in and took a seat with the rest of the club. Gus slid his burger and fries through the kitchen window before I could ask for it.
“Thanks,” Miles said when I set the food in front of him. Art and Jetta sat across from him, the triplets at the next table over.
“Sorry I can’t stay and talk,” I said. “Finnegan’s here. He’ll crucify me if it looks like I’m not working.” I tugged on Miles’s white shirtsleeve with two fingers as I said it. A sorry replacement for a kiss, but the best I could do under Finnegan’s watch.
“Pretend like we’re ordering something else,” Theo said. “And answer this question: You’re going to prom, right?”
Miles rolled a french fry between his thumb and index finger.
“I—no, I can’t.” I pulled out my notepad and pretended to write something down. “I have to work that night.”
“Oh, but Jetta could make the perfect dress for you,” whined Theo. “Please? Please go. Ask off work. I did, and I never ask off.”
“I really can’t, Theo; I’m sorry.” I didn’t have the money for it, and neither did Miles.
“Don’t look now,” Art whispered. “Cliff’s giving you the evil eye.”
In my peripheral, I noticed Cliff and Ria staring at me from a few tables over.
“They can do what they want,” I said. “They probably just want to make some more jokes about me being a snake charmer.”
I didn’t expect anything else from them at this point. After the snake incident, I saw them in the cafeteria, reenacting what had happened for their friends. According to them, I’d fainted straightaway, and Miles had tried to beat the snake to death while it was still wrapped around me. A-plus performances, really, but if they were going to make fun of my near-death experience, they could have at least gotten the details right.
I ignored them and returned to the counter, pretending to look for another notepad but actually searching for the Magic 8 Ball. Was that snake real every time I saw it, or only sometimes? Were there other things I had thought were hallucinations, but were actually real? Even if the answer to that one was yes, it wasn’t like the 8 Ball could tell me exactly what they were. . . .
The 8 Ball’s usual spot beside the register was empty. I grabbed Tucker. “Hey. Where’s the 8 Ball?”
“What?”
“The 8 Ball. Finnegan’s Magic 8 Ball. I can’t find it.”
Tucker gave me a weird look, said, “Finnegan doesn’t have a Magic 8 Ball,” and hurried off.
I stared at the countertop and let that sink in. I’d used that 8 Ball so many times I couldn’t remember all the questions I’d asked it. And I’d never once suspected it of being a hallucination. It didn’t even seem like a hallucination. There was nothing strange about it. The blue water wasn’t purple or orange or green. It never said strange things. It was just an old Magic 8 Ball, red scuff mark and all. It was just there.
I looked up. The restaurant was a living, breathing creature, ready to eat me alive. I braced my hands against the edge of the counter and took a few deep breaths.
“Alexandra!” Now Finnegan was leaning forward in his computer chair, craning his vulture neck around the office door to see me. “Get back to work!”
I scrambled for my water pitcher. Tucker was already going around with the Coke and tea. I nodded as I passed him, refilling drinks on the way. When I stopped at Cliff and Ria’s table, everyone there was strangely cordial to me. I liked it that way. It was like they didn’t really notice me. I ignored them and they ignored me. Good.
Until I turned to move on to the next table. My foot caught on something. I stumbled. The water pitcher, after sloshing its contents across my front, caught me in the jaw. Pain throbbed through my lip, and coppery blood spread across my tongue.
I cursed and pushed myself up. Laughter arced over my head. Cliff pulled his foot back under the table.
Then Miles rose from his seat and dragged Cliff out of his, slamming him back against the table. Ria and the others cried out as their glasses rattled.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Miles growled. Every muscle in his hands and arms stood out, strained, his jaw tight. This was worse than yelling. This was even worse than in English class. His glasses had slipped down his nose, and he nailed Cliff to the table with an unrelenting stare. “When are you going to stop? What did she do to you?”
“Chill out, Richter—”
“YOU FUCKING CHILL OUT, CLIFFORD.” Miles slammed him against the table again. “If you’ve got a problem with anyone, it’s me. So deal with me.”
I stood, grabbing my water pitcher. “Miles, stop. He’s not worth it. It’s not a big deal.”
Miles’s eyes flickered over to me. “He hurt you.”
I touched the spot on my lip where I’d bitten myself. My fingers came away bloody. “I’ll be fine. I bit my lip. It was an accident.”
Miles looked less than thrilled, but he released Cliff.
“Damn, Richter. You know your girlfriend is screwy in the head, right?” Cliff tugged on his collar. “But I guess you’re used to that, huh? I figure you like her because she reminds you of your dear old Mutter.” He paused and folded his arms, getting a serious, concentrated look on his face. “It’s really kind of creepy, when you think about it, because that means that you want to fuck your mom.”
I felt the shock wave move through the room. It started with Miles, knocking him slightly backward, seeming to ripple through every last inch of him. It silenced the rest of the restaurant. I saw Tucker in the far corner, forgetting that he was refilling someone’s tea and letting the cup overflow.
In the world of high school insults, it was actually pretty tame, but Miles’s reaction made it terrible. Even Ria seemed scared. The muscles in Miles’s throat worked as though he was trying to speak or swallow, but his lips pressed together so tightly they turned white. He closed his eyes.
