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18
Taylor Jane
“I’m going to have the gumbo.” My smile faltered as Jeremy Dolan, the school soccer legend and prince lookalike ordered.
He passed his menu back to the waitress, Joyce, smacking his lips in a hungry manner. Her name shined on her silver name tag and she clicked her pen twice. Her eyes darted around the diner, waiting for me to order. My stomach churned, wondering how much seafood was actually in gumbo. I wanted to impress Jeremy and look sophisticated for an almost sixteen-year-old.
“What about you, hon?” Her toothy grin was surrounded by bright lipsticks and a small spot of it had caught her top tooth.
Cautiously, I handed her my menu back, mumbling, “Same, please.”
She pocketed her notepad in the pocket of her skirt, walking away. I wondered if hives happened automatically, or if I would have until the end of the date. I felt an itch crawling up my arm fairly certainly hives had no consideration for teenage desires.
“I’m so glad you finally said yes to going out with me.” Jeremy seized my hands, squeezing the nervous tick out of them. His hands felt sweaty and I slipped my colder ones from his grasp. He was a nice looking guy, tall and thin with shaggy hair and bushy red gold eyebrows to match. Some of the girls in my class swore he looked like the younger royal Prince of England, but it was his dull blue eyes that set him apart.
I should have stayed with Kristen instead of going on this date. I wanted to be with my friends. I wanted my best friend to finally notice me. Now I was here in our favorite hangout spot with someone I had no business trying to date. I knew nothing about soccer, but I faked it, and now Jeremy was a sweaty palm away from asking me to prom. Just great. That jealously thing didn’t work like it did in the movies.
I tried smiling, but I was sure it came out more like a lemony duck face squishing my lips together and nodding.
“Hey!”
I knew that voice, turning in my seat toward the door.
“Oh, Christ….” My date mumbled a few things, arranging his silverware as Kristen and Damien made a grand entrance to sit down with us. Damien wrapped his arm around Jeremy’s shoulders all friendly like, and Jeremy pushed him off, joking and talking about sports. It was common knowledge that soccer and football players did not generally get along. I thought it was a guy thing I would never understand.
I leaned over in the booth we were all sitting at when another two couples joined us, squeezing in. I grabbed Kristen by her sleeve. “What are you doing here?”
“Saving your candy ass, sweetheart.” She looked windblown, rosy cheeked and in good spirits with her nemesis, so basically unlike her typically self.
Rolling my eyes, I told her how I really felt, only more polite while fielding a sheepish look from Jeremy, who was caught up talking sports with the guys. “Right, and you only came for the cherry tarts they make here.”
“Pfft. Whatever.” Kristen joked around and the waitress brought our gumbo, bread for the table, and a pitcher of water because all high school kids on a budget from their parents asked for the “water deluxe.”
“Anything else?” Joyce, our now happy waitress, must have been calculating her tip with the automatic 18 percent upgrade because our party was now eight instead of two. A chorus of voices asked for specials and desserts while she scribbled like wildfire in her notepad and moved additional silverware over from an empty nearby table.
“Thanks.” I nudged Kristen, who nudged me back.
“Like you really wanted to date the fire crotch over there.” She pointed a bright red painted fingernail at poor Jeremy.
“Maybe I did.” Shrugging, I lied with a smile and took a small spoonful of my soup, blowing on the steam. So far so good. No fish taste and no fish parts I could see, so I took a second bite, letting the flavors swish in my mouth. It was spicy, but the menu said it would be, and I kept eating it because I was hungry.
Joyce brought back another round of food, but I wasn’t feeling the greatest. My lips felt funny and rubbery like I might start talking and the words wouldn’t match my face. Kristen was debating some paper we had to write in history class with Damien and Becky Myers. My throat felt weird like I might choke on the bread I ate, so I gulped another mouthful of cold water. Water should flush everything out, right?
“Hey, where’s Hunter?” Damien asked, looking around.
“I don’t know. He’s your cousin.” Kristen snapped back aiming her fork at him.
“Yeah, and he drove us here, wench. Wasn’t he parking the truck?”
Kristen shook her head and the last thing I wanted was Hunter seeing me about to toss my gumbo back up in the diner like the fire scene from Carrie. I did not feel well right now and I needed to get out of there. Maybe call my dad for a ride or hide out in the bathroom until my stomach settled down.
“Be right back.” I tapped Becky to move from the seat and let me up, which she did, giving me a dirty look. I bet she would love nothing more than to tell everyone at school I was the next puke monster with the shortest dating life in New Paltz.
“You gonna finish your gumbo?” Jeremy yelled out, and I waved him off to have it. I was going to be the cheapest date ever if this all came back up. Sometimes, I could be an idiot.
Getting to the bathroom was of no use because when I got to the back of the diner and pulled on the door handle it clicked, locking me out.
“No fair!” I hit the door and the door shouted back.
