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chapterone
Avett
While there are tons of ambiguities in life, moments or people that are hard to interpret or pin down, there’s one certainty inmylife that’s as clear as Bear Lake on a sunny day: Naomi James despises me.
I’m directly behind her in the coffee shop line. This isn’t abnormal. Our hometown of Windfall is the size of a postage stamp. We’re both addicted to caffeine, and the grinds at Sugar and Sips are the best. We head to work at the same time—me pulling into Ridgeview Veterinary Clinic at half-past eightafteradhering to all traffic laws, while Naomi drives like an IndyCar racer high on gasoline to the local high school, where she teaches science. Most mornings, we find ourselves in line together, separated by a patron or two.
Unfortunately, more often than not, I’m nuts-to-butt behind Ms. High and Mighty herself, where she lives to torment me. Like today.
Our friend Ricky Sellers is at the cash register. By “our” friend, I mean he’s friends with Naomi and he’s friends with me, but by no means are the three of us friends together. Anyway, when our independent-of-each-other friend moves from the cash register to wait for his order, the person behind him shuffles into Ricky’s spot, and the next person steps forward. But Naomi, who should now move ahead, doesn’t budge.
Not one dainty step
There’s no controlling my irritation. Moving forward is an unwritten rule. All line-waiters are supposed to inch ahead to take the vacant space in front of them, not leave the yawning gap there, knowing the person behind them is vibrating with annoyance because the linecanmove, but it doesn’t. Only a monster would purposely induce that level of frustration. Not even the rich coffee smells and cute pastel decor of my favorite coffee shop can ease the tension seizing my shoulders.
Naomi’s slim shoulders give a malicious shake—the Baroness of Awful holding in an evil cackle. She knows how much this move annoys me.
“Good morning, you two.” Ricky moves beside Naomi and me, his coffee in hand, standing half in her bubble of space and half in mine. Like the three of us might actually have a conversation together, when he knows I’d rather be neutered at the vet clinic.
“It is lovely,” Naomi says, angling her body so I’m out of the conversation. “But there’s an odd sound I can’t shake. A slight hiss that’s irritating. Do you hear it?”
This goddamn woman.
She’s well aware I broke my nose in grade eleven when Leo Whitaker tossed a basketball at me, which I caught with my face.
I may have been named after my grandfather, Avett Lewis, but I didn’t inherit his natural athleticism. I’m a lover of animals and science and reading graphic novels. I prefer hiking in solitude over playing team sports. I’d rather dissect a frog than watch an NBA game, and ever since I took that shot to the face, when I’m breathing hard—aka, when I’m in line behind Cruella De Naomi and irritation burns a path up my lungs—a slight wheezing sound escapes my deviated septum.
“It’s like the world’s most irritating fly is in my ear,” she adds.
What a peach.
“I didn’t notice an odd sound,” I sayto Rickyas I sift through my array of Naomi jabs, choosing the most beneficial to launch. “Or maybe I’m distracted trying to remember when my car will be fixed after some maniac slammed into it.”
Did I mention Naomi the wannabe IndyCar racer rear-ended me last week?
Good times.
From the corner of my eye, I catch how her full lips purse. Her nose does its usual twitchy thing when she’s annoyed. I mentally fist pump.
Focusedon Ricky, she says, “Avett got rear-ended because he drives like a five-hundred-year-old man with cataracts and nonexistent reflexes. Actually…” She looks at me abruptly, her gold hoop earrings swaying with the sharp move. For a split second her gaze seems to dart to my lips, but I know better. She’s eyeing my jugular, looking for the perfect place to slice. “He’s a twenty-five-year-old man-child with nonexistent reflexes and no depth perception, hence the athletic prowess that resulted in the annoying sound coming from his nose. So I’d say the accident was his fault.”
“Ready to order, Naomi?” The barista gives her a smile.
I’m so incensed I didn’t even notice the larger line gap in front of her.
High off her insult, Naomi swivels away from me and sashays up to the counter. My traitorous eyes drop to her full hips, hugged by her slim skirt. My pulse picks up.…until she pretends she doesn’t know what she wants to order.
She only does this when I’m behind her. Takes her sweet-ass time just to provoke me, then makes a show of paying with pennies and nickels and dimes, slashing another five years off my life, all because I did something stupid to her in high school.
Ricky sips his coffee and hums the theme toJaws. “You two make my coffee mornings way more fun.”
“There is nous two.”
“There’s definitely a you two.”
“In an alternate universe where all world leaders sing ‘Give Peace a Chance’ in a friendship circle, maybe.”
He smirks. “Everyone in town loves guessing which one of you will need stitches first.”
