13. Out of Stock
OUT OF STOCK
Natural [Imagine Dragons]
Sweat beads down my forehead. As I enter the girls’ changing room, my bones ache, my mouth has gone dry, and I’m in desperate need of water.
Samantha sags down into her seat, unable to move her body to change, while I slip out of my sports shorts and put on my tights. As I do, Samantha asks me how my lunch with Conner went.
I tell her about the game we played, but she doesn’t understand.
In all honesty, I wasn’t sure what it was until I played the game.
“Andy was too wired up at lunch,” Samantha says as she sprays deodorant under her armpits. “He expected you to hang out with us.”
“Oh…”
“I told him you’re allowed to have friends outside our circle.” Samantha shrugs. “I guess he is used to you hanging around the back, considering you’ve been doing it since year seven.”
But hanging out with other people doesn’t justify his childish behaviour.
Retrieving my phone from my front pocket, I see messages from Andy and Conner.
Andy: Did you want a lift home?
Conner: I’m waiting beside my car, Lady Guinevere. Does that sound like a cool tank name?
I text Andy. There is a gnawing, guilty feeling, but I shouldn’t because Conner asked first, and I had already made plans with him. I shouldn’t feel guilty or sad when I reject Andy.
Me (to Andy): Sorry, but Conner already asked me this morning. Maybe next week?
Then I reply to Conner.
Me (to Conner): See you then. No.
My phone vibrates before I put it in the bag. Why does he have to be so cruel? I don’t want to see him at school next week while he is acting like this. I don’t even want to reply, knowing that he might respond as bitterly as this message if I do.
Andy: Whatever, Noya. It was a one-time offer. See ya next week if you still want to hang out with us and not Ur *new* friends.
I stuff the phone into my bag and swing it across my shoulder. Samantha walks with me towards the car park, scanning every head in the hope she finds Dylan.
My mind wanders elsewhere as the dark and looming clouds hover over me and my entire life. School is my haven away from Dad, the mess, and Mum’s tears. This is my escape, but the way Andy is acting is making my safe place crumble right before my—
A sharp and sudden sound draws into my ears. I turn toward the parking lot, and I’m not the only one. Everyone nearby turns at the sudden music pumping loudly. As we head to the car park, Samantha pushes past the crowd, creating an opening.
However, now that I am here…witnessing Conner, I wish I were an ant.
Conner leans against his car door with the window down and “Natural” by Imagine Dragons pumping through his speakers. He points to me as the chorus comes on, singling me out in the crowd.
Samantha’s jaw drops as she grabs my shoulder, rocking it as she tells me how cute this is. I, on the other hand, wish I had never existed.
I consider leaving the crowd and going to the bus stop, but I’m sure he’ll show up and still be playing the song. So, I duck my head and walk towards the dramatic, outlandish culprit. He’s acting as if we live in a high school musical.
“Hey, Noya,” he says as he opens the car door for me.
“You’re embarrassing,” I murmur, my face heating down my throat.
“I know. Does it bother you?”
When I sit in the car, I turn the volume down before any of the teachers appear. “No,” I admit lamely.
“Hey, Andy,” Conner calls as he closes my side of the car door.
My stomach stirs. I glance in the side mirror and at Andy watching from outside his car. His eyes narrow, and his fists clench, trembling at his sides.
Lowering my focus away from him, I pay attention to Conner. He closes his car door and smiles at me.
I will worry about Andy on Monday. For now, I will focus on Conner. “Why did you do that?” I ask while he drives out of the car park.
“I felt like singing, and when your song came on, it reminded me of you.”
“Are you always this spontaneous?”
“I’d like to think of it as one of my personality traits.” He leans towards me and grins. “Yours is blushing whenever you’re embarrassed—even if it’s over the smallest things. It’s cute.”
“Stop,” I whisper as I stare out the window.
He’s right. I’m doing it now as I relive Conner’s singing. And he knows, too. His breathy amusement slips out of his parted lips.
“Also, thank you for today.” I rub my palms along my tights. “I had fun.”
“I know. I wish I had been there to see it, though. Aaron told me you were super excited when you rolled high on the dice.”
I smile as I overlook the homes blurring past.
“You look beautiful when you smile,” Conner states.
“Sorry?” My eyes widen in bewilderment.
“You heard me.”
I certainly did, but I hoped he would respond differently after I questioned him.
Conner is candid. Too honest, and I guess his honesty surprised me. It’s like he’s an open book that’s ready for me to read while I’m here with chains, creating thousands of locks to ensure no one reads me.
Except that Conner has the master key and is twisting every lock with each interaction we have. He is turning pages. Figuring me out before I can figure myself out. And there’s a part of me that wants him to.
I want to sit in this car all night and tell him about my childhood, why I buy beer, and the utmost fear hovering over me.
But the thought of Dad suffocates those thoughts, and that shiny badge on his chest and gun strapped to his waist causes me to hold my tongue. He can move the pieces on the chessboard without rules restricting him.
He is the rules, and it weighs far more heavily on my shoulders than telling Conner any more than he should know.
“What is your favourite colour?” Conner asks as I finish serving the lady at the register. “I love the colour green.”
“Orange,” I answer.
“Why?”
“Like the sunset.” I clean the rollers. “Why do you like green?”
“There are different shades of green, so when I draw grass, leaves or mulch, I dabble with many colours, and I like that.”
A man enters my lane with his groceries. My thoughts run deeper at Conner’s answer while I scan the man’s packaged food.
Conner sits on the bench across from my workstation, and Olivia speaks briefly to him, but doesn’t seem bothered that he’s making another appearance. If anything, it brightens her night whenever Conner talks to her as she walks past.
Green. He loves the colour green because of how people feel when they see his work—at least, that’s what I’m gathering from what he just said.
His work is unique. The drawings and paintings at school hold so much attention to detail. I envy how realistically Conner draws, while mine spiral through emotions and imagination.
If he asks me to draw him, I fear he will look completely different from the portrait I set out to create.
But if I ask him to draw me, I can feel the stroke of the pencil against my lips and the shading of my nose.
Every flick of hair will be unique, and he will work tenderly on my eyes, lining them perfectly.
“Noya,” Conner clears his throat.
I blink back to reality and see the man waiting with his card pinched between his fingertips.
“S-sorry,” I say as I spit the EFTPOS machine in his direction. “That’s seventy-six twenty-five.”
“Do you often drift off like that?” Conner asks after the man leaves with his groceries.
“Yes,” I answer.
“How do you pull yourself out?”
“I don’t.” I place the receipt in the drawer, then close it. “My surroundings do that for me.”
Conner purses his lips as he leans back in his chair.
“What’s your favourite food? Mine is Milo cereal. Lunch and dinner are the same. I could eat pork roast all day, every day. And my favourite snack is salt and vinegar chips. Yours?”
“Um…” I lean against the counter and relax while Olivia turns on the electric roller doors. “I like Rice Bubbles, but there has to be a lot of sugar on it.”
Conner laughs.
“As for the main meal.” I shrug, finding it hard to pinpoint when one comes to mind. “Pizza. An actual fresh pizza. Not the frozen ones.”
“You aren’t a pineapple on pizza girl, are you?” he questions, his eyes narrowing.
“Maybe,” I reply.
“Noya!”
I rest my hand over my mouth and giggle.
“And what about a snack? Dessert?”
“Snickers bar,” I answer, fondly remembering James sneaking me the chocolate bar whenever I went to the service station. I’m sure he didn’t realise how much that chocolate saves me on the days when there was no food at home.
I could have stolen from the service station. I doubt James would care—but it’s the principle that I can do this without stealing. And there’s the thought that if I get caught, Dad would be the first to know about it.
“All right, kids. It’s time to leave and head home.” She points to Conner. “Tell your mum I’m definitely coming over this weekend for that glass of wine she offered me.” Then she points to me. “I’ll see you next Wednesday, Noya. Now go and enjoy your weekend.”
* * *
I lied to Conner.
I told him I didn’t need to go to the service station tonight. He didn’t press, which I’m grateful for, but my stomach cramps whenever I lie to him.
He has been open towards me since we started talking, and I am over here hiding everything I can.
And I know he wouldn’t pressure me if I asked him to take me to the service station. Yet, I want to hide the number of times I need to come here. He’s too curious. If I bought beer every day and went home with it, he would be smart enough to put two and two together.
So, I pretend I’m entering Mrs Crawford’s home. Conner leaves, and after he’s gone, I walk the way we came and towards the Service Station while I fiddle with my earphones.
I don’t put them in. Sparks of fear get the best of me as I imagine Conner turning back around, declaring he forgot to tell me something, or that I left something in the car.
I need to be on high alert, and if I see his car, hide before those headlights illuminate me.
When I get to the service station, I sigh with relief. There are no cars.
I enter the store, and James smiles tightly as I walk past him. Looking away from him, my smile falters, becoming short-lived at the blatantly obvious sign declaring it is out of stock.
My organs drop out of my body as I imagine every violent act known to man that Dad will subject me to when I come home with the brand of beer he doesn’t like.