Chapter 27
The Lake Rock Diner is the same shiny hunk of metal and neon it was when it was built.
The pink and green tile floors are the same too, as are the little jukeboxes in each booth, which would explain why the tiles and the jukeboxes are all broken.
Over the past year we’ve tried nearly every item on the twenty-page menu and none of them are good. It’s very comforting.
Andi blows their straw wrapper at me. “You think you’ll tell the same story on Saturday?”
“I should, right?”
“Yes,” Tony says without looking up from the sugar packets he’s organizing. He’s sitting beside Andi on the outside of the booth because he always gets the seat closest to the exit. “You repeat that at the Vanderbilt? Your career officially begins.”
Elijah’s knee touches mine. “How are you feeling about it?”
The server comes and Tony orders a round of French fries and milkshakes for the table, clarifying that he’d like an oat milk shake for Andi. When the server says she doesn’t have oat milk, Tony slams his fist and says, “A tall glass of ketchup then, please!” She frowns and departs.
Tony takes his phone out and opens his video of Joe Johnson’s set, saying, “This was punchline after punchline after punchline.”
Elijah waves his hand. “It didn’t have substance, though.”
Andi leans over Tony’s shoulder. “But it was funny.”
Elijah sits back, his arm brushing mine. “There was no deeper meaning, because there was no conflict.”
“Not true.” Tony puts his phone away. “The conflict was outside the room and inside us. The laughter—the shared laughter of everyone in the room together—was the resolution.”
His eyes widen.
“You wanna write that down?” Andi says.
“I do.” He sighs. “Unfortunately, I don’t believe in the written language.”
Elijah places his hands in his lap, one over the other, and turns to me. “What did you think?”
“I thought it was hilarious.”
“But?”
“But…I saw him in the bathroom before the show? Kinda having a panic attack. And I want to know why he didn’t talk about anything like that onstage.”
“And that’s preventing you from celebrating your win?”
“Am I not celebrating?” I suppose I am removed from my consciousness. I guess I’m thinking this thought without saying it aloud, which is generally a sign I’m not connected to the present moment. “I was hoping Joe would talk to me after the show, but he disappeared.”
“By all accounts he is legitimately awkward,” Tony says. “Don’t take it personally.”
I tell myself not to ask because I already know the answer, but I ask, “Did anyone see my mom there?”
Everyone shakes their heads.
I take out my phone and text her, Out at the diner! And I won! Just letting you know
Even worse than her not replying, she begins to reply, and stops, and never actually does.
Andi rips off the corner of their paper placemat. “You had me at the end of your set. I really thought you were gonna cry.”
Tony locks eyes with me.
The server drops our food and saves the day.
The glass of ketchup is horrifying and Andi immediately holds their arms out to prevent anyone from dipping a fry in it.
I still haven’t gotten used to seeing them without a beanie and hoodie, especially with the buzzed head.
They’re a new person, or they’re the same person but I’m rethinking who they were all along.
Elijah tucks his hands between his legs. “You get complimentary tickets for Saturday?”
Tony puts a finger on the table. “Any extras should be given to nano-influencers. They influence the micro-influencers.”
He holds out his phone and displays a series of profiles.
Andi squints. “Those are just girls from other schools.”
Tony slams the phone down. “Some of them go to our school!”
Elijah attempts to make eye contact. “Are you nervous?”
Mostly I’m surprised that I can talk about an embarrassing memory in front of a hundred strangers, but I am unable to talk about how I’m feeling right now with three friends. I look around for something, anything that will help me say words.
Thankfully, Tony chugs his milkshake in a series of loud gulps, lets out a long gurgle, and says, “Elijah. Do you know the Diner Placemat Genitals Game?”
Soon we’re all pointing at ads on the placemats and replacing any word with genitals .
We Pay Cash For Old Genitals. High-Quality, Low-Cost Genitals Maintenance.
Etcetera. The game has the unfortunate but unsurprising effect, though, of making me think about genitals.
When Elijah reaches for his napkin and his leg touches mine, I jump.
“Look,” Elijah says, pointing. “They’re advertising the Big Duck.”
Tony grins. “You mean the Big—”
“You know the Big Duck?” Andi says.
Elijah puts his hand on mine. “We went last night.”
Andi turns to me. “I thought you were working on your set.”
“I was,” I say, talking slowly. “And then Elijah and I ended up going for a drive.”
“Cool.” Andi’s voice is high.
“We went out east. And that’s where we found the—”
“I know the Big Duck. I pass the Big Duck all the time.”
“Why do you pass the Big Duck all the time?” I ask.
They rip a straw wrapper into tiny pieces, not answering. “Did you have fun?”
Thankfully the check drops so I can look at it like I’m fascinated by the cost of food. Before the server can walk away, Tony hands her his debit card.
“Thanks, manager man,” Andi says.
“I’m no longer Sean’s manager.”
Elijah picks up his phone. “What can I send you?”
Tony shakes his head. “All good, bro.”
Elijah takes out cash. “I’ll get the tip.”
“I tip well,” Tony growls.
“Sleepy!” I shout to break the tension. “So sleepy. Let’s all go sleep, am I right?”
The server puts down the receipt and some mints, Tony writes an exorbitant tip in giant numbers, and I smile blankly.
“You need a ride?” Andi asks.
Elijah turns to me. “I have a full tank of gas.”
“Sean’s with me,” Tony says, standing. “Manager needs to run through a game plan for Saturday.”
“I thought you weren’t his manager anymore,” Andi says.
I look at Tony. “We should probably still talk, though.”
He smiles.
I turn to Elijah. “If that’s all right?”
He couldn’t look more peaceful. “Of course.”
Andi takes out a stick of gum and I grab one of the mints. Tony is already standing by the door like a bodyguard securing the path.
Elijah stops. “Going to the restroom before I drive.”
Tony gives him a hard look. “Kegels.”
He blinks only once before replying, like a true gentleman, “Thank you.”
The goodbyes are quick and when Elijah leaves for the restroom there’s a small letdown in my chest. It appears to bring most of my chest with it, so maybe it’s a big letdown.
By the time I’m aware that Andi is saying goodbye, they’re driving away.
I give a wave to their departing taillights.
Tony stands next to his car and checks different apps to see which one suggests the shortest route to my house.
I only live ten minutes away and there aren’t many roads to choose from.
He scrutinizes the maps, zooming in and muttering.
I look at the clouds in the sky and try to find the moon.
“You’re still here!” Elijah shouts from the diner door.
I smile. “We are.”
I look at Tony. He’s going to wait for me to say it.
“Do you mind if I ride with Elijah?”
“Of course not.” He doesn’t blink. “But first, I wanted to tell you that when you made that joke at the end, I could tell you didn’t know what you were going to say until you said it.”
I adjust my stance. “I figured it out and I got the laugh.”
“But what if you hadn’t?”
“I don’t know, I would’ve—”
“You were on the verge of a breakdown in front of a room of strangers. If you keep throwing yourself off these cliffs, at some point nobody will catch you.”
Elijah stands by his car, not getting into it but not coming closer.
“Somebody’s already caught me,” I say.
Tony takes a long inhale. “I hope you’re right.”