CHAPTER 49
Ana
BETWEEN THE CRAPPY news and tomorrow’s anticipated intense practice, I’m nearing my capacity of exhaustion upon arrival at Rudy’s Diner.
At least it’s an early evening shift, though.
My manager, Zoe, still hasn’t given me her verdict on the extra hours I practically begged her for at the start of summer.
Eleven times. That’s the number of attempts I poked my boss for an update.
Refried grease consumes the air as I stroll past a group of green and white striped uniforms, spotting Zoe chatting with the latest confused-though-eager-expressioned college trainees—presumably freshmen—by the boombox.
For a Tuesday night, the diner is unusually packed, which makes my mental productivity surprising.
When skating practice needs to remain at the top list of my priorities, having a calendar is a necessity.
Which means, mental calculations of my schedule takes place when I have free time—or during a shift—aka now.
The upside of a busy shift is that it tends to go by quickly, tonight no exception, my break arriving sooner than I expect. Peeling the banana I brought with me, I disappear behind the butter yellow curtain separating the restaurant from the employees’ resting lounge (more like cubicle).
My phone rests in a palm, luring me to open it.
I fight that tickling urge to check social media for the latest skating status and updates from Pippa Collin’s latest visit to our rival academy, Aadlands, but win the battle this time, pushing my phone aside.
Less social media means less distractions.
As I’m mentally celebrating this small win, the tiny curtain parts down the middle, revealing my manager’s strawberry blonde ringlets.
“Ten more hours per week,” Zoe says. “That’s the best I could do.”
“Are you serious?!” I jolt up from my seat, gleaming.
“Yes, but this is it, Ana. I almost got in trouble for giving you longer shifts than any other employee.”
“Of course. I understand. You don’t know how much this will help me, Zoe. Thank you.”
“No problem, hun.” She pulls me in softly for a hug. When she leans back, her eyes grow skeptical. “So, have you been following any of the advice I gave you?”
“I have, a little.”
“Okay. That’s good. It’s good for you.”
“Is steam supposed to be coming from the grill?” A young male voice yells from the kitchen. “It smells like Brussels sprouts. We don’t have any Brussels sprouts. Or do we?”
Zoe’s temple creases as she dips her head back, glancing at her dysfunctional team of staff. “These freshmen are killing me,” she sighs.
I laugh softly. “Yeah, I figured they were freshmen.”
“Okay, before you leave just stop by my office so I can give you a copy of your new schedule. I better go before someone burns down the place before closing.”
Nodding, I smile as she shakes her head and leaves. My focus returns back to my banana when my phone zings.
Elle: omg that sucks! Let me know if I can help with
anything. And of course you can stay with me,
no problem. I'll be home in about an hour, but
I'll text my parents to let you in if you get
there before me
Relief floods through me at the news.
Me: that means a lot, thank you so much Elle
I’m working a shift at the diner and then need
to go back to my place to pack my things. I
think I'll be at your house around 8
Elle: okay, perfect. See you soon. I feel awful about
the leak but I'm really excited that we'll be
roomies. It'll be like a slumber party haha
A smile lifts my cheeks at my friend’s enthusiastic response.
It fades when reality reminds me of the depth of the situation.
The leak wasn’t in my financial budget for the month, but these extra hours should be enough to also cover my free skate costume—the heavily embellished piece that was way out of my budget, but so worth it—and help pitch in with the leak.
Though not my doing, I know Lucy and Nico don’t have enough to pay for the damage alone, not after she shared the estimated repair fee with me earlier today, so I’m chipping in a little.
Resuming the few minutes left of my break, I slip into the diner’s busy kitchen to pour myself a scolding hot cup of green tea, before returning back to the isolated seat.
While browsing through my campus requirements, I order a long list of used textbooks for my upcoming courses, the summer elective officially over as of last week, meaning, in exactly two weeks, my first year of grad school officially kicks off.
Turns out an extensive academic scholarship doesn’t include textbooks or school supplies. Shocker.
_________
The day feels never-ending as I finally reach Elle’s living room, rearranging my calendar with the new work schedule.
It’s the perfect setting: quiet, candlelit, and air-conditioned.
Opening my calendar to the month of August, the sound of rummaging from the kitchen draws my attention.
The refrigerator shuts, and there Mr. Montgomery stands in white, fuzzy slippers, butt naked, holding a can of whipped cream.
What. The. Actual. FUCK?
Jesus, is everyone on the planet having sex right now, but me?
That’s the first thought that pops into my head and not the more obvious: your-friend’s-father’s-semi-erect-penis-is-staring-right-at-you, and he’s very obviously about to get laid.
“You must be, Ana?”
And he decides now’s the best time to talk to me.
I should’ve sprinted away when I had the chance. Instead, I’m sitting, frozen like I’m bolted to this couch, fully clothed.
_________
“Aw, I’m so sorry about the noise,” Elle says, while we’re getting ready for practice the following morning, post horror scene between her dad and me. “Stanley never barks at night.”
Okay, so Elle’s German Shepard, Stanley, didn’t bark last night. But that’s the lie I chose to tell her after deciding I can’t stay here.
I thought about it long and hard, but after her dad and I locked eyes during breakfast today (God, it was SO awkward), and a cloud of scorching awkwardness hit, I knew staying here would ruin my focus, defeating the entire purpose. I hate lying to a friend, though.
“It’s okay, really,” I reassure. “I just need a place that’s more quiet to sleep.”
Another lie, because even a quiet room doesn’t help with my sleep these days.
“I can ask my mom if he can stay in my parents room?” she says.
Shit, I have to tell her.
“Your dad walked into the kitchen naked,” I blurt. “Last night, while I was in the living room.” Elle’s eyes fly wide open.
“Oh. My. God! What?! No. Please tell me that was your version of a really sick joke.” I blink like a deer in headlights “Fuck. Really?” I nod, and she clings onto her cheeks for dear life. “I’m so embarrassed. That’s so embarrassing.”
“No, please don’t be,” I say, holding the underside of her arm softly. “I just feel weird now.”
“Uh, so would I. I get it.” She shakes her head, as if trying to brush off the information I just shared with her. “So are you going to stay with Naomi then?”
No. I can’t stay with Naomi for many reasons. Which means I know what I need to do now.