Zalfie - How to Live

15. The Bridge

Spring

Zoe and I were at this cool, family owned restaurant in town called the Vanilla Bean.

I was reading This Boy's Life by Tobias Wolff and eating a slice of chocolate cake, while Zoe worked on her story and ate a Turkey Club and bag of  BBQ chips.

When I had gotten to the scene where Roy (Tobias' stepfather) follows Toby's mother from work to their house, Zoe slammed her laptop shut.

"I'm done," she announced.

"With the story?" I asked in surprise.

Zoe nodded in satisfaction and took a bite of her sandwich. "244 pages," she told me.

"What's it about?" She still had not let me read a single word, though she did, occasionally, ask me about punctuation and spelling.

She shook her head and whispered in my ear, "If I tell you, I'll have to kill you."

That sentence sent a shiver up my spine.

"Well, we have to celebrate," I told her, trying to distract her and keep her from seeing my darkening blush.

Zoe laughed and said, "It's not that big of a deal. It's not like it's gonna be published or anything . . ."

I shrugged. "We'll do something small," I told her. "We'll go get ice cream and watch a movie or something."

Zoe's face suddenly broke into a devilish grin. "I know exactly what we should do," she said.

 •••

About half an hour later, we were in a dingy grocery store. Zoe strode up and down the aisles quickly, muttering a bit to herself before finally finding the liquor section.

"Aha!" she exclaimed, pulling a bottle off a shelf. "The most expensive champagne in the store!"

She showed me the retail price ($36.80) and then quickly walked to a different aisle.

She eventually found what she was looking for (two plastic wine glasses) and handed me both the bottle and plastic glasses. I clutched them to my chest and watched as she adjusted her shirt so that her cleavage was more noticeable.

"My fake ID blows," she explained when she caught me raising my eyebrows at her. "I need a little bit of help to get through the purchase."

She took the champagne and glasses out of my hands and confidently strutted to the cash register, leaving me behind to try and mask my distaste at what she was doing.

I tried not to mind what she did to herself, I really did, but I found it hard because she was so much more than what she thought she was and what everyone else thought she was. I mean, if you asked anyone in our grade to describe Zoe Sugg in one word, they would all probably either use slut or whore. It was the way she appeared, immediately. It was the way she felt she had to appear to get what she wanted. And, Lord, that exterior made it hard to look into the person she really was when you first got to know her.

I waited by the styrofoam packages of circus peanuts, until she had made her purchase and was ready to leave.

We both silently exited the store and then got into the front seats of the Hydraxx.

"Next stop, Licks!" she cried and then turned the key in the engine and pressed the gas. We shot through the parking lot, the wind rushing through Zoe's hair and turning it to long waves.

For some reason, the rushing air managed to help me clear my head. I was no longer thinking about the middle-aged cashier oggling Zoe, instead I was thinking of how nice this convertible was, not stuffy at all, even though it was a surprisingly hot Spring so far.