The Coast Guard

Chapter One

There's this song that says the road to hell is paved with good intentions, and I don't even particularly like that song, but it's the one that's bearing on my mind right now.

...okay, so maybe I am exaggerating. This probably isn't going to lead me to hell, but it's not going to deal me anywhere good. I am speaking metaphorically, of course, because right now this thing's led me to Reyna Bakery, and the day I call this place anything less than 'good' is a day when people should start packing their things and preparing for the apocalypse.

That day's not today, that's for sure, I think as I unwrap my cheese vegetarian empanada with reverent fingers. I'm no pious vegan - all my "when I grow up" dreams always end up having meat in them somehow - but I've always been a fan of vegetables. And cheese. Lots of cheese. I could probably eat this forever, but I don't think I want to test that hypothesis.

"'Excuse me, Claire." Leah mutters under her breath, raising her grossly oversized cup of coffee in an attempt to mask her speech. She really shouldn't do that, because people don't drink that way and acting out of the norm isn't at all the best way to stay unnoticed, but as things are it's not as if I could just go and say that.

"Hmm?"

"Are you seeing anything from there?" she whispers, accidentally-purposely dabbing at her lips with a hanky, as her eyes do the shifty thing they do when she's being nervous. See, there's a reason why I had her sit with her back facing our...there's really no better word to use for them right now, other than quarry. "Claire?"

"Of course I'm seeing them." I say, simply, before biting into the warm empanada - ah, still flawless as per usual. Oh, right, I've business to deal with, I remember as I look over her shoulder again. "Heads bent over a plate of sandwiches, talking about something I can't make out clearly. They look...happy."

"That little jerk," Jennie almost-growls, her teeth clenched to match with her fists. The emotion she brings to this little endeavor is truly very surprising for me. "After all those hoops he had Sophie put through, he just goes and makes off with that -"

"Shush. Cool down, 'k? Just because they're happy together does not mean that they're...well, together." Though the way Noah's leaning closer into Mark's personal space is rather suspicious. To be honest with you I wouldn't care what these boys turn out to be, either way, but, well.

Like I said earlier, good intentions are gonna be the death of me.

See, this is how this story goes: through some stroke of weird unfair luck I sorta-kinda got stuck in the middle of Anna and Mark, also known as the cheesiest ship ever to set sail in recent history. When I say "got stuck in the middle of", I mean "always get group projects with". And you should believe me when I say that this is definitely more than I signed up for.

Because as far as I know, becoming someone's group mate does not mean that they can passive-aggressively coerce you into spying on their crush. But that's what happened, and in the end I really can't complain, 'cuz I'm getting a box of these empanadas, and then some, for an hour's worth of work.

The logistics go like this: Mark and his best friend Noah always go home together. Anna, who is in fact as in love with Mark as the gossip says she is, if not more, thinks they've got a special something going on, and between that and the mixed signals Mark keeps sending her, to say she's pissed would be an understatement. None of the friends Anna and I share have the same route, and they all suggested she share her plight with me. I'm not the type to butt into other people's businesses, but after a promise of baked goods and some negotiation, I decided to make an exception.

The deal was just to watch then go home, after all. Nothing more. I can do that.

"Looks like they're going," I say, before popping the last of the empanada into my mouth. The boys' sandwiches seem to be more for talking over than eating, because when they ask for paper bags there's barely any bites in them. "Go tell Anna I'll be holding up my end of the deal, ha?"

"Salamat uli, Claire," Leah says, smiling softly as I start putting away my things. That girl's always so serenely happy, and it'd actually weird me out less if I knew it was all an act. Which it isn't. "We didn't want to ask this favor of you, but...well, you know Anna. When she gets like this, none of us could stop her."

"It's no trouble. Maybe a more precise idea of what those two are up to is just what Anna needs." Your friend also needs a chill pill, and a bit better taste in men, I think, but very wisely don't say, for while Leah and Jennie have always been nothing but nice to me I don't think they'd take too kindly to me casting doubts about their friend's mental processes.

Because, seriously. Mark Sanchez is kind of a hotshot in the Luna East sports scene (which I know little of) and pageant scene (which I know even less of), and so he's always got the attention of most of the school population, but as for me, personally, I really can't see the appeal.

I can, however, see the appeal of Mark and Noah being a couple. I never see those two anywhere without each other, and whenever Mark isn't around due to some stuff he has to do Noah always throws the hissiest of hissy fits. They'll deny this to their graves, of course, but denial is always the first step when it comes to feelings.

"Ingat ka, Claire," Jennie mumbles as I stand up to leave, before returning to glaring daggers at the two boys as they laugh over something while putting on their backpacks. She's way too invested in the Anna/Mark ship, so much so as to be considered unhealthy, if you ask me.

There's a reason why I only ship fictional characters, and that's because we real people are messy and our relationships even messier. Shipping is supposed to be a hobby, not a headache!

I've been waiting outside for a jeep for a good few minutes when I see them - Noah and Mark, still laughing over some joke I'm not a part of, the buttons on their Luna East vests half undone and Noah's arm slung casually around Mark's shoulders. I commit this image to memory and look away quickly, knowing full well that judging by the way this queue is going we'd probably be riding the same jeep. And I could probably be able to glean more info if they didn't know I was here, too...

"'Nellie! Nandito ka rin pala?"

Oh, crap, I think, as Mark turns to me with that large, too-sunshiny-too-actually-be-real grin of his, and all my plans on getting through with this unnoticed go flying out the window. Noah looks at me with a face that could be either seething with jealousy or seething with annoyance that I stopped Mark from going through with the punch line, I'm not too sure which one it is.

Either way, now they're both looking at me and although I've long since mastered the art of the poker face I haven't mastered the art of other people. And talking to them. This is gonna be really awkward really quickly.

So I revert to my autopilot mode - namely, sarcasm. This is why people don't like talking to me much. "Of course I'm here. This is my route."

"This is our route, too." Noah deadpans, his voice just-this-subtly emphasizing the possessive. Or maybe I'm just reading too much into this. Not as if the arm-'round-the-shoulders thing helps with the ambiguity, though.