"Thanks for covering for me."
I halt on my way down the stairs, gripping the cold railing just when Nathan comes to view, dark-blonde hair cut shorter. He stops at the bottom of the steps and waits for me to get to him.
"Where were you yesterday?" I ask, arms crossed over my chest. A lame attempt to look intimidating. "And you're not welcome."
He starts walking away but I notice he rolled his eyes. "Just thanks, Okay?"
"Nathan, the only reason I told your mom you were with us at the workshop— Supposedly too busy to answer the phone, was because I wanted her to feel you were with safe company. And because I actually hope you were."
"I was."
"How do I know?"
Even though the hallway on second floor is never too busy, I still find myself cornering a few people. While trying to keep up with his fast pace.
"Dave, some other workers too, admitted that you hardly ever show up for work. That when you do show up, you're minutes late." He opens his mouth to say something but I'm quick to shut it down. "And don't ask me if I want to take that out your paycheck."
His lips spread into a coy smile. "Got me there." Then he drops the smile and puts his hands through his hair. "Melissa, there's just some shit I've got going on right now. But I can swear to you once it's all sorted out, I'll be the best employer your father's ever had."
I stop our movement by jumping in front of him. His eyes lay on me. "Nathan, you're not just a worker at my dad's, you're my friend. So It's not about you not showing up for work, it's more about why. Where are you always at instead of the workshop, and what 'shit' are you going through?"
He shakes his head, staring towards the metallic blue lockers by the side like he'd rather be in any other situation than this one. Well, too bad.
When he shifts his eyes to me it's as if he's hoping I'd have gotten tired and walked away, or magically disappeared. I raise a brow.
"Fine." He huffs out, then eyes me in his usual frustrated way. "Okay. Thing is, I've got a second job."
"Oh. Okay. That's... good." I blink. "Wasn't really expecting that. Not like I don't wish you the best and all."
"I met a guy there. He knows who my dad is."
I blink. Wasn't expecting this either.
"Knows who your dad is?" I ask, tentatively. "How's that even possible?"
His eyes go to the floor like he's reasoning this for the first time. And it surely must be the first time.
"Nathan, are you seriously believing some random man out there who claims to know your father?"
"He's not just a random man."
"Then what is he, your uncle? A well-known dad finder?" I follow Nathan's eyes as they go above my head, two students that seemed to have been in a conversation have paused just to check us out. But they're quick to avert their gaze.
"Let's not talk about this anymore."
"No, Nathan listen, everybody knows about your obsession to find your father—"
"And isn't it—"
"It's very valid. Okay? It is. But at the same time, it could be a bait. It could be this... man's bait to get you to work for him."
"I'm not working for him. One. And second, I'm getting paid for every job done. He's my friend, he's helping."
"Oh, now he's your friend."
"I'll come by the workshop today after school. Promise not to slack from here-on."
"Fine, Fine but wait." I jog to cover up the now large space between us thanks to his long legs that could cover ten steps with one. I'm grateful he's stopped going any further, though his frustrated sigh reveals he wants to.
"What?"
"Be safe, alright. That's really all I care about." I tell him and his eyes actually go soft.
"I'm alright, Melissa." He says then opens his mouth but closes it.
"What is it?"
"Are you really with Tyler?"
I jut my hands into the pockets of my blazer to give me time to think for an answer. Am I?
"It's okay if you are."
"No. I mean, no we're not. The thing is we kinda know each other a little. He comes around my street and we talk sometimes, that's pretty much it. The picture was taken at a strategic angle." I like Tyler, obviously, but I'm not sure if he really does like me or I'm just seeing things I want to see. I don't know what page he's on, and whatever page it is he hasn't kept me on it with him.
And if I'm actually just seeing things I want to see, then I'd better not spread any false news. Even to a close friend.
I look up to meet Nathan's blue orbs that seem to be studying me. Despite clearly not appearing to believe a word I said, he says, "Okay. I'll see you around then."
"Mhm."
I watch him walk away, and just as he gets completely out of view, there's Amy, strutting towards the left wing like a super model. We haven't exactly met eye to eye since my split with Pamela.
But I bet she's happy about it.
The air-conditioners aren't on around here and the weather isn't even cold, but I shove my hands into my pockets to find warmth while going down the final stairs to ground floor. Or perhaps it's an answer I'm looking for, not warmth.
Should I eat in the cafeteria or find somewhere secluded from humanity to eat at then feel awkward when someone randomly walks in and wonders why I'm not eating where everyone else is?
The answer is obviously the second one. But that's such a Melissa thing to do. There are times when, yes, it appears I betrayed my best friend. Consciously didn't let her in on an important detail in my life, and in some twisted way, my mind even goes as far as making me feel I stole Tyler Jones from her.
But there are times when my mind's clear. Completely clear. And it does not appear that I betrayed my best friend. It appears that she has, by taking things way too far, cutting me off entirely.
I place my hands on the mahogany door that must be too fancy to merely be the door to the cafeteria, close my eyes and try mentally reminding myself why I'm not some imperfect sinner who's committed a crime.
"Um, are you gonna go in or..?"
My eyes fly open and I turn around to find the voice. It's a dark haired boy I think is from a lower grade- maybe a freshman.
"Sorry. You can.. you can go in. I'll just— I'm waiting for someone."
He probably doesn't care what I have to say, offers a tight smile then steps past me into the noisy room.
Gather yourself together, Melissa. One deep breath.
Well.
Considering the amount of courage it took to finally step inside, I low key thought I'd have all eyes on me. Low key. But thankfully, no. The cafeteria's bubbling with conversations, laughter and cutlery clinking on silverware. Even the doorway is busy so much that a taller guy bumps my shoulders, doesn't apologize or notice in the first place. Reminding me to better get a seat.
I settle on a lonely table with three empty seats, and patiently wait to get attended to. Though I wish my mind or eyes could be as patient as my external demeanor is. A second hasn't passed before my thoughts are on overdrive. It's been barely a minute yet I've already gazed at every face in here. And of course settled on the infamous cheerleaders.
"Hola, mi chica favorita."
"Nadia!" I exclaim out of excitement and a bit of fear. I really need to stay in tune with reality, people just keep popping up out of nowhere. "It's been so long."
"That's because I don't serve lunch in the library." She offers a knowing smile, and I wonder just how much she knows. I don't bother asking.
"I'll have—"
"The usual?"
"Yeah. But with fries." I say as an afterthought. 'Cause if I'm now seated at a different table, I might as well get a different order.
"That's good." Nadia nods, smiling like I, instead of ordered for an addition of unhealthy fast food, had proposed an interest in joining the noble fight for world peace.
When she's gone from my side, carrying her warm motherly air away with her— though I'm pretty sure she's only at most in her late twenties— I can breathe again. I might like Nadia, a lot even, but most of the time, around her, I'm scared. Because she knew me a long time ago when I was just a freshman, came straight to the table I was at with a friendly grin and waitress apron tied round her waist. That same day we found out we, not only share the same ethnicity, but nationality too. She's Mexican. It's probably due to the fact that at age fifteen, I still always said my name in full when just the first would've been enough. That was the conversation starter.
She knew me back when the table I sat at was only occupied by two, or more if any other person decided to join my best friend and I. Long before every seat around me was taken by cheerleaders.
I guess sometimes I'm just scared she thinks the same thing I hope isn't true. That I lost myself.
Anyway.
I shake my head of all the thoughts. When I'm alone they're always bad. And around others, it's overthinking.
Speaking of others,
My table gets covered by a shadow. Raising my head to check out who's near, I find a tall body shading the flourescent light hanging off the chandeliers.
Without his uniform blazer, and white sleeves rolled up to the elbows, Tyler lowers himself to sit on a chair across from me looking unsure of himself. Something I rarely see him look to be. T might not be totally right- or at all right about Tyler being an obnoxious teenager who thinks he's better than everyone else— But he does always carry himself with an air of confidence.
And that confidence isn't very present right now.
Though he's quick to switch it up. Eyeing me whilst tonguing his cheek, I end up being the one nervous and unsure of myself.
"Hey."
"Hi." I greet back, but it has an edge. "Do you... need something?"
"No." His eyes study me and I can't help but hope there aren't any pimples on my face.
"They kinda want you to sit with us." He continues, nodding toward the back left so my eyes follow the direction. I'm met with the larger center table that's unofficially yet officially the cool jock table. There are girls there of course, some are smiling at me even— because did I mention, everyone at the table is staring at us?
However, they're also mostly seniors. All intimidating.
"No. Thanks, though."
With how uncertain he looked when he asked, I'd thought he'd expected my answer and was just forced to ask anyway.
Seems I was wrong. "No?" His thick brows knit.
"Yes. I mean, no." I pause. "It's that... I'm fine. Eating alone."
"Oh." He says, eyes flitting down to the table like he's searching for what exactly I'm eating. Just when a waitress that isn't Nadia, comes around with my order. Saying something cheesy and robotic before leaving us to ourselves.
Seeing as Tyler is weirdly affected by this, I think of an uplifting thing to say.
"Well," I drawl out. But now I'm stuck. I have nothing to add to that, and he actually seems to wait for me to complete my statement like any other person would do. Why did I open my mouth in the first place?
Finally getting the memo, sad yet a huge relief for me, Tyler gives his signature nod. Then gets up. "See you later?"
"Of course!"
Mental facepalm.
When he's back to his seat, where he belongs around all those other... people. I'm again both sad and relieved. And frozen when I find Pamela staring at me. Clearly she'd seen the whole thing because her face doesn't go sour the usual way it does, there's a slight difference to it. Hurt. Disdain. She however goes properly sour before dragging her eyes away.
If I didn't go over with Tyler, it's ten percent because It'd feel weird seated around seniors. Out of my comfort zone. Entirely.
And ninety percent not to offend Pamela even more.
But what's the point? Nothing I do will be good enough to earn forgiveness. I shouldn't be pushing Tyler away to get back Pamela when it's clear she's never going to accept me. Not today, and maybe not ever.
So even though my food hasn't turned cold, it has a bad taste in my mouth.