Babs?

She talks about her boyfriend a lot. Buster. How he's always calling, always texting. How, after school, she wants to slip out through the band room with me just to avoid bumping into him. He'll be waiting for her by the flagpole, and like there's nothing wrong with that, per se, but shit-Jesus.

We'll hang low at your place, howzat?
My place?
Yeah, your place.
You don't want to go to my place.
Pluckyyy! 'Course I do! How long've we been friends fer?
I don't know. Since, like, last marking period?
Pfft! If by last marking period you mean, like, six years—
Where do you get six years?
Side issue! Point is, I've never been to your crib, yo, and we've gotta hide out somewhere!

Wendy's, that's where.

Starts raining as soon as we hop out of the car. She screams like it's really that bad and hurtles past me straight into the pull-door, trying to push it.

Trying to push it.

"Soaked," she mutters, "fucking soaked," once we're both safely inside.

With her thumbs she stretches out the hem of her teeshirt. Looks dry from where I'm standing, but she glares at me like it's ruined. Like it's at least partially my fault.

Ugh. Sometimes…

What're you getting?
I dunno, but I'm flippin starvin. Like Marvin.
Me too. You like spicy food?
I love spicy food.
Hot Cheetos don't count.
I didn't saaay Hot Cheetos, Plucky.
Bet you couldn't eat that whole… Four-Alarm Spicy Chicken Sandwich?
You bet? How much?
How much? It was a figure of speech.
You buy it, I'll eat it. Howzat?

She picks out a table, the one closest to the window. Outside gray rain soaks the sidewalk. We're the only ones in the place.

I ordered the Double. Even offered to trade if she couldn't take the heat. But like that wasn't funny, Plucky. That wasn't funny at all.

I sit watching her tear open the wrapper, getting sauce all over her fingers. The way she does it, it's like she thinks she's being cute. Messy. Proud of it. Eating like a boy, or whatever.

She takes a bite. She takes another bite.

Eyes.

What do you think?
It's hot.
How hot?
Not that hot.
Sure you don't wanna trade?
Nuh-uh. I'm good. Ain't no thang but a chicken wang.
Yeah, well, don't say I didn't—

Her phone lights up, shuddering violently across the table. Ringtone is a chintzy pop-rap song: "Are we livin in vain? Are we livin in pain? Girl, remember my—"

"Hell-o?"
—It's him. Has to be.
"Hey, babe." Buster, she mouths at me. "Where am I? Shit, nowhere. Just hangin out."
—Bad.
"With who?"
—Bad. Really bad.
"Uh, you know. Shirley. Fifi. The goyles."
—Ooo, the goyles. Nice save.
"You waited for me? D'aww, that's so sweet. I'll make it up to you."
—She'll make it up to him.
"Whaddya mean where am I? Didn't I just—?"
—Shirley's? Fifi's?
"We're at Wendy's, okay? The one on West Main."
—Or that.
"Yep. Uh-huh. No, don't worry about it, babe. I'll call you later. Love you too. Yep. Buh-bye."

She hangs up, letting a huge windy sigh out through her teeth. I chew my french fries.

What, Plucky?
I didn't say anything.
You wanted to.
I dunno. Guess I just don't see what the big deal is.
The big deal? What're you talking about?
Buster, he's not a bad guy. We've been buds since—
What? Last marking period?
Nooo, like second grade.
It's not that he's a bad guy. He's just too… relationshippy.
Relationshippy.
And for someone like me, someone who's not used to, like, giving a shit…

Bzzzzzt. My phone ringing this time.

"It gets fucking annoying, okay? You wouldn't understand."

Reaching into my back pocket, "Sorry I brought it up." Buster's calling. Again. Flip the screen around so she can see.

"Well," shrug, "answer it."

"What do I say?"

Shrug. "You'll think of something." Shrug.

Think of something? Think of something what?

Click.

"Hey, uh, Buster?"

"Plucky!" he sounds excited. "What. are. you. doing. right. now?"

"Right now? Nothing. Nothing really. Playing Dark Souls. SL1 PVP, that's all."

Babs looks lost.

"Extreme," Buster says, probably nodding. "Pyromancy?"

"No pyromancy, no poise, no Dark Wood Grain Ring, no blocking."

"Extreeeeeme," definitely nodding. "In that case, I s'pose a roadtrip would be out of the question."

"Roadtrip? What kind?"

"Just to Wendy's. Not far. The one on West Main."

Shit.

Babs, she's sitting sideways, back arched, legs crossed, one hand cradling her cheek. All she's missing is the cigarette. The fuck couldn't she finish her lie?

"Y'know, Wendy's?" Buster says after a while. "The fast food joint?"

"You, uh… you hungry or something?"

"No… Well, yeah, but that's beside the point." I can hear him shifting the phone to his other ear. His other long blue ear. "Babs skipped out on me after school. I just got off the phone with her. Said she's at Wendy's with Fifi and Shirley."

"You gonna, like, pop in and surprise her?"

"That's the plan."

The plan. "What do you need me for?"

"I dunno. Shirley's there. Thought you might wanna tag along."

"Right. Tag along. Totally. It's just… I'm, like," think fast, "kinda live streaming right now, sooo…" Shrug.

"Sounds like I'm flying solo then."

"Huh?"

"I said it sounds like I'm flying solo."

Why wouldn't he just…? "Uhhh… okay. Good luck?"

"Yeah, see you tomorrow."

Right.
—Yep.
Okay.
—Bye.
See ya.
—Cool.
Tomorrow?
—Yep.
Okay.
—Bye.
See ya.
—Bye.

Click.

Babs isn't going to finish that sandwich. She was never going to finish that sandwich. Five bucks says she isn't going to finish that sandwich.

So… what was that all about?
Weren't you listening?
I don't know what SL1 PVP means.
No, that's—
What? Some kinda secret cooooode?
He's on his way. Right now.
Who?
Buster!
He's coming?
Popping in.

She grabs my burger and fries and dumps them on the tray together with her own leftovers, then folds over the placemat and rolls the whole thing up like a burrito.

"Let's go," she says, grabbing her purse.

Hard to read her face. Big eyes, tight lips. Not happy, not mad. Maybe a little excited?

Go? Where?
Your place.
Bad idea.
You got a better one?

I could try, but she's already dragging me outside, back out through the door that gave her so much trouble, back out into the rain.