Chapter 1

  The rubber mat doesn't do much to dull the ache in my heels.

  “Hi, welcome to CrunchBucks, how can I make your day amazing?” I say with a ft tone and a smile that doesn’t reach my bckened eyes. “We have a thirty percent discount on our bear cws and apple fritters today.”

  “No thanks, I’ll take a medium bck ice coffee with no sugar please” the man says to the floor while digging through his wallet, finding exact change, dropping it into my hand and stepping aside.

  He’s a regur customer, comes in every Wednesday, never looks me in the eye, orders the same exact thing, and always asks me to write ‘Megatron’ on his coffee order. Every. Week. I do it because it keeps our interactions quick and effortless, he’s my absolute favorite customer.

  “Oh my god, hi Brooke! Funny running into you here!” The joke rings out like a sonic weapon designed to scatter protestors at the drop of a hat. Fshy smile, pink hoodie, cat hair, stupid round gsses. Wavy dark brown hair with that annoying bow. My nemesis.

  “Greetings Casey, would you like to try our…” my voice trails off into a mumble of apathy as I punch in Casey’s regur order. Tall strawberry frappe with extra sugar and extra whipped cream and a caramel swirl. “Go sit in the corner I’ll bring it over when I bring it over”

  “Thanks, Brooke! I have a lot of work to do on my midterm,” she pats her silver sticker-bombed ptop for emphasis “so I can’t stick around and chat today. Gotta get right to work and buckle down because it’s due really soon. Okay bye bye!”

  Oh my god I didn’t fucking ask. Casey practically skips to a table in the corner. Before I can tear my eyes away from the glitter-bomb that is Casey, she puts her hair up into a bun like she’s getting ready for surgery. A single cluster of hair dangles at the corner of her gsses like a forgotten-

  Stop. Coffee. Coffee. Sugar-bomb. Turning to the counter behind me I find all the tools of diabetic destruction. Syrups, sugars, dles the size of footballs. I start by blending bck coffee with strawberry syrup and ice, once it’s at the consistency of crushed gss in melted ice cream I add two heaping scoops of whipped cream and drizzle on a dash of caramel swirl on top. Despite my efforts my hands still end up sticky. Sticky is the worst kind of over-stimution.

  My coworker Tara takes over the register while I shuffle my way toward Casey’s table.

  “One coffee for M-…Megatron? The fuck?” Tara says from behind me. The unfortunately timed hirity forces a smile onto my face that I can’t get rid of by the time I get to Casey’s table and she looks up at me before I can remedy the situation by thinking of something horrible. The sound that emits from this woman could be cssified as a hate crime.

  “Oh my god you look so happy! I’ve never seen you smile before!” Her squealing sounds of joy combined with the sticky mess I have in my hand are just the combination needed to wipe the smile from my face and send the corners of my mouth into the basement.

  “Anything else I can get for you, ma’am?” The words are drier than coffee beans as I gre down at the tiny rainbow of a woman in front of me.

  “No I’m okay, thank you very much, ma’am.” The smile and matching giggle as she sips her diabetic hazard is sending a disgusting feeling straight to my stomach just from seeing it.

  “Good. I need a smoke break.” I mumble before turning and signaling to Tara that I’m going for a smoke.

  Eyes roll like pool balls when I see Casey still watching me. With a huff and an about face I leave the goblin to her devices and sm through the front door of the CrunchBucks. Mulch grinds under my feet like coffee grounds as I step off the designated path like the rebel I am, walk straight across the drive-thru, into my own little slice of heaven. A picnic table shaded by one rge oak tree, the sun fights through the canopy leaving twinkling beams and spots of sunlight across the picnic table. Breeze blows through the shrubbery that surrounds it, the gentle slurping sounds- what?

  My eyes open hesitantly, knowing what I’m about to witness is going to piss me off. Blood pressure preemptively spikes and I’m met with the annoyingly blue eyes of that asshole Casey.

  “No. No. No. This is my time, no customers allowed.” I bite at her presence.

  “Don’t be silly, I’m not a customer, I’m a friend.” Her words sound like sharp smiles as she sits across from me at the picnic table.

  A firm groan escapes me as I search my pockets for my cigarettes. One white cancer stick presses into my dark lips and I feel it stick to the damp flesh and stay firm. Repeated flicks of a bic lighter leave me with no heat, no fsh, no relief. Rage boils in my chest.

  Clink flick whoosh

  Casey holds out a lighter under the end of my cigarette and I lean forward and puff lightly on instinct. My back straightens and I sit upright, eyes on the dancing sunlight of the picnic table.

  “Thanks.” My words are softer and far more genuine than I’ve ever spoken to her before.

  “No problem, that’ll be ten bucks.” Her words are sharper and sarcastic, unlike I’ve ever heard from her.

  I can’t stop the ughter that burbles out from my chest at her sudden shift to sarcasm. Covering it with a cough and another drag on my cigarette, I watch Casey. She either decided it’s not worth poking at or she didn’t catch the ugh. Cigarette dangles from my lip, bck painted nails wrap around the headphones in my apron.

  “I’m going to listen to music, you can stay I guess. Just don’t… do anything Casey would do.”

  “Right-oh captain!” She gives a sloppy salute and a wink that makes my throat prickle.

  “Like that.” I say ftly as I slip my headphones onto my ears.

  A tap on my phone sends the industrial beat into my ears and likely into the world as well. The volume rattles my teeth, loud enough to guarantee deafness in my fifties. The drum drills into my mind and the smoke caresses my lungs. My head bobs subtly to the beat. The chorus arrives strong, but off, my headphones are echoing. I take off one headphone and I hear the best worst thing I’ve ever heard in my life.

  “Freaks here in this hopeless fucking hole we call L.A. - the only way to fix it is to flush it all away - “

  My soul screams at me to make her stop, to right this wrong, to crify this incongruity. Headphones slip off my head and down to my neck, volume loud enough to be shared, I can’t help but watch her as I finish my cigarette.

  “Any fucking time, any fucking day. - Learn to swim, see you down in Arizona Bay.” Casey sings beat for beat in an over the top macho growl across from me.

  Casey’s eyes gently open and nd on mine as the song pys through. Locked into a staring contest with the person I assumed was the antithesis of myself, the bubbly carefree, clingy, crazy cat dy. Heartbeats thrum against my neck as the song fades away and I tap pause on my pylist and snuff out my cigarette against the edge of the picnic table.

  “So, you like Tool?” I ask accusingly

  “Yeah, I was hoping you’d notice all the band stickers I have on my ptop and chat with me about it.” Her eyes shoot down to the shrubs behind me as she speaks. A hint of pink taints her cheeks.

  “I only ever saw the cat stickers. You’re pretty weird, you know that, right?” Heat missing from my usual insulting tone which I quickly correct. “Go back to working on your homework or whatever. I have to get back to work, loser.”

  Casey flinches just enough that makes my heart squeeze. Fuck.

  “Thanks for the light. I got a bear cw with your name on it.” I say softly, just to make up for maybe being a little too mean.

  Casey sips her too-sweet coffee and smiles around the straw and wordlessly heads back into the coffee shop and back to her table, leaving me alone at the picnic table to deal with all the new shit floating around my head.

  I try to stay calm but my heart thrums and I tear back into the coffee shop like a vibrating bulldozer and head straight to the counter. I brush past Tara and grab a bear cw from the dispy and stomp my way over to Casey’s table and- I take a deep breath before I gently set the pastry beside her ptop which, upon closer inspection has Tool and How To Destroy Angels stickers front and center. Casey tries to thank me but I’m gone before she gets the words out. Tara raises an eyebrow at me and I grunt at her before manning the register again with a scowl.

  “Welcome to CrunchBucks, what do you want?” I ask the elderly man in the sweater.

  SgathaChristie