Sonic

2,127 words - teen fiction

I want to get out of here. I need to get out of here. It's almost midnight, and the roller-skaters haven't even brought out my half-price shake yet. I should not have come.

Squished next to me on the plastic bench, a girl I met one dollar theatre movie ago laughs right in my ear, her eyes wide and her mouth gaping.

I wince, trying to shift away from her, but that makes me bump into Smith sitting on my right. I look at the door to the fast food restaurant, willing the waiters to hurry. There are eleven of us, all mushed up next to each other around a table that was only ever meant to seat eight. Three to a bench on each side of the table, except for the one couple, which makes no sense, since she is basically sitting in his lap. I guess no one wanted to get too close to that much PDA.

The girl on my left talks again, leaning around me to look at Smith. "I just have to go up that trail. I really have to. I think I'll just die if I don't." She puts her hand on the table in front of her for emphasis.

I can't remember her name. Maybe she never told me what it was.

Smith shifts and our knees bump. The girl on my left sees through all those little diamond shaped holes in the table top, and she shifts even closer to me, her rib cage digging into the tabletop, like if she squashes me enough, I'll disappear. I hunch my shoulders, sinking deeper into my hoodie and press my knees together. I feel trapped.

The dollar movie was enough to fill my socializing quota for the week and keep my mom off my case about having no friends. I don't know what I thought would happen, sitting here in the tepid early summer night, slurping shakes afterward. Or waiting to slurp a shake in my case. I didn't have to come. I think I had some idea about laughing, and montages, and music. I had an idea about happiness. Stupid.

The other people at our cramped table are talking about the movie we just saw. I try to focus on their conversation instead, but then this girl laughs again. My hand twitches as I fight the urge to cover my ear.

"But I just can't go up there by myself," she says. "You know? A girl all alone in the mountains. And I just have to go at sunset. Anything could happen." She looks across me at Smith. Her hair is pulled back in an excessively high ponytail.

I lean back to give her a better view of Smith, even though there is no back support so my abs have to clench to keep my upright.

Smith digs a spoonful of shake out of his styrofoam cup. "Hmm."

"So," a girl across the table says, resting her elbows in front of her. "Have any of you ever gone faster than the speed of sound?"

I get the joke in her question. "I have," I say. "My uncle is a pilot, and one time-"

"Yeah, me neither," the girl across the table says. And I realize everyone else has shaken their heads.

"I've gone faster than the speed of sound," I say again. "It was-"

"Wait!" The girl on my left slaps the table with both hands.  "Oh, wait. This is brilliant!" She claps her hands together once, like an over enthusiastic yoga instructor. "I just remembered. You have rock climbing experience, don't you, Smith?"

"What?" Smith asks.

"I think it would be really cool, though." The girl across the table pokes her pinky into one of the diamond holes and her finger gets stuck for a second. "I wonder what it's like."

"It's really cool," I say. "You get this weird feeling-"

"Rock climbing experience," the girl on my left says. "You do that all the time, right, Smith?" She stretches a smile at him.

"Oh, yeah," Smith says. "Sometimes."

"Then you should come with me!" She leans in front of me to try and bat his shoulder, then realizes she is too far away. Her eyes flick at me.

I duck my head, letting my dark hair fill in the edges of my hoodie.

"It will be great!" she says.

"Yeah," Smith says, looking at his shake instead of her. "Hey." He turns to the guy sitting next to him. Tom, I think. "I got some new computer monitors set up in my room. Nine of them. They're all hooked up together, three by three, so it's like one giant screen."

"Dude," Tom says. "That's-"

"Oh my gosh!" The girl on my left cuts in. "Nine monitors! That's crazy! I have to see this! Like, tonight. I have to see this tonight. As soon as we're done here, I'm coming over." She looks at him, like she's asking for permission. When he doesn't say anything, she pulls her lips into a smile again. "Yeah. I'm coming over tonight to see your room. I just have to see this. I think I'll die if I don't."

Smith grunts and gets up to throw away his empty shake container. Mine still hasn't arrived.

But I see the opportunity to make a bid for freedom. Mumbling about checking on my shake, not that anyone would hear me anyway, I make a break for it.

When the slider on the stall door clicks into place, I let my breath out. I want to hide there until they have all gone home. Until ponytail has made her way into Smith's room and probably pinned him against the wall for a make out session. Until they all forget I was even there and drive off without me. It shouldn't take long.

I wait twenty minutes. I don't even care about the shake. They can keep their dollar fifty. My mom will be happy to give me more socializing money.

When I emerge, ponytail girl is standing at the mirror. I try to duck back into the stall, but she sees me in the reflection and whirls.

"I know what you're doing," she says, pointing a finger at me. "I know what this is all about. I see right through your little emo act with the hair and the hoodie and the mascara."

I'm not actually wearing any mascara. "What am I doing?" I ask.

She doesn't lower her finger, like it's a gun that will make me stay put. "Don't think you'll get away with this. Don't think that just because you get to mope and look all innocent and pitiful, it will make him feel sorry for you."

"Oh." I really don't know what she sees in Smith. He's an okay guy I guess, all limbs and height, with a tiny bulge for a stomach, the only width to him.

"So keep your hands off."

"I didn't think I was putting my hands on him," I said.

She takes one step toward me, and slaps me, openhanded, across the face.

We stare at each other. Her eyes are wide again, trying to look menacing, I guess. But all I see in them in desperation. I don't know why she wants this guy. Maybe it's not even him she wants. Maybe she just wants a guy period. I have no clue.

I realize I am taller than her, since I suddenly become aware of how hunched I am, like I'm trying to be small. We are at eye level, but if I straightened up, I could look over the top of her head easy. And she's in heels.

Who wears heels to the dollar theatre?

She's still staring at me, and I realize she doesn't know what the next line is. She came in here all prepped to fight the competition. She had planned to slap me, even before I came out of that stall. It didn't matter what I said. She didn't even hear the words that came out of my mouth. She had geared herself up for a scene and was going to play it out no matter what.

Though, I guess she was expecting a slap or something in return, because now she's looking like I've thrown everything off.

She is so tense, so defensive. So desperate. She doesn't want Smith. Not really. If a Mexican named Eduardo swooped into this restroom and snatched her away to a fancy restaurant where he proclaimed his love and showered her in rose petals, she would be just as happy. Probably happier. She would take anything right now. She just wants someone to care.

"Look," I say.

And she raises her hand to slap me again, like we are back to her script and she's going to have to take me down.

I raise my hands to show surrender. "Smith is a great guy."

She narrows her eyes.

"And I think you guys would be a good couple."

Her eyes don't change, but she lowers her hand a little. "Yeah?" Her voice is wary.

"Yes." I'm not sure what to say next. "If you want to date him that badly, go for it." She doesn't need the advice, obviously, but I don't want to fight. "I'm not going to stand in your way. Sorry about the seating mix up at that table. I didn't mean to get between you two. I mean, like I said, Smith is great, but, he's not my type. Like, really not my type."

"Oh..." Her mouths makes the shape of the word and stays that way for a minute. She looks me up and down and takes a step back.

I laugh. "Not like that! I just like buffer guys. Guys with more build, you know? I'd like a guy who could pull off a dip without dropping me."

"So you don't like Smith?" She asks this like it is the most baffling question.

I shake my head.

"Really?" Her hand is by her side now. She lets out her breath. Then she gives a shaky laugh, still not sure if I'm telling the truth.

"You should invite him to hang out with your friends sometime," I say. "Give him time to get to know you. I don't think he's ever had a girlfriend before, so you'll have to teach him the ropes."

"Yeah..." She furrows her brow. "Actually, I just moved here. So, I don't have quite that many friends. Yet." Another nervous laugh.

"Oh." That's why I haven't met her before.

We stand there in the silence. I shift my weight, and flip my bangs out of my eyes. I keep my hand at my side, even though my cheek is stinging and cold fingers would feel great on it right now.

"We should get some girls together and do something," I say. "So you can make more friends. Let everyone get to know you."

She crosses her arms, and contemplates this like she can't quite figure out if it's a trick or not.

"The girls out there were talking about going faster than the speed of sound."

She looks confused.

"Like in a sonic jet," I say. "Because we're at this restaurant, you know."

Her forehead clears. "Yeah," she says, pretending like she got it all along.

"And I have an uncle who only lives like an hour away. He's a pilot and he's taken me up in a super sonic jet before. We should all go sometime. It's pretty cool."

She bites her lip. "Okay. Yeah, that'd be fun." She holds out her hand. "I'm Sonya. Kind of sounds like Sonic, now that I think about it..."

I look at her hand for a second.

"We're going to be friends, right?" she asks.

I blink. "Right. Okay." I put out my own hand and we shake. "I'm Emily."

She bites her lip. "And, sorry about your cheek."

"Oh, don't worry," I say, glancing past her and into the mirror. The side of my face is bright red. "It doesn't hurt." This is a lie, but I don't want to insult my new sort-of friend.

We stand there for another awkward second.

"So, shouldn't you be out there flirting with a certain someone?" I ask.

She give a high nervous laugh. "It's so hard! I get so flustered around him."

I don't say anything, because a second lie wouldn't be the best foundation for our friendship. Instead I push open the bathroom door.

"But first," she says, marching past me, "we've got to invite everyone to go up in your uncle's super sonic jet."

I blink and almost walk into the glass door. "What?"

"Your uncle. We're still doing that, right?"

"Oh. Right." I shove open the glass door to the tepid outdoors, but I don't feel like running anymore. I kind of feel like smiling. For the first time tonight, someone actually heard me.

Read the sequel, Pink. 

(photo curtesy of Slgckgc)