Tuesday, February 22, 2005 (Mike) The next morning rolled in cold and misty, the kind of gray Washington morning that made most people want to crawl back under their blankets and pretend school didn’t exist.
But not me.
No, I was wide awake, wired, and mentally preparing myself to be laughed at.
I pulled into Tyler’s driveway like usual, honked once, and waited.
My fingers drummed nervously against the steering wheel while my leg bounced nonstop under the dashboard.
I was pretty sure I’d already burned through half my daily supply of courage just getting out of bed.
A moment later, Tyler stepped out of the house with his backpack slung over one shoulder and a banana in hand.
“Morning,” he said as he opened the passenger door.
He handed me his crutches before awkwardly climbing into the seat.
“Hey,” I answered, trying, and completely failing, not to sound like a squirrel on espresso.
We drove in silence for a few minutes.
I kept glancing at the clock, at the road, at the sky, mentally calculating and recalculating the timing of my impending stupidity.
When we pulled into the school parking lot, Tyler unbuckled and reached for the door… then froze.
“Dude,” he said slowly, turning toward me.
“Why aren’t you getting out?” He stared at me like I’d suddenly turned into a hologram.
I swallowed hard.
“Okay, so… remember that girl I told you about?” My voice cracked halfway through the sentence.
Fantastic.
Real smooth.
Tyler’s eyebrows climbed.
“Leah?
Yeah.
What about her?” I exhaled through my nose and gripped the steering wheel harder, like it might somehow steer this conversation for me.
“I, uh… kinda forgot to ask for her number.” Tyler blinked once, then slowly shook his head with the disappointment of a father whose son had just eaten glue.
“Of course you did.” “And,” I rushed on before I lost the nerve entirely, “I know where she works.
And if I don’t go now, right now, I’m gonna chicken out and spend the rest of my life wondering what could’ve happened.
So…” I gestured helplessly toward the road.
“I’m going.
To the rez.
To get that number.” Tyler stared at me for a long second.
Then he grinned like I’d just announced I was joining a secret superhero organization.
“Dude,” he said, smacking my shoulder approvingly.
“Go get that girl.” I blinked.
“You think?” “Bro,” he said confidently, “you GOT this.
Seriously.
Just don’t overthink it like you always do.
Drive there, say hi, don’t act weird, just be yourself.” He paused.
“Actually, no, don’t be yourself.
Then you’ll be fine.
Easy peasy.” “Right,” I muttered.
“Easy.
Totally easy.
Asking a beautiful, terrifying girl for her number after being nearly shot by her coworker yesterday.
Piece of cake.” Tyler burst out laughing and pushed the door open.
“You were almost shot?” he repeated.
“Man, you gotta tell me that story later.
Assuming you survive this one too.” He hopped out, grabbed his crutches, then leaned back through the open door one last time.
“Text me if she says yes,” he said with a grin.
“Then we’ll grab burgers later.
My treat.” With that, he slammed the door shut and hobbled off toward school.
I inhaled deeply, braced myself, and turned the key in the ignition.
… The drive to La Push somehow felt shorter than yesterday.
Probably because my stomach had relocated somewhere near my lungs and was busy squeezing the life out of me.
By the time I pulled up near the little marina-side grocery store, the sun was barely more than a rumor hiding behind the clouds.
I parked, grabbed the steering wheel tightly, and exhaled.
“Alright,” I muttered to myself.
“You do this now or you never do it.” Then I stepped out of the car.
The sign on the front door read: OPEN – 9:00 AM And beneath it, written in smaller handwritten letters: Don’t knock.
We hear you.
I checked my phone.
7:53 AM.
“…Cool,” I whispered.
“Great.
Perfect timing, Mike.” So I waited.
And paced.
And waited.
And paced harder.
Sidewalk.
Gravel.
Door.
Sidewalk.
Gravel.
Door.
Over and over again like some desperate NPC trapped in a loop.
My palms kept sweating.
My breath fogged in the cold air.
Every passing car made me flinch like it might be the old lady arriving for Round Two with the shotgun.
I even started giving myself quiet pep talks under my breath, soft enough not to bother anyone, but apparently loud enough for a squirrel across the street to stare at me judgmentally.
By 8:50, I felt like I’d aged seven years.
“Come on, Mike,” I muttered.
“You can do this.
Don’t chicken out.
Just ask for the number.
Easy.
Easy-ish.
Sorta.” Right then, I heard a soft snort behind me, followed by a muffled laugh and I froze.
Like, physically froze.
“Mike?” Leah’s voice sounded amused, confused, and dangerously entertained all at once.
“What are you doing here this early?” she asked.
“Don’t you have school?” The horrifying realization that she had absolutely heard my self-pep-talk hit me instantly.
I wanted to walk directly into the ocean.
Slowly, mechanically, I turned around while my brain flipped through possible responses like a Rolodex on fire.
Say something cool.
Say something normal.
Say literally anything.
I raised one hand in what I think was supposed to be a greeting, though it probably looked more like a malfunctioning windshield wiper, and said: “Yo.” YO.
Out of every word in the English language, that was apparently the one my brain selected.
… Leah blinked once.
Then twice.
Slowly.
Like her brain was buffering.
“…Yo?” she repeated, eyebrows climbing her forehead.
I opened my mouth, hoping an explanation might somehow fall out.
Nothing happened.
At this point my soul had already left my body and was standing near the door judging me silently.
Leah’s lips twitched.
“Wow,” she said.
“And here I was thinking I was the awkward one.” “I… I can explain,” I lied.
I absolutely could not explain.
“Please do,” she said, folding her arms.
She didn’t sound annoyed at all.
Just deeply amused.
The look she was giving me made me want to dig a hole and live in it forever.
I gestured vaguely at the sky, the closed store, and the empty street.
“I’m cold?” “That explains yo?” “No,” I admitted miserably, lowering my head.
Leah snorted loudly, trying and failing not to laugh.
Then she brushed a strand of dark hair behind her ear and shook her head.
“You know,” she said, “I was actually worried I’d mess up and say something stupid when we met again.” “Oh, don’t worry,” I said immediately.
“I handled that for both of us.” That finally got a real smile out of her, and suddenly my dignity didn’t feel quite so dead anymore.
“Well,” I said, glancing toward the storefront, “since we’re apparently stuck out here until nine…” I pretended to check an invisible watch.
“Plenty of time to pretend that never happened.” “Not a chance,” she replied instantly.
“I’m keeping yo forever.” I groaned dramatically.
“Can’t you just forget it?
I’m begging you.” “No,” she said, nudging my arm lightly with her elbow.
“Not a chance in hell.” Then she smirked.
“Now, how about we go inside so you can tell me what you came for?” “And how exactly are we getting in?” I asked, looking suspiciously at the locked door.
“Psychic powers?” Leah rolled her eyes, pulled out a ring of keys, and waved them at me.
“I work here, genius.” “Oh.
Right.” The lock clicked open, and she pushed the door inward with her shoulder.
Inside, the store was dim except for the faint glow of a coffee machine humming somewhere in the back room.
The air smelled faintly like salt, cardboard, and fresh bread.
Leah flicked on the lights and leaned against the counter with her arms crossed, instantly adopting the universal posture of someone preparing to tease another human being mercilessly.
“Alright,” she said.
“Talk.
Why did you skip school to come see me?
Did you miss me that much?” Her tone was light and teasing.
And somehow, miraculously, that flipped my brain back on instead of frying it completely.
“Oho,” I said dramatically, placing a hand over my chest like I’d just been struck by Cupid’s bargain-bin arrow.
“Yes.
I missed you terribly.
It’s been a whole day since I last saw you.
I feared my heart might explode if I didn’t see you again soon enough.” Leah blinked, then laughed softly, clearly caught off guard.
“Wow,” she said.
“Your charm really did reboot.” I exhaled theatrically in relief.
“Thank God.
For a minute there I thought the warranty had expired.” “You still said yo,” she reminded me.
“That was the pre-reboot version,” I explained.
“Buggy release.
Very unstable.” Leah shook her head, smiling as she headed toward the back room to drop off her backpack.
“Uh-huh.
Sure.
Wait here.” A minute later she returned and moved behind the counter, flipping on the register.
“Alright, charmer,” she said.
“What actually brought you here?” I approached the counter with my hands shoved into my jacket pockets, trying very hard not to look like a man whose soul kept attempting to escape through his mouth.
“Oh, well…” I started.
Then my throat tightened immediately.
Fantastic.
Emotional honesty.
My favorite boss fight.
I scratched the back of my neck and stared very intently at a nearby display of canned peaches.
“Yesterday I was thinking about you,” I admitted, “and I suddenly had this overwhelming urge to text you.
About literally anything.
Weather.
Socks.
Quantum physics.
Whatever.” Leah paused and stared at me.
I groaned and covered my face with both hands.
“And I’d already pulled out my phone before I remembered…” “That you never asked for my number,” she finished, a small smile tugging at her lips.
I nodded miserably.
“Turns out that’s… kind of important.” Leah leaned against the counter again, her expression softer now.
“So you drove all the way here,” she said slowly, “skipped school… just to fix that?” I shrugged helplessly.
“My brain said wait until the weekend.
My heart said that was a dumb idea.” Her smile widened slightly.
“And which one do you usually listen to?” “Historically?” I sighed.
“The dumb one.” Leah laughed again, warm and genuine, and I swear my spine briefly turned into soup.
Then she looked at me intently for a moment, and something in her expression softened.
“…I’m glad you came,” she said quietly.
She blinked immediately afterward, like she’d surprised herself by saying it out loud, and quickly cleared her throat.
Before I could completely combust, she pulled out her phone and held it toward me.
“Alright,” she said casually.
“Let’s exchange numbers before you have another emotional crisis.” I fumbled for my own phone, fingers weirdly shaky, and we traded contacts.
I added a little star next to her name.
I wasn’t subtle, but I wasn’t trying to be.
When we finished, Leah slipped her phone back into her pocket.
“There,” she said.
“Now you can text me about socks or quantum physics whenever you want.” “Oh good,” I replied.
“Because I have an alarming number of sock-related opinions.” She snorted.
Then I remembered something.
“Oh, by the way…” I said.
“I actually came by yesterday too.” Leah’s eyebrows shot up.
“You did?” “Oh yeah,” I said solemnly.
“And the old lady at the counter almost shot me for being a creep.” Leah burst out laughing so hard she had to brace herself against the counter.
“Yup,” she wheezed.
“That sounds exactly like Nora.” “Oh thank God,” I said.
“I thought she genuinely hated me.” “No,” Leah replied, waving dismissively.
“Don’t take it personally.
There was… an incident a few months ago, and she’s been paranoid ever since.” I leaned slightly closer.
“Incident?” Leah sighed and hopped up onto the edge of the counter, legs swinging lightly.
“Some guy from the rez heard I was single again,” she explained.
“Decided that meant he had a chance.
Started following me around, hanging outside my shifts, making comments.
Real prince charming.” My jaw tightened instantly.
“Ugh.
What a creep.” “Yeah,” Leah agreed.
“Then one day he cornered me here while I was stocking shelves in the back and got way too pushy.” I stiffened.
“Did he…” “He didn’t get far,” she interrupted, sounding more amused now.
“Because Nora saw it.” A grin tugged at her lips.
“And Nora being Nora, she grabbed the shotgun from under the counter and screamed at him to get the hell out.” I blinked.
“Wait.
Was it actually loaded?” “Oh, absolutely loaded,” Leah said proudly.
“And she fully intended to use it too.
Right there in aisle three.
Next to the canned soup.” I stared at her.
“And the creep?” “Paul?” Leah snorted.
“He hasn’t shown his face in the store since.” I paused.
“…Paul?” I repeated slowly.
“Yeah.
Paul Lahote.” “Oh.” I nodded seriously.
“Cool.
Great.
Totally deserved then.
That guy has an incredibly punchable face.” Leah laughed again.
Right then, the bell above the front door chimed sharply.
I jumped so hard I nearly left the ground.
Nora walked inside bundled in a heavy coat, gray hair tied back tightly and sharp eyes immediately locking onto me.
She paused.
Looked at me.
Looked at Leah.
Then looked back at me again.
“Well,” she said flatly, “good to see you weren’t lying yesterday, kid.” I attempted a laugh, but it came out sounding like a dying office chair.
“Yep,” I squeaked.
“See?
Totally real person.
Not a creep.
Just… a guy.
A normal guy.
Doing normal guy things.” Nora stared at me without blinking.
Then she turned calmly toward Leah.
“If he tries anything funny,” she said, “you tell me and I’ll sort him out myself.” To my everlasting shame, I instinctively saluted.
“No funny business,” I blurted.
“None whatsoever.
Zero.
Not even a molecule of funny.” Behind me, Leah made a choking noise trying not to laugh.
I glanced at my wrist despite not wearing a watch and widened my eyes dramatically.
“Oh wow,” I said.
“If I leave right now, I might actually make it to history before the apocalypse.” I slowly backed toward the door like a man retreating from an active landmine.
“I’ll, uh… text you later,” I told Leah.
Her smile softened.
“Okay,” she said.
“Drive safe, Mike.” “Will do!” I nearly tripped over absolutely nothing on my way out.
… Leah watched through the window as Mike practically scurried toward his car like a startled woodland animal fleeing a predator.
Nora shook her head slowly.
“That boy runs like he’s guilty of something.” Leah laughed quietly under her breath.
“Yeah,” she admitted.
“I noticed.
It’s kind of cute, honestly.” Nora was just about to head toward the stockroom when something outside caught her attention.
“Lord above…” she muttered.
Leah followed her gaze.
Out in the parking lot, Mike had barely closed the Mountaineer’s door before launching into a full-body celebration.
He pumped both fists into the air, threw his head back triumphantly, and did a completely silent yell at the roof of his car like he’d just won the Super Bowl.
Then he checked his phone, saw Leah’s contact saved there, and immediately started doing another tiny victory dance in the driver’s seat.
Nora folded her arms slowly, looking deeply exhausted by teenage boys as a species.
“That boy,” she declared, “is an idiot.” Leah watched him for another second before smiling softly to herself.
“Yeah,” she said quietly.
“I know.” …