Once again, I am alone at work, bored at the register. No sales today again. I glance at a tall lady passing by the window and as the hours go by, I find myself once again, picking at the scab that I‘ve had for about a week now on my knuckle. The scab came from last Thursday’s dinner when I offered to cook steak for everybody. Of course, I forgot that I am a complete ditz and that I am not good at cutting anything. Now I find myself opening up that wound for mere entertainment.
I’m still pretty new to the town so I don’t have any friends yet. I’ve only been here for about two months or so. The store is almost always empty, even on Fridays like today, and when a customer does decide to come in, they never buy anything. I’m stuck looking at my watch, seeing the minutes go by, slower than ever. 6:23 pm. I organize the shelves with the clay and plastic reusable pots along with the metal watering cans on the side for the fourth time that day since there is nothing else to do. The flower boutique closes at 8 o’clock so I patiently wait as the clock strikes 8 for my shift to come to an end. There is nothing else to do so to kill time, I end up collecting any trash I see and decide to throw out the garbage before I punch out. The bag is heavy and I don’t have much upper body strength so I tie up the bag the best I can and instead of lugging it over my shoulder, I drag it out the back door. The evening is quite calm, but there is rustling outside. Maybe it’s just the leaves blowing in the alley from the wind. I feel panicked, so I chuck the bag into the bin as quickly as I can to rush back inside the store. I make sure to lock the door and wait it out for the rest of the time being until my shift is over. After all, nobody ever came to the shop.
A little more than an hour passed and the time is now 8:01 pm. I started to feel a bit of relief since nothing had occurred, and I felt that it was safe enough to get out into the car and hurry home. Speed walking like never before, I reach my hand into my checkered handbag and desperately look for the keys so that I could get the hell out of there.
“Hey! You, with the ginger hair!” announced a voice from behind me. I turned around sharply, with both fright and curiosity,
“Huh? What can I do for you?” I asked. I felt like I was having heart palpitations, I was so scared and I made the wrong move of turning around to answer. The voice came from a young man who looked very familiar, someone who I think I’ve seen before, I just can’t quite recognize.
“You mind giving me a ride? My car broke down and I’m having a tow truck pick it up tomorrow morning, I would really appreciate it,” he said as he rubbed the sweat off his forehead. It seems he had been out there for a while since the hood of his truck was up and there was a leak from under the truck. I think he was trying to restart his battery. I don’t know anything about trucks.
And then it clicked, it’s Elijah Dagon. His father owns Dagon Meat Industries, and he also goes to the same school as me. We’ve never actually had a real conversation until now. In a way, the fear that I had began to dissolve when I saw his face because Elijah is one of the cutest boys I have seen so far in this boring old town. I didn’t think I’d ever get the opportunity to interact with him.
“Sure, why not? Get in, and put your address in the GPS if you want, I’m not all that good with street names,” I answer back. Speaking very humbly, trying to play off the excitement I was feeling. He laughed and opened the door to hop in the passenger seat.
“It’s Zeyla, right?” he questioned. He definitely knew my name since I’m the new kid but didn’t seem to want to let me know that.
“Yeah, what’s your name?” I responded. Like him, I didn’t want to make him believe that I knew who he was. He is just another stranger that desperately needed a ride.
“Elijah Dagon. We go to the same school, I think I’ve even seen you in the halls before”, he said while looking at his shoes. He was staring down at his black Converse trying to avoid eye contact with me. For an all-around well-known kid at school, he’s pretty awkward.
“Yeah probably. Did your parents tell you to find a ride?” I asked.
“Yeah, my dad is busy at the factory and my mom is out of state visiting my grandma in Kentucky, so I’m kind of desperate here” he answered. Kentucky seems like such a bland place. I have not heard about many people enjoying Kentucky and other than going downtown there, what else could you do there? Then again, here in Indiana, it’s pretty lame as well, I haven’t been fascinated by anything yet. The most interesting thing that has happened to me here has been this interaction with Elijah, and that’s saying a lot. I miss home back in California. I always had something fun to do there. Whether that was going to Lorena’s house or even just walking down to the beach with my friends Angelina, Lorena, and Mari. I wonder how they’re doing now. I haven’t talked to them since I’ve been out here.
“Well, alright.” I nodded my head and started the car. I didn’t know what else to say, because he made it seem that this was his only choice. I’m already doing him the favor of taking him home and I get a snarky response back. Whatever, I followed the directions of the GPS and played some music to kill the silence that was in the car. He reached his hand to turn down the volume.
“So how you liking Mason High so far?”
“It’s alright, I like the classes I got this semester and everyone is pretty cool” I answered.
“Yeah, how long have you been working at Flor Boutique?” he asked. It was nice that he was making conversation because the silence was getting uncomfortable.
“Just since I moved here, so about a month and a half ago. Do you work around there also or were you just shopping?” I asked, hoping that he would give me some understanding as to why he was there near the boutique.
He didn’t answer, instead, he switched the topic back to school. We spoke about the clubs we were going to join, how to get community service hours, what class we hate the most, and where our lockers were. It felt like we were almost beginning to be friends. We ran out of time to talk because his house wasn’t too far from where we were but we sat in the car for a bit.
“Thanks for giving me a ride, my car should be fixed by Monday, so if you want a ride from school, let me know. I kind of owe you one,” he said.
“Yeah, thanks,” I replied. I think I’ll take him up on that offer. He is pretty nice and I really want a friend here.
The weekend passed, and Monday came. I was walking to the buses, cutting through the library, and I saw Elijah sitting alone in the library reading a really thick book. He locked eyes with me as I walked, and he asked me if I needed a ride home. I decided to take the ride after all because my dad took my car for an oil change, and he said yes. He offered to buy me a drink at Starbucks and from there, he would drop me off at home. That’s the last I remember.
I felt like I had slept for way too long, where am I? Why am I laying in a backseat? The air through the AC vents was flowing through and the breeze was blowing in my face. My wrists felt sore and I couldn’t recall anything that had happened before I woke up here. Whose car am I in? And who is driving? I slowly started to gain strength as my consciousness became more clear. The car is still moving, slowly and in a straight line. I can hear whirring and machinery around me. The car suddenly brakes and the driver parks the car and runs out to open the door by my feet. It’s Elijah and I’m assuming that this must be his car. He quickly took me out of the backseat and untied my hands. I was very confused and dazed. Elijah was speaking but it was all a blur, I can’t understand what’s going on. I’m being carried in his arms and I’m thinking something bad happened to me. Did he get into an accident? Am I the only one that got hurt? My vision was beginning to decipher where we were as it was very cold. Elijah put me down on the floor and my cheek felt like it was being frozen into the ground. I see two feet in front of me and I see that it’s the same black and white Converse Elijah wore the day I picked him up. I hear distant footsteps coming closer to the place we are in but I can’t process or think about where we could be. I felt eyes staring at me and I was beginning to think that the bad had not yet begun.
“Here, Dad. Maybe this will sell well”.