tight.
Justin slammed down the phone and resumed his stony silence. My iPhone was clinging to life with less than ten percent battery left. I couldn’t decide if my phone dying would be a blessing or a curse. I was driving myself nuts checking the slow-moving time so often. Then again, with nothing but Mr. Stone Wall over there, I might go stir-crazy.
Unable to handle sitting there doing nothing, I emptied the contents of my oversized bag onto the floor. It had been ages since my purse had a good purge. A bottle of water rolled across the floor, stopping near Justin’s foot. Ignoring his stare, I grabbed the bottle and set it on end so it wouldn’t roll away again. I methodically sorted through months of old movie ticket stubs, receipts, and loose change that for some reason never made it to the small change purse that I also found among the other items. I hit the jackpot when I discovered a mini package of peanut M&Ms one of my students had given me before I left and a handful of peppermints I had snagged from my boss’s office last week. At the bottom of my bag, I also found a couple of ideas that I had jotted down on a Post-it for my friend Ashton. She was relatively new to Woodfalls, but Tressa and I had hit it off with her right away. Her only quirk was the crazy bucket list of things she wanted to do. It seemed odd, but she said it was research for a thesis paper. Tressa and I suspected there was more to it than that. Of course, Tressa’s idea that maybe Ashton was some kind of closet adrenaline junkie was different from my theory. My suspicion was that the list was because of something much more serious. I hoped to God I was wrong.
“Why do girls carry so much shit in their bags?” Justin asked, taking in the piles of stuff I had sorted in front of me.
“Oh, hi. Are you talking to me again?” I asked sarcastically. I was sick of him treating me like a yo-yo. One minute he was cordial enough to hold a conversation with, and the next he was a raving lunatic.
“I don’t know. I’m trying here, okay?” he said, running his hand through his hair.
“Yeah, well, so am I. So if you could hold off using me like a verbal punching bag until I can escape from this hellhole, I’d appreciate it. You’re not the only one who was hurt.” It bothered me that he seemed to forget everything that had transpired.
His teeth came together with a snap, but he didn’t comment. While he mulled over my words, I continued cleaning out my bag.
“What’s in those little bottles?” he finally asked, eyeing the seven mini bottles of hand sanitizer I had unearthed.
“Hand sanitizer,” I admitted, seeing the proof of my OCD.
“And you need seven bottles, why?” he asked.
I shrugged my shoulders. “Beats the heck out of me. I guess I’m always afraid of not having one when I need it, so I buy a new one every time I go to the mall. I guess I have enough.” I smiled, even though it felt slightly forced. I didn’t offer up the fact that I also had a basket of them sitting on the dresser in my room.
“Mint?” I asked, tossing him one of the cellophane-wrapped candies.
“Old mints from the depths of your purse. What are you, my grandma? Thanks,” he said, pulling off the wrapper and popping the mint into his mouth.
“Hey, they have like a hundred-year shelf life. How’s the art?” I finally asked, since we seemed to be on a tentative truce.
“It’s good. I do a lot of freelance stuff. That job at the hospital that you convinced me I should charge for snowballed into more jobs than I could handle. I guess I owe you a thanks,” he said, looking dismayed at the idea of giving me credit for anything.
“I’m glad it worked out. You’re an amazing artist and should be treated as such.”
“What about you? Did you get your degree in elementary education?”
“Yep. I’m working part-time at the school in Woodfalls, mostly subbing until a full-time opening becomes available.”
“Still scaring the
Justin slammed down the phone and resumed his stony silence. My iPhone was clinging to life with less than ten percent battery left. I couldn’t decide if my phone dying would be a blessing or a curse. I was driving myself nuts checking the slow-moving time so often. Then again, with nothing but Mr. Stone Wall over there, I might go stir-crazy.
Unable to handle sitting there doing nothing, I emptied the contents of my oversized bag onto the floor. It had been ages since my purse had a good purge. A bottle of water rolled across the floor, stopping near Justin’s foot. Ignoring his stare, I grabbed the bottle and set it on end so it wouldn’t roll away again. I methodically sorted through months of old movie ticket stubs, receipts, and loose change that for some reason never made it to the small change purse that I also found among the other items. I hit the jackpot when I discovered a mini package of peanut M&Ms one of my students had given me before I left and a handful of peppermints I had snagged from my boss’s office last week. At the bottom of my bag, I also found a couple of ideas that I had jotted down on a Post-it for my friend Ashton. She was relatively new to Woodfalls, but Tressa and I had hit it off with her right away. Her only quirk was the crazy bucket list of things she wanted to do. It seemed odd, but she said it was research for a thesis paper. Tressa and I suspected there was more to it than that. Of course, Tressa’s idea that maybe Ashton was some kind of closet adrenaline junkie was different from my theory. My suspicion was that the list was because of something much more serious. I hoped to God I was wrong.
“Why do girls carry so much shit in their bags?” Justin asked, taking in the piles of stuff I had sorted in front of me.
“Oh, hi. Are you talking to me again?” I asked sarcastically. I was sick of him treating me like a yo-yo. One minute he was cordial enough to hold a conversation with, and the next he was a raving lunatic.
“I don’t know. I’m trying here, okay?” he said, running his hand through his hair.
“Yeah, well, so am I. So if you could hold off using me like a verbal punching bag until I can escape from this hellhole, I’d appreciate it. You’re not the only one who was hurt.” It bothered me that he seemed to forget everything that had transpired.
His teeth came together with a snap, but he didn’t comment. While he mulled over my words, I continued cleaning out my bag.
“What’s in those little bottles?” he finally asked, eyeing the seven mini bottles of hand sanitizer I had unearthed.
“Hand sanitizer,” I admitted, seeing the proof of my OCD.
“And you need seven bottles, why?” he asked.
I shrugged my shoulders. “Beats the heck out of me. I guess I’m always afraid of not having one when I need it, so I buy a new one every time I go to the mall. I guess I have enough.” I smiled, even though it felt slightly forced. I didn’t offer up the fact that I also had a basket of them sitting on the dresser in my room.
“Mint?” I asked, tossing him one of the cellophane-wrapped candies.
“Old mints from the depths of your purse. What are you, my grandma? Thanks,” he said, pulling off the wrapper and popping the mint into his mouth.
“Hey, they have like a hundred-year shelf life. How’s the art?” I finally asked, since we seemed to be on a tentative truce.
“It’s good. I do a lot of freelance stuff. That job at the hospital that you convinced me I should charge for snowballed into more jobs than I could handle. I guess I owe you a thanks,” he said, looking dismayed at the idea of giving me credit for anything.
“I’m glad it worked out. You’re an amazing artist and should be treated as such.”
“What about you? Did you get your degree in elementary education?”
“Yep. I’m working part-time at the school in Woodfalls, mostly subbing until a full-time opening becomes available.”
“Still scaring the
Similar Books
