Page 14 of The Glass Girl

“What? No, I’m fine. Just…tired. You know, school and stuff.”

“I don’t want you getting customers sick.”

“No, I’m good.”

“Why are you holding your stomach, then?”

Dammit. I slowly ease the pad away from the green chile stain.

Patty shakes her head. “You need towashyour shirt aftereveryshift, Bella. How many times have I told you?”

“A million?”

She sighs. “If it happens again, I’m going to give you another shirt and take the twenty-five dollars out of your paycheck.”

I nod, thinking of the money I had to spend for that replacement laptop. I can’t afford to lose twenty-five dollars right now.

“Go on. Maura needs tables cleared. You can take some tables around seven, okay? Until then, bus and run the register.” She turns back to the schedule sheet.

I walk by the kitchen, where Lonnie and Deb are working the grill and José is sitting on a milk crate by the dishwasher, reading a book of poetry. Sometimes when it’s not busy he’ll read everyone a poem out loud, which is kind of nice. José is even older than Patty, and I think he’s been washing dishes here since she opened the place. He looks up and smiles at me as I pass, and I smile back.

Maura’s tables are filthy and there’s already a line of people at the door waiting for clean tables so they can sit. I start clearing plates and cups and dumping them in the bus tub and wiping down tables right away. It stays pretty busy, me bussing and doing the register until seven, when it slows down and Maura goes out back for a cigarette and her dinner and Patty tells me I can take any tables that come in.

I’m at the register, sorting order slips and receipts, when the little bell above the front door tinkles.

“Welcome to Patty’s,” I call out, not looking up. “Sit where you like and I’ll be right with you.” I try to keep my voice neutral but friendly, because Patty once told me I sounded “huffy,” whatever that means.

I stack the sheets and file them neatly in the folder Patty keeps on the shelf under the register, slide my order pad out of my apron and make sure I have a pen.

And then I look up.

Dylan and Willow are sitting at B3, by the window. Tucked together on one side of the booth, holding the plastic menu between them.

Oh god no.

I panic. Turn around to face the kitchen, where Lonnie and Deb are fussing with onions and green chiles and cleaning the grill during the lull. Deb glances at me. “What’s up?”

“Is Maura still on break?”

“Yeah, she’s got fifteen left. She’s gonna eat. Why? You okay?”

I look down at the counter, at my hands, which are shaking uncontrollably. My skin feels like it’s on fire. Why would he come here? Why would he bringherhere? Isn’t this, like, in violation of the many millions of rules of breaking up, one of which isavoid each other at all costs, except when you can’t, like school, and in that case, change your daily class-to-class walking route and never make eye contact?

In the summer, he would come in after the dinner rush and order some fries and wait for me, and then we’d walk to the park and kiss. Or take a bus to a movie, and kiss in the back row. Or take the bus downtown to 191 Toole if the show wasall-ages, and kiss, the music fusing us together. My parents didn’t know. I’d say I was staying with Amber and then she’d leave her back patio door open for me. Amber didn’t like it, but she went along with it.

It felt thrilling, doing that with him, in secret. Something small and glowing and shiny that belonged only to me.

I have no choice but to take their order.

I walk to their booth slowly, gripping the pen and order pad tightly in my hands. It takes them what seems like an eternity to even notice me.

I’m not going to cry. I’m not going to cry. I’m not going to cry.

“Hey,” Dylan says. “Hey, Bella.”

His voice is neutral. Smooth. Like nothing is wrong. Like it isn’t even wrong for him to be here with another girl. I can’t look him in the eye. I look everywhere but at his face. At the menu lying flat on the table. At the table itself. At my order pad.

Willow says, “Are there red onions in the side salad? If there are, can you not put them in?”

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