Page 3 of Owen Gardner is Losing It

“Yeah, and?” Xander forced out a laugh. “Who gives a fuck about prom?”

“I might ask Lena,” I said, accepting the joint from Abigail’s extended hand. “But I don’t know.”

Lena Brower was on the science academic team with me, and we had a pretty good rapport. She was so quiet, however, that it was almost impossible to gauge how she felt about me. I kept our interactions platonic in fear that if I ever tried anything else, she’d laugh in my face.

I wasn’t perceptive enough to figure out if her deadpan insults translated to“I like you”or“you’re a fucking idiot.”It was safer to go with the latter.

“She’d totally say yes,” Abigail said. I wanted to ask her how she knew this, but decided I didn’t want to sound too eager. She sat up a little straighter and adjusted her bra straps with a sigh. “I hope someone asks me.”

I looked at Xander. Here was his opening, an opportunity handed to him on a silver platter. As the seconds ticked by, I could almost feel the disappointment radiating from Abigail as Xander said nothing.

He missed it.

“So, Xan,” I said, clearing my throat. I took another hit before continuing. “I read your article about the Battle of the Bands thing.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” I said, letting my arm dangle out of the truck. I tapped my fingers against the warm metal. “I was sad I missed that–but your writing made me feel like I was there, man.”

“Thanks for humoring me.”

“He’s not humoring you,” Abigail said, elbowing him. “You’re a good writer. You’ll be working for the New York Times some day, I bet.”

Xander threw his head back and laughed. “Doubt it. Have to have a degree for that.”

I faced him. “You’re not planning on going to college?”

He looked from me to Abigail, taking a puff from the joint. “I’m not like you guys. My parents aren’t paying my way through college. But they make too much for me to get any kind of financial aid. So without some miracle of a scholarship, I’m fucked.”

“Hello, what about student loans?” Abigail offered.

Xander just grunted. That guy had way too much talent not to go after a journalism degree. I tried to think of some way he could figure this out, making a mental note to research scholarships for him after school. I zoned out for a couple of minutes, staring through the screen door at the side of the building. There was a blonde girl working behind the counter, saying something that made the man buying cigarettes laugh. I’d never seen her working here before. Though she was at least forty feet away, I could tell she was young–maybe just a year or two older than me.

The way she ran her fingers through her hair as she talked to customers caught my attention. She stopped midway, her hand lingering at the top of her head as she laughed. So relaxed. So… something. I couldn’t think of the word.

“Owen is no longer with us,” I heard Abigail tell Xander.

I blinked a couple of times. “What?”

“You’re undressing that cashier in there with your eyes and it’s freaking us out,” Xander said, snickering. “I wonder if she’s Boomer’s granddaughter or something.”

Abigail nodded. “You’re probably right.”

“You should go talk to her,” Xander said.

“Yeah, no,” I said, taking the joint from Abigail. I watched the cashier interact with another customer buying lottery tickets. “She’s gotta be like nineteen or twenty.”

“So? She could teach you a thing or two,” Xander said. Beside him, Abigail giggled.

I rolled my eyes, but I couldn’t stop looking at that girl. Everything about her— from the way she moved to the way her hair fell over her shoulder when she leaned across the counter to hand a customer his change—entranced me.

“Go in there,” Xander urged. “Go get you a Dr. Pepper and pick up her digits while you’re at it.”

I shook my head. Had this guy even met me? Flirting with girls on the science academic team was one thing. I could talk to them. I could domorethan talk to them. Natalie Castillo and I fooled around a little last semester until she got back with her ex-boyfriend. Talking to girls like Natalie and Lena was easy because they had known me for years, and I didn’t have to hide the fact I was just a goofy, inexperienced nerd. They already knew.

And unlike the girl behind the counter, they were my age. What could I possibly have that a nineteen-year-old wanted?

I glanced at the clock, attempting to change the subject. “Whatever. Let’s not stay too long. I wanted to study for my chemistry test at the end of calculus.”

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