Young Writers Society

“If he was like, three inches taller, he could rest his chin in her cleavage.” Clara said while we watch a couple getting up to leave the diner. We are both sitting in a worn out red booth not too far away from them so they are in earshot of everything we are saying. I laugh as the boy turned and looks at us, his face red and breaking out in sweat. His date tugs at his hand and leads him to the door. We laugh as he turns away and steps out into the rain. Clara punched me in the arm, her blue eyes gleaming. Pushing the light colored waves of my hair out of my eye, I take a sip of the chocolate shake I had been holding. As the couple leaves the parking lot, Clara and me still sit in the booth talking. Clara is wild; she usually says things without thinking and often gets into trouble. I was more of the quiet one who went along with everything she did or told me to do. Last Halloween I broke into some poor old lady’s house to look for paper bags to stuff dog shit into and leave on unsuspecting neighbors porches to burn. I didn’t know why we broke into a house; I assumed it was because we couldn’t go into the super market after what Clara had done with the grapes so I just did whatever she told me to. I almost wound up in jail because of that. Luckily Clara knew that one of her brother’s friends lived a block away that we could hide out in. He was a druggie who liked to smoke marijuana and get so drunk he didn’t even know what two times two was. Being like any sixteen year olds, we took a hit of whatever he offered. I went home later that night after we were sure the cops were gone and got grounded after my mom found a bag of coke hidden in my jacket pocket. “You have and change?” Clara asks bringing me out of my thoughts. “For what?”

“Jukebox.” I look around and see the dusty thing sitting in the corner; it’s lights flashing and a humming sound coming from it. “Yeah, sure,” I dig around in my pocket until I find a dollar and hand it to her.

“No quarters?”

“Beggars can’t be choosers.” I can’t believe I had just said that. I sounded like my mother. She gave me a silly look, like, “Where had that come from?”

I ignored her as she got up and went up to the cashier behind the counter. He was slowly rubbing a spot that was worn away in a circular motion with a wet rag. The guy looks up as I watch on and Clara hands him the dollar. “I need change,” she looked at him, her eyes wandering his face. “Melvin,” she said looking back at me, her foot tapping on the tile floor. Trying to hide my smile, I look outside the window through the shades to see it still raining; a clash of lightning lights up the cars that sit outside in the parking lot.

“Quarters?”

“What else?” she asks giving him a charming smile. Clara was good at flirting; she didn’t even know she was doing it until the guy would ask her out on a date. He smiled shyly as he pushes his black hair out of his eyes; acne covered his cheeks and gave him a greasy look. Clara turns back to me as he gets four quarters out of the cash register, “Here you go,” he said handing her the quarters. She took them and walked away as he watched on, wiping the same spot and then shining his ‘Employee of the Month’ badge off like he was something hot. Clara rolled her eyes at me making me laugh and then cough when the sip of chocolate ran down my throat unsuspectingly. Soon a hit of the 70s came through the speakers. I knew this song; it was the one Clara had been playing while we were in her station wagon coming to the diner. It was her favorite for rainy days. Skipping slightly as she made her way through the tables and back to me. She gave me a goofy grin while she pulls me up. “What are you doing?” I asked as she tugs at my sleeve. “Bathroom,”

“You can’t wipe yourself or something?”

Looking back at Melvin, I see him staring at us while ignoring a customer who is asking him for napkins. Entering the bathroom the smell of hand sanitizer and Tile X greeted me. “So why did you bring me here?”

Clara let go of my hand and lifted her shirt. “Whoa there!” I said looking away.

“Don’t be stupid, Allie.” she said grabbing the hand that I shielded my eyes with away and putting it to her stomach. “You’re-”

“Pregnant,” she finished the sentence for me as she let my hand fall away and covered her stomach with the red bulky sweater she had been wearing. “How? Who?”

I had so many more questions to ask.

She rolled her eyes and suddenly I knew, “Melvin?!”

“Yeah,” she shrugs her shoulders and tucks a piece of red hair out of her eyes.

“I thought-”

“What?” she asks glaring at me.

“Never mind,”

In the back of my head I knew what she was thinking, how could this happen to me?

“How did you meet him?”

“Me and my brother sometimes come up here for ice cream cones. He was working the counter like usual and we got to talking and before I knew it he was asking me out on a date. Everything went by so quickly after that and when we were sitting in front of my house he…kissed me. When my dad started flickering the lights for me to come in he asked if I would like to go somewhere a little bit more private. Things just got out of hand.” I knew that was a shortened version, but I knew Clara; she wasn’t the person to give details.

“Are you…keeping it?” I ask.

“I don’t know.”

“Do your parents know?”

“You’re the only one I’ve told.”

“Oh,”

“Yeah. I need help Al, I really need some advice here…” she looked away as her eyes water. “Hey,” I said pulling her towards me, already her head was going to my shoulder. “I just-” her voice cracks as she let a sob escape, “I don’t know what to do.”

“You’ll be okay, I promise, you’ll be okay.”

Rocking her gently I let her cry and comfort her as she went on about how worried she was between sobs. Later after closing, an employee finds us on the bathroom floor and told us we’d have to leave. The rain mixed with Clara’s tears as we run outside to the car and I help her into the car as she cried softly. Running over to the other side, Clara hands me the keys. Turning the key in the ignition, I look up as the rain hits the windshield and see the blurry face of Melvin, looking out at us as he washes the windows in the same circular motion as the counter.