Magic IRL

Better.Me

"Hello ladies and germs, welcome to my stream! Today we're going to be doing a little gaming, a little chilling. Just takin' it easy. So first up—"

"Oliver, get those headphones off!" Dennis yells. "How many times do I have to tell you that?"

I jerk around and rip out my earbuds in a single panicked motion. A man in a green polo stands in front of the counter.

"Oh shit—shoot—Pat, I didn't think you were coming in til three today," I say.

"That doesn't mean you wear headphones until three," Pat says, hands on his hips. "People don't just come to Ecky's for cheap gas and a broad selection of potato chips. They expect excellent customer service."

Behind Pat, I see a gaggle of boys watching, barely concealing their smirks.

"Understood," I sigh. "Won't happen again."

The onlookers openly grin. I feel my face go red and do my best to avoid making eye contact. Even absent Pat's condescension, I always try to shrink away when I see anyone my age in the store.

"So, Ollie, things seem to be going well," one of the boys says, as Pat storms off into a backroom. I recognize the boy's square face as Nick's, our high school's former quarterback. "Guess being the valedictorian really did pay off."

The squad of jocks erupts into a chorus of guffaws.

"Well, on the one hand, I'm working at a gas station, so that's not great," I say. "But, unlike you, I'm not still wearing a letterman jacket, so I realized that high school ended."

The guffaws stop, and the boys break into a chorus of "oohs," looking expectantly at Nick.

"Yeah, I guess you always were better than us normal people," Nick says. "By the way, make me a burrito and tidy up the bathroom, Ollie. I really left a doozie in there."

I feel my jaw clench and my face go redder still. Nick smirks as his entourage roars in laughter.

#

"Don't let those guys bother you," Issac says, after the jocks have left. He pulls a greasy pizza out of an ancient oven. "They were assholes in high school. They're assholes now."

I sigh. I don't let it show, but I do appreciate Issac. He's no college friend, but he's kind, which is more than I can say for most people in Sawrunt, Kentucky.

"They didn't bother me," I say as I push a mop across the station's linoleum tiling. "They can demean me all they want, but next semester I'll be back at Berkeley and out of this hillbilly town."

"It ain't all bad here," Issac says, wiping his hands on his apron. "And hell, there ain't nothing wrong with hillbillies—just those hillbillies."

"Didn't mean anything against you," I say, shoving the mop toward a mystery puddle. "Hell, I grew up here too. Just ready to get my life back on track is all."

"Well hey man, a couple of us are getting together at my place tonight if you wanna join," Issac says, leaning on the counter. "Beats watching Fidget streams all night."

"What are you talking about?" I say, one hand on the mop, the other reflexively on my hip.

Issac laughs. "I know why you've got those headphones on all day."

"Look, I just—"

"Hey man, I'm not judging," Issac says, his palms facing me. "I'm just saying it's nice to spend time with real people in the real world sometimes too."

I sigh. "No, I need to stay focused, keep my eyes on getting back to university."

"Whatever suits you," Issac says.