A Single Stroke ✔️

47: Broke(n)

I stared down at the number several long seconds before crumpling it up and throwing it in the trash can.

"Dang, another one?" A voice over my shoulder inquired.

I looked over at Beak Boy. He propped a silver tray full of food partly on his shoulder as he eyed the trash can.

"Just part of my shift," I answered. "Honestly, it's not that big of a deal."

"Dude, how many numbers a day do you get? Do you realize how many chicks we could prank call? If it were me, I'd start making YouTube videos where I call each number and pretend to be like, a bill collector or something."

I stared at him. "A bill collector?" That was his best idea?

"Dude, imagine it!"

"I did. It's such an exciting idea, I'm ready to vomit rainbows," I said flatly, turning on my heel.

"Save the next one! We'll do it on break."

Lucky me.

I went to the back to check the next table I was waiting on for the night. Unexpectedly, Beak Boy ended up working at the same restaurant as me. He was shocked that I worked there; when he walked in yesterday, he stared several minutes with his eyes wide before finally saying, "Emery, you're a waiter?"

Who the hell cared? I was making money. Last I checked, that wasn't the worst job on the planet. I knew he didn't mean it that way; he was now a waiter, too. But he added, "Sorry, I just...you've got this huge reputation in school and you look...I don't know...like you've got money. I didn't expect to see you working as...a waiter."

Fuck him. Fuck everyone.

"Money comes from somewhere, idiot," I muttered.

That shut him up for the rest of the night. I wasn't so lucky today.

After scanning the list of tables assigned to me, I tensed.

Table five, party of one. Name: Ellie Matson. I relaxed. Finally.

She wasn't following me; this was her routine. Actually, it was our routine. And she waited too long this time around to come here.

When I found my way to her table, notepad out, I didn't wait for her to get settled or look up from her purse. I said, "What the hell took you so long?"

She looked up. Smiled. "Sup, Emery. A-plus for customer service skills."

"Yeah, same to you," I muttered sarcastically. "If 'A' is the new 'F'."

"God, I can tell you're out. Someone's extra short-tempered today," she said in a sing-song voice.

My jaw tightened. I leaned forward with one fist on the table and kept my eyes on my manager across the restaurant instructing Beak Boy. "How much did you bring?"

"Five grams."

"Five? I asked for ten."

She sighed. "That's all I could get this time, okay? Now go get me a croissant or something."

Why the hell did my dealer have to be someone as annoying as Ellie Matson?

As usual, I waited on her in between waiting on other tables. Hers was the only one I cared about because at the end of every visit, she traded me a small baggie of weed for any tips I collected during the time she was there.

Usually, she stayed forever just to accumulate more money.

We'd been doing it for the past three weeks; that was the best way for us to do the exchange since I wouldn't go to her house and I couldn't trust my dad enough to have her stop by mine. Her visits were supposed to be Fridays, but today was a Tuesday night. She was late. Again.

At the end of my shift, I collected her stack of plates and two empty cups. The other deal was that I gave her food for free.

"Okay," I said, balancing the dishes on a tray and reaching out with my other hand, "I'll take it now."

"Ah, say please."

How annoying could a person be?

I clenched my teeth. "Please."

She sighed and dug through her purse. "Why did you need so much this time? Not that I disapprove; I still think we should go get high together sometime. But like, that's a lot before Friday."

"Final game of the season's this Friday, remember? I'm aiming to have my mind completely gone after the game." Only partly true. I didn't know what exactly I had planned, I just knew I needed weed to do it.

"Gotcha. I'm glad you finally see things my way." She slid the black pay-folder over to me on the table discreetly. That's where she hid the drugs.

I grabbed the pay folder and slipped the bag into my pocket. "Thanks," I muttered.

"Anytime, Charmer." She stood, patted me on the back, and walked out.

When I looked up, I caught Beak Boy's eye from a few tables down. How long had he been standing there?

I shrugged at him. He just shook his head slowly before returning to the back.

* * *

"Dude, please come."

"I can't, I'm sorry." I started off down the hall, but Max grabbed my arm.

"Last win of the season and you're bailing on the party? Why are you so fucking lame? Don't be Emerfreak."

The halls were crowded and it was dark outside. The game lasted longer than anyone thought, but we pulled through with our final win. Could you believe it? We won. Woohoo. I should've been excited, but half the game I had no clue what the hell was going on. All I wanted to do was go home and get high enough to just collapse in my bed. I definitely needed it.

Of course, Max had other plans for me. The team planned on partying at his house if we won. Now, everyone was jumping through the halls hooting and hollering, streamers flying through the air and confetti canons blowing from every direction.

"Alright kids, calm down now, I don't want another person throwing conf-"

Another confetti canon went off in the new disciplinarian's face, forcing him to shield his face and stumble back against some snack tables. Everyone around him laughed as he fought to untangle himself from fallen streamers.

Bet someone was getting detention.

I looked at Max. "Calling me that isn't going to change my mind."

"Dude, everyone's going. It would look pretty shitty if you didn't."

"Look, I said I'm not-"

"Emery, my man!" Jacob came up behind me and put his arm around my shoulders. "What's that I heard? You'll be there at ten? Sweeeet! Did ya hear that everyone?" He turned, forcing me to turn and face the people in the halls with him, and said, "Emery's coming and he's inviting everyone who hears this."

People in the halls cheered more. The sound was insane; probably louder than the last day of school. Didn't know why they were so hyped; I was not going to Max's party.

Once Jacob turned back around, he whispered, "Be there at ten. Bring your jersey for the hot girls to sign. Tonight we're living large and fucking shit up. It's gonna be a rager."