BREATHE, ANNIE, BREATHE

Breathe, Annie, Breathe - Part 3

It’s brunch time at the Roadhouse.

Sundays before and after church are always busy. Besides Saturday nights, this is when I make my best tips. And I need every cent I can get before college. Financial aid from the government will cover my tuition and my dorm room, but I have to cover my meal plan and incidentals. As it stands right now, I might be able to afford one book.

I refill the coffees of this little old couple that comes here every week. They must be in their eighties, but they always sit on the same side of the booth to work the crossword together. He pats his wife’s spotted brown hand and smiles down at her. I used to wonder if that would be me and Kyle one day.

I spend a few minutes listening to a trucker tell me how a concrete truck overturned on I-40 near Knoxville, causing a three-hour traffic jam. No one was hurt, thank goodness.

At around eleven, the hostess seats Kelsey Painter, Vanessa Green, and Savannah Barrow in my section.

Great.

Kelsey grew up in Oakdale with me—her trailer sat two doors down from mine, and we had a lot in common. We both had single moms, only mine worked nights at the Quick Pick while hers worked days down at the Co-op. Her mom watched Nick and me while we slept, and my mother made sure Kelsey got to school, picked her up, and took care of her afterward. We shared a bed for years—it was like a never-ending slumber party. In all ways except blood, we were sisters.

Until eighth grade, that is, when Kelsey’s mom married a man who owns a landscaping business. They moved into a four-bedroom house on the other side of Franklin, and suddenly Kelsey had new jeans and an iPod while I still had the same flip-flops from Walmart and the radio. Every time I hung out at her house, all I could think about was how clean her kitchen was, how I could see my reflection in the stainless steel appliances. I wondered if the trailer park had a smell I didn’t notice, because I sure as hell could smell the lemon Pledge and dryer sheets in her new home.

Going there made me so uncomfortable, so unsure of myself, I stopped accepting her invitations to spend the night. Then she joined the cheerleading squad and became friends with the new girl, Vanessa. By the time high school rolled around, we didn’t have much in common, and we started arguing over little things, like, I accidentally lost a T-shirt of hers. And I didn’t have as much time to hang out anymore since I’d started dating Kyle. Then a rumor went around that Kelsey had a thing for him and I started dating him anyway. I never knew she liked him. If I had, I wouldn’t have dated him. If your friend—your sister—likes a boy, you don’t date him. But by the point the gossip started, Kelsey and I hadn’t spoken in months. Why give up the boy I was falling in love with for a friend who ditched me for the new girl? Besides, if the rumor was true, spending time with her could be super awkward.

None of that made Mom too happy; she didn’t like that I spent all my time outside of school with him and working at the Roadhouse, and never really had girlfriends after that.

“A boy should fit into your life—not become it. High school is when you start to define yourself. Don’t define yourself as the girl who has a boyfriend and nothing else.”

Problems with Kelsey aside, Vanessa has been nice to me this year. Some days I feel well enough to talk to her in study hall, and we partnered for a history project on pirates.

I pull a deep breath through my nose and charge toward their table, where they’re looking at menus and talking loud enough for the entire restaurant to hear them.

“I want cheese fries to start!” Savannah says.

“But I won’t be able to try on clothes later today,” Kelsey whines. “I’ll get bloated.”