What He Never Said ✔️

chapter nine • the job

"What doesn't kill you makes you wish you were dead."
- Bring Me the Horizon

With my fists shoved into my pockets, I approach the diner. The word "Poppy's" is written on the window in large, bright red lettering. I open the door, causing the bell to jingle. Everyone glances up from their plates and stares at me like I've caused some sort of disturbance.

I'm greeted by a twenty-something waitress with dark, shoulder-length hair, a curved nose, and hoop earrings. She wears a warm smile as she leads me to an empty booth.

"Thank you," I say, taking a seat and picking up the laminated menu.

"My name is Jaime, and I'll be taking care of you today," she informs me. "Can I get you a cup of coffee?"

"Yes, please."

"Be back in a jiff."

She struts away, her hips swaying left to right with each step. Pretty and polite. I chuckle to myself, recalling how Zayna only possessed one of those qualities.

"What are you doing here?" an angry voice spits out.

Ah, speak of the devil....

"Hello, Zayna." I flash a friendly smile. "How's your day going?"

"Why are you here, Bowie?"

"Uh, to eat. This is a diner."

"Are you, like, following me or something?" She folds her arms over her chest and glowers at me.

"Relax, I'm not a stalker," I assure her, "although I did want to talk to you about something."

She softens. The hostility in her face is replaced with curiosity, and her lips come dangerously close to forming a smile. "I'm off at two. Can you wait?"

"I've got time."

With a nod, she walks away, sneaking a final glance in my direction as Jaime delivers a steaming cup of coffee to my table.

I order a cheeseburger and eat it slowly, watching the minute hand on the clock move in a leisurely circle. When two o'clock rolls around, Zayna takes off her apron, plops down beside me, and steals one of my fries.

"Hungry?" I raise my eyebrows, the corners of my mouth ascending into a smirk.

"Pretty much always, yeah," she replies, helping herself to my pickle.

I frown. "I was looking forward to that pickle, you know."

Her honey-brown gaze meets mine. She takes a hefty bite of the fermented cucumber and then licks her lips.

"Anyway...." I clear my throat, trying to get the image of Zayna suggestively eating a pickle out of my head. "So, uh, not to seem like a stalker again, but why were you buying drugs outside of the South Side projects the other day?"

Her golden eyes widen. "Okay, when you begin a sentence with 'not to seem like a stalker' and then say that, you one-hundred percent seem like a stalker."

"I was there with my sister. She had to get some things from her friend's old apartment," I explain.

"I don't know you, Bowie. What I do or don't do in my free time is none of your business." She snags one last french fry before rising to her feet. "But if you must know, I'm not a junkie, okay?"

"Drug-user cliche number one," I mumble, sinking into the booth. This girl drives me crazy.

"I'm not!" she insists. She rolls her eyes, sits back down, and adds in a hushed tone, "My brother is a recovering addict. He needs suboxone, but we don't have health insurance, so—"

"I get it," I cut her off. "There are free clinics, though. You don't have to go to the streets."

"Oh, Bowie, your privilege is showing," she says with a sly grin. "You really think you can just walk into a clinic and get suboxone? It's a controlled substance. Plus, even with insurance, it's cheaper to get it from a dealer."

"I don't know much about it," I confess.

"Obviously," she tosses back.

I let out a heavy sigh. Why does this girl get under my skin so much? Why do I care about what she does when I'm not around, or even when I am?

Why do I keep coming back to this fucking diner?

"Can you get me a job?" I blurt out.

She raises her eyebrows in surprise. "Like, a job here?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"I'm taking a break from university," I tell her. "I can't just sit at home all day, right?"

She shrugs her shoulders. "I mean, Poppy is looking for some help out back. You can wash dishes, right?"

"Hmm, I don't know. You might have to teach me."

"I'll put in a good word for you," she replies with another theatrical eye roll. I swear, Zayna rolls her eyes more than Evangeline. "No funny business, though. If you get hired and then proceed to be the world's shittiest employee, you'll make me look bad."

"And your abysmal customer service doesn't make you look bad?" I retaliate.

Smirking, she snatches yet another fry off my plate and saunters away.

<>*<>*<>*<>*<>

"I really appreciate this opportunity, Mrs. McGowan," I say with a grin as I tie my red apron around my waist.

"What did I tell you? Call me Poppy." The gray-haired woman offers a warm smile before putting her hand on my shoulder. "You seem like a sweet boy. I look forward to working with you."

I've come to realize that Poppy, a.k.a. my new boss, is a saint. She reminds me of my grandmother on Mom's side: sweet, nurturing, and willing to do anything to assist someone in need.

"Well, thanks again, Poppy." I grab a hairnet from the shelf above the sink and secure my shaggy blonde locks beneath it. Zayna's warning resounds in my head, and I shudder. "I... I won't let you down, I promise."

"I have faith in you, Bowie." She smiles once more before exiting the kitchen, leaving me alone with a stack of dirty dishes.

"Lookin' good." Zayna materializes beside me. She eyes the hairnet and chuckles. "You realize that you don't need to wear that, right?"

I shrug my shoulders. "It seemed to make Poppy happy."

"Poppy's always happy, except for when she's not."

"Sounds like everyone else I know."

"Even me?" She puts her hands on her hips and furrows her brow.

"No," I reply, my heart racing inside of my ribcage, "there's no one else like you."

"Good." Her shoulder bumps mine as she walks past me. The contact sends an electrical current down my arm and to my fingertips.

As Zayna returns to the lobby, a startling realization hits me like a roundhouse kick to the chest: I haven't thought about Raelyn, Benson, or my fucked up family drama in days.

And for me, that's a new record.