Sometimes It Happens by Lauren Barnholdt Read Free Book Online Page B

into the change machine.
    It roars to life and eighty quarters come tumbling out. Most of them collect in the metal compartment under the dispenser, but a few of them bounce out and roll all over the floor. I try to stomp on them with my flip-flop as they go by, but two of them go rolling under a dryer. Ugh. This is turning out to be a disaster already and I haven’t even put my clothes in a washer yet.
    I turn to the guy who works there, a middle-aged man with an overgrown beard. He’s wearing a green plaid coat (in summer?) and tinkering with a washing machine. “Excuse me?” I ask. “Do you have a plastic cup or something I could use for my quarters?”
    “No,” he says in a really unfriendly way, then goes backto working on the machine. Wow. Talk about bad customer service.
    I decide not to worry about the two that went missing, and scoop up a handful of quarters from the metal compartment, not sure where I’m going to put them. What a pain in the ass this is turning out to be. I am so hitting up the vending machine on the way out and getting one of those so-disgusting-they’re-good chocolate Yoo-hoo drinks, so that I have fuel for the walk home. I definitely deserve it after all this.
    I’m just about to try and stuff as many coins as I can into my pockets and maybe just leave the rest, when a hand reaches down next to me and scoops up the rest of my quarters. Like, seriously scoops them all up. In one smooth motion, like one of those giant claw machines that you use to try and win crappy stuffed animals.
    “Hey!” I say to the anonymous hand. “What are you—”
    “Sorry,” Noah says. “I saw you were having a little bit of a problem.”
    He reaches into his pocket, pulls out a Ziploc bag, drops my quarters in, closes the bag, and then hands it to me. I just stare at him. What the hell is Noah doing here? And why does he have Ziploc bags with him?
    “Do you need some help?” he asks. He gestures to the ground, where my trash bags are now sitting.
    “Hey!” I say, looking at them. “How did those get on the floor?”
    I turn around and see a woman wearing a black-and-white-patterned wrap dress calmly loading her clothes into the washer that, just a few seconds ago, had my clothes on top of it. Apparently she thought it was okay to just move my stuff onto the floor. “That woman,” I say to Noah, pointing and not caring if she hears me, “stole my washer!”
    “You snooze you lose,” Noah says, shrugging, like I have no idea what goes on in a Laundromat. If he’s freaked out by the general disheveledness of my appearance (I haven’t really been sleeping or, ah, grooming so well, so I’m wearing cotton pajama pants, a tank, and my hair is pulled back in a messy ponytail), he doesn’t say anything. Noah, on the other hand, looks fresh as a daisy, in khaki shorts and a black T-shirt. Probably he has fun plans later tonight. “So you do need some help then?”
    “No,” I say. “I don’t.” The last thing I want is to hang out with Noah. Nothing against Noah, I’m just not feeling all that social. I kind of hate people lately. In fact, this whole Laundromat thing was obviously a mistake. I’m definitely not ready to be out of the house. “I was actually just leaving.”
    “You were?”
    “Yeah.”
    “Then why were you putting money into the coin machine?”
    “Oh, that.” I wave my hand like the answer should be evident. “I wanted to get a Yoo-hoo out of the vending machine and it doesn’t take twenties.” I roll my eyes, likeit’s completely ridiculous that a vending machine wouldn’t take twenties. When you think about it, it kind of is. I could totally spend twenty dollars in a vending machine.
    “The vending machine?” He sounds amused. And also like he doesn’t believe me.
    “Yes,” I say. “It’s the only one in a five mile radius that has Yoo-hoo.” I have no idea if this is true, but I cross my arms over my chest, daring him to challenge