What Happens Next by Colleen Clayton Read Free Book Online Page B

thumbs-up. He covers his mouth as he walks inside grinning.
    I walk back home and look down at the food that I haven’t eaten. My stomach lurches. I hate to waste it, so on my way out, I stop and give it to Mrs. Leary’s dog. We own a duplex, and she rents the other side from us. She’s older than King Tut’s grandma, but really sweet. Her dog lives in the garage and has a nice fenced run that he can access from a giant door flap carved into the side.
    The dog comes lumbering out of his giant door flap to scarf up the food. He’s an Irish wolfhound named Ronan and stands nearly to my chest on all fours. Like I said, I’m five-foot-nine, so that would make him positively the hugest dog ever born. Two gulps and the whole plate is gone. I give Ronan a pat, then shut the gate. He lowers his head and lets out a low broooof of a thank-you before moseying back into his freshly cleaned garage.
    I walk a few blocks to the business district and stop in front The Diner on Clifton, known for its eclectic and spunky atmosphere. I like the name choice, straight and to the point. I go in and scan a menu at the door. Everything would normally look appetizing, but the thought of eating any of it makes my guts roil. I’m incredibly thirsty all of a sudden, so I order two Red Bulls and a glass of ice. I also order a plain bagel because I feel strange sitting down at a diner with no actual food. I have chosen a table near the window. I take my gloves off, set them in the sill, and sit listening to the clang of dishes and Regina Spektor playing overhead.
    The waitress—SHELLEY, it says on her name tag—brings me my bagel and Red Bulls and asks why I’m not in school. I tell her I’m twenty but look young. She has a kind face and is wearing a “Keep it Green” T-shirt and silver earrings that jingle when she moves her head. I want someone to talk to, so I make up a whole story about who I am. How my name is Fiona and I go to Case Western. I’m majoring in ecology. I rent a room from this old widow for practically nothing. I just have to shovel the drive, mow the lawn, and walk the old woman’s horse of a dog three times a day. Incidentally, I am also a vegan and don’t believe in cars; I only walk, ride my skateboard, or take public transportation. I don’t want to leave my carbon footprint on our precious earth.
    What a crock. I tell this story to the waitress. I know the words are coming out of my mouth, and on some level, I can hear them, but it feels like they are coming from the girl sitting behind me, like it’s someone else’s conversation altogether. But the lies feel good. For a moment, I am someone else entirely. Someone who has never cared about being in love in her whole life. I am someone who cares about real and important things, like carbon footprints. I am someone with lofty purposes who wouldn’t try out for cheerleading even if a gun were held to her head, someone who couldn’t care less that no boys at school have ever asked her out. A girl who would never fall for a predator’s bag of tricks just because she’s so desperate for attention.
    No, I am not Cassidy Murphy EASY MARK right this second. Not in this diner, at this moment. Right now, I am Fiona-What’s-Her-Face-College-Student-Wise-Beyond-Her-Twenty-Years. I am Scholarship Girl, Environmental Warrior, and Caretaker of the Elderly. I am not sitting duck high school idiot who was lured in and—
    Ow! I wince hard.
    I have been rabidly crunching on ice while chewing the fat with Shelley Keep It Green. My brain was elsewhere. It lost track of my mouth and I have bitten into my tongue. Fack! That hurt!
    “You okay?”
    “Just bit my tongue.”
    Shelley smiles and walks away. I am left alone again with only the Truth to keep me company. I suck down my Red Bulls. When I am good and torqued up on caffeine and positively brimming with self-loathing, I decide to burn it all off by running. I need to keep moving. I throw down a ten-dollar bill and head back