I growled and locked the screen, dropping the phone on the bed beside me and rolling onto my back.
Why was I reading that shit? Why was I doing that to myself?
Those people weren’t my friends. I didn’t like them, and they definitely didn’t like me. But it still hurt to read comment after comment about how fucking worthless I was as a human being.
I’d tried to switch off from it completely once. I deactivated my accounts and embraced being as invisible as they all liked to joke I was. It was bliss . . . for about two days. Then I opened my locker at school, and a sea of paper came flying out. Hundreds of printouts of posts, comments, and taunts I’d avoided while offline smacked me in the face, quite literally.
“We saw you deactivated your accounts, and we didn’t want you to miss anything important,” Kelsey had said, a self-satisfied smile on her face.
“Can’t believe you’re going to keep killing trees when you can read all this online. Don’t you know we’re in a climate crisis?” Madison’s threat had been clear—get back online or keep receiving printouts.
Defeated, I cleaned up the mess before one of them reported it to a teacher and got me in trouble. Then I reactivated my accounts. What else could I do?
And if I really thought about it, I’d missed the makeup accounts I followed, not to mention talking to the only people my age who didn’t treat me like shit—the girls.
My phone vibrated next to my thigh, and I picked it up reflexively, my heart kicking up a notch, as it did every time. I never knew if the notification would bring a mundane message from one of my parents or an anonymous suggestion I end my own life.
It was Turner.
Turner: Sorry I didn’t reply sooner. It’s been a crazy day. I had to help my dad with something. Did you get the math homework done?
I smiled and responded immediately, not even caring if that looked as if I’d been up just staring at my phone, waiting for him to message me. I was so happy to hear from him.
I poured salt into the shaker and passed it to Chelsea. She screwed the top on while I did the next one, both of us taking our time, leaning on the end of the counter.
Barry, the cook, was out back having a break, and Leah had taken the night off. Tuesday nights were always quiet, so a good part of my shift was spent refilling the salt, pepper, and sugar shakers and restocking the takeaway cups, along with general cleaning and tidying. And of course, gossiping with Chelsea. Or rather she’d gossip, talking a million miles an hour, while I dropped in the occasional “OMG!” or “Are you serious?”
She used to talk a lot about her boyfriend and his friends, but they’d broken up recently, and now she talked more about some new course she wanted to do.
“Sorry, what was it called?” I realized I’d zoned out and overfilled the last saltshaker. I mopped up my mess as she repeated what she’d been saying.
“BestLyf.” She huffed. I was pretty sure that was the same thing my mom had been talking about the other day. “You OK, girl? You seem more quiet than usual. Distracted.”
“Yeah, I’m fine. Sorry. Just tired.” I’d been staying up way too late talking to Turner on the balcony or on the phone. I gave her a smile, and she launched right back in.
“Well, remember the info session I mentioned a couple of weeks ago?” She waved the saltshaker lid around animatedly as she talked.
“Uh-huh.” I nodded and glanced around the diner, making sure the three currently occupied tables didn’t need anything.
“Well, it was so good. I mean, I only went because I had nothing better to do, and that chick I met at yoga was raving about it, and she seemed nice, but it was totally worth it. They even had sushi platters out after, and I didn’t have to worry about dinner.” She chuckled, and I gave her a wide smile. That girl was obsessed with raw fish. “It was the first time in, like, a month I managed to not think about Dave for more than ten fucking minutes.” At the mention of her ex, her face fell.
I dropped the large box of salt and squeezed her hand. “He didn’t deserve you.”
“No, he did not.” She squared her shoulders, and we got back to work. “I mean, I came out here for him. I left all my friends and my family back in Illinois because I thought we were in love and creating a life together. Then six months after we move here, he dumps me and moves to San Francisco! He is such a fucking asshole.”
I shushed her, glancing around at the patrons again.
She cringed. “Sorry. Anyway, I’ve been thinking about moving to San Fran myself, just to stick it to him, ya know? But it’s so expensive. And then I was thinking about moving home, but I haven’t told my mom that we broke up yet, and I’ve kinda lost touch with my friends and . . . I dunno. Anyway, I think I’m gonna stay now. That info session really helped put things in perspective for me. I learned that it’s OK to put myself and my happiness first, so that’s what I’m gonna do.”
“You learned all that from one free info session? Wow.”
“No, silly.” She grinned. We finished with the salt and moved on to the sugar. “I’ve been to three free info sessions, and the other night I went to my first workshop, which they charge for, but it was so worth it.”
“You went to four events in two weeks?” I asked, a little surprised.
“Yeah! I mean, it’s not like I had anything better to do, and I was learning so much and meeting all these amazing, successful people. I think it’s lucky that BestLyf has one of its centers right here in Devilbend. Makes it possible for them to offer more events, ya know?”
“Uh-huh. Lucky. I’m really happy for you, Chelsea. It’s good to see you so positive again.” I didn’t know much about this program, but I wanted to be supportive.
“Thank you.” She beamed. “Hey, you should come. They’re super welcoming to everyone. It’s a really flexible program that’s tailored to your individual needs, the further along you get. The main focus is always on helping you be your best self—whatever that means for you.”
“Uh, yeah, maybe . . .”
The bell above the door dinged, saving me from having to awkwardly avoid going to whatever motivational self-help crap Chelsea had gotten involved in.
“I got it.” I rushed to the door before she could say anything else.
Donna, Harlow, and Amaya walked in wearing their school uniforms, looking cute in their knee-high socks and so pretty. I’d never look that pretty. The table of college guys in the corner watched them with unconcealed interest.
“Well, hello there, fair maidens.” I gave them a mock bow. “Welcome to our humble establishment. How may I be of service this evening?”
Donna and Amaya chuckled, but Harlow jumped right into the ridiculousness with me. “Your finest table, wench. We’re weary travelers in need of a warm meal to fill our bellies and a pitcher of your best mead.”
“Who you callin’ wench, bitch?” I dropped the act and stepped forward to give them each a hug before leading them to a booth.
“That uniform looks amazing on you.” Amaya tugged on the edge of my stained blue apron.
I gave her a skeptical look. “Please.”