Between You & Me - By Marisa Calin Page 0,20

sure I talked too loudly, stroll back to the counter with nothing on my pad but the doodle of a house. Phyre! Crap. I can’t remember what Mia asked for. Get it together! I look at the corner of my pad, feathered into something like a flower, as if that will help. This is ridiculous. I’m too preoccupied with being engaging to perform the simplest task? I panic inwardly, poring over the menu to look for something that sparks my memory. Could be anything! Twirling my pen—I drop my pen, pick up the pen—I glide through the shop to you. You know me well enough to recognize a little panic. I pretend to engage you in polite conversation:

ME

(Quietly)

Help! I can’t remember what Mia asked for—it’s gone right out of my head.

Puzzled, you peer at my pad and, seeing my useless origami, you bite your lip.

YOU

At least your pad looks nice.

ME

Thanks!

I glare. Be helpful.

Did you hear?

You gaze thoughtfully in recollection but I know that face! I know you heard and you’re leading me on. You hmm uncertainly and I threaten you with a pinch. I have a killer pinch that you’ve learned to fear.

ME

Tell me …

YOU

All right, all right!

You grin and push away my hand.

Jasmine tea.

ME

That’s it! I love you!

I give you a rushed hug.

You’re the best.

When I straighten up, Mia is looking, and I laugh, embarrassed, saying something about friendly service, and flow busily but serenely back to my station.

CUT TO: LATER.

I’m frothing milk—still not something I’m good at; it deflates in front of my eyes by the time I reach people’s tables—and Mia comes up to the counter as they’re leaving. Seeing her approach, I turn off the milk frother to be casually available.

MIA

Thanks, bye.

ME

Oh, bye.

Heart fluttering, I twirl the sprig of mint sitting on a saucer I cleared earlier. She is still there:

MIA

Hey, I’m glad to see you so engaged in class. Can you meet me after school tomorrow? There’s something I want to talk to you about, if you’re interested.

Me. Interested! Don’t say okeydoke!

ME

Sure!

MIA

And I’ll see you on the theater trip tonight?

ME

You certainly will.

She begins to turn away, and I swallow. Here’s my chance to find the courage to speak, to show her I’m thoughtful:

Mia?

The first time I’ve said her name to her face.

I heard that things didn’t work out with your boyfriend and I’m sorry.

She turns back to me and smiles.

MIA

Thanks for saying so, but plenty of good has come of it. Right?

She means me? Probably not; why would she? But my heart skips three and a half beats before my body shouts at it in protest. I smile out loud.

She walks away and I resist the urge to dance. I was a veritable genius compared to last time. I absentmindedly nibble the corner of the mint leaf. Then I remember that it’s someone else’s and I spit it into the palm of my hand.

THEATER TRIP. SCHOOL STEPS. 7 P.M.

I breathe in the fresh sweet air. Evening hours spent with Mia—Mia, who wants to speak to me tomorrow! If we were watching a shoe for two hours I would go if it meant being with her. It’s a gorgeous crisp night. The temperature has dropped and everyone’s shivering. Right now, I like shivering. It makes me feel alive. Elle looks silly in a short skirt. She’s squeezing her knees together to generate warmth. I’ve knotted my scarf and buttoned it in against my chest but I’ve forgotten my gloves so I fold my arms and tuck in my hands and chin. Ryan takes it as a hostile pose and calls across the grass:

RYAN

Blah-blah-blah-blah-blah.

Today, everything bounces off. Mia wants to meet with me and it is a secret joy that fills me with importance and expectation. Looking at people grouped on the steps I think with a pang of excitement that I have reason to feel special, and I imagine, with a new sense of entitlement, the evening ahead. I went to all Mia’s lunchtime scene-study classes so I have some knowledge of the play we’re going to even though my intention to dazzle her with bright remarks was compromised by the thoughts that take over when I’m in her presence.

When my mind returns to the steps, you’re kindly holding out your gloves to me—but at that moment Mia comes down the path with Mrs. Keen and I forget about the cold. Everyone is flooding forward to the waiting bus. I hang back, reaching halfheartedly for your sleeve, aware of our proximity to Mia in the failing