continue, scooting my chair just a bit closer, so we can talk. You'd think I fucking slapped Calix, the way he looks at me. I ignore him. “The café used to be on street level, but there was a lot of flooding and mudslides in town back in the late 1800s. The street was eventually built up, but the café remains on the original level.”
“You memorized the menu,” Calix says, lifting up the plastic menu in his hands and pointing at an inner flap with the history of the restaurant printed on it. “How quaint.”
“I've taken many a tour around Eureka Springs,” I quip back, meeting him blow for blow. My old rules—don't attract the attention of the Knight Crew—no longer apply to my life. Whether I've really broken the loop or not doesn't matter; I'm tired of trying to make myself small for them. Nobody can make me feel small, if I don't let them. “If you'd spent even a modicum of time trying to appreciate where you live, maybe you'd know some facts about the area, too?”
“What do I care about Arkansas?” Calix purrs back, putting an elbow on the table and resting his chin in his hand. The way he stares at me, I'm not sure if I should be offended … or charmed? Calix is like a cat who's rubbing on you, asking to be pet, but then scratches you as soon as you do. I can practically see his metaphorical tail twitching, one ear laid back in mock aggression. “As soon as we graduate, I'm heading back to D.C.”
“You shouldn't just live for tomorrow,” I say, smiling slightly as I glance back down at the menu. My eyes are so tired they burn, and as I stare at the blurring words in front of me, I realize there are tears waiting in the wings, wanting to be shed. “Sometimes, tomorrow never comes. Now is just as important.”
Calix chucks his menu on the table, almost angrily, but when I glance over at him, he isn't looking at me.
“Are you two ready to order?” a busy waitress asks, pausing by our table.
“Coffee, black,” Calix says, and then after a heartbeat too long, he adds, “and blueberry pancakes.”
“Espresso, iced tea, and blueberry pancakes for me, too.” I smile as I hand back my menu, and the waitress scurries away.
For a while there, the two of us sit in complete silence. Neither of us even looks at our phones. I'm pretty sure we're both ready to pretend we don't even have them.
Yet another yawn hits me as I blink droopy lids, my eyes scratchy and aching as I reach up to rub at them. There's no time like the present, I think, forcing my eyes open so I can look over at Calix. Surprisingly, I find him watching me.
“Who do you think uploaded the video?” he asks, but I don't have any answer for him, so I just shake my head. “Probably fucking Raz,” Calix grinds out with a scowl, and it occurs to me that there's no love lost between the two of them. It'd be difficult, to try to spend a day making them both happy. Add Barron in, and it seems like a lost cause entirely. But I bet you could do it, Karma. That is, if today isn't my new reality. I sure as hell hope it is.
“It wasn't Raz,” I say with complete confidence, shaking my head again. “Not Barron either. Could it be Sonja?” I try to pretend like I don't know Luke’s fucking Sonja, but it's hard. The temptation to question Calix about the boys' morning plan of taking me to the cabin is hard to resist. If I mention it, it'll make him even more suspicious.
“I think it was Pearl,” Calix says, voice low. He ignores the waitress as she sets down his coffee, staring into the dark brown liquid like it holds all the answers. Finally, he sighs and sets his elbows on the table, putting his chin in his right hand. “Too easy. Maybe Erina?”
“Who?” I ask, and Calix gives me a look.
“Erina Cheney?” he echoes, and I shake my head. “Are you fucking kidding me? She fucks with you all the time, and you don't even know her name?”
“I don't make it a habit of memorizing my tormentors' names,” I say, thanking the waitress enthusiastically when she drops off my espresso and iced tea, just to make up for Calix. He doesn't seem to have much to say