12:29PM.
One minute until the bell would go off. One minute until lunch. One minute until that bag of
Lays Buffalo Wing Chips – not just any bag of buffalo wing chips: it had to be Lays.
Just thinking about it made her antsy.
The bell rang loudly throughout the school as students noisily shuffled into the hallway, ready for the five minutes provided for transitions from one place to another; chattering, laughing, shouting, lockers opening and shutting – the sounds of middle school.
Kelly hugged her books tightly to her chest as she walked in and out of hallway traffic, smiling to acquaintances here and there. Her locker was close, just a few feet in front of her, but the sea of adolescents blocked her way, making what should have been a 10-second walk a 3 minute one. It was like this every day, but it annoyed her on these days in particular.
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A Bag of Chips a Day
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Coffee Stains
It was one of those fun names to write. Where all the lines
connected together nicely, even in my messy, broken-up cursive hand. I was the
perfect barista, but nobody could read my handwriting well enough to take
orders. I put down the sharpie and tossed the empty cup to Nate.
She had her head down, counting coins for perfect change. I
liked the way her bangs brushed her eyebrows, just covering her eyes from
sight.
I cleared my throat.
“So. Do people call you Ezzy for short?”
She jerked up, then looked up at me like I’d said something
offensive. She looked funny though, with her eyes screwed together in
overdramatic fury, and I couldn’t take her seriously.
“No, sir,” she said, abrupt, and dumped a couple of bills and
some change into my open palm. I made a sheepish face in apology, but then she
smiled and trilled out a laughed. Nate slid her drink across the counter. She
picked it up and tipped it at me as she walked out.
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