Everything You Want Me to Be(16)
I was walking out with Maggie and Portia when Mr. Lund stopped me.
“Hattie the cashier.” He smiled as he erased his notes on the board.
“Peter the customer.”
“Let’s go with Mr. Lund, all right?”
“All right.” I gave him a little wave and left for lunch.
Maybe it was Mr. Lund’s attitude or just the promise of some actual literary discussions, but whatever the reason, I forgot about being excited for the end of the year. Now I was excited for what the year might bring.
I worked the photo counter at CVS. It was way easier than working on the farm and they actually paid me here. All I had to do was develop pictures and run the cash register and sometimes I helped the old ladies pick out greeting cards for their grandkids. They always wanted to get the 99-cent ones with generic teddy bears on them. I thought they were being cheap until one of the pharmacy techs told me how much they spent on their meds every month. Jesus, remind me not to get old. I must keep in good health, and not die.
The store was pretty quiet when I punched in after school. Usually the rush came when the first shift at the plant finished and then again after five when the Rochester commuters got back into town. I pulled a blue smock over my New York outfit and started downloading picture files from the website and sending them to the printer. They were mostly kids’ birthdays and holidays, sometimes a wedding or a vacation to Branson. Once there were two hundred pictures from Hawaii and another time someone had gone to Paris. I must have stared at the Paris pictures for hours, seeing myself sitting in those little cafés and strolling over the bridges, meeting a fashion photographer and going backstage at a runway show. I had the whole trip completely imagined, but when the lady came in to pick them up, she said it was just a layover on a business trip. My version was so much better.
It was always women who got pictures. Ninety-nine percent of the time when a guy came to the counter, they were picking up for someone else, like Mr. Lund did last week. The scrapbook ladies developed the most and they always told me what kind of album they were working on and showed me a picture or two, like I hadn’t already peeked at all of them.
As I finished today’s downloads, Tommy Kinakis walked over.
“Hey, Tommy.”
He nodded and opened his mouth, but nothing came out.
“You picking up some pictures?” I prompted, trying to help him out. He looked flustered and kind of wet.
“Yeah, for my mom. Told her I’d get ’em after football practice.”
“Is that why you’re all sweaty?”
He huffed out a laugh and ran a hand through his hair, leaving it standing up in spikes. “Coach rode us pretty hard today. First game’s Friday night. You coming?”
Tommy and I had gone to school together since kindergarten, just like most Pine Valley kids. I’d known him when he was throwing rocks on the playground. I’d watched him give his country report on Germany in sixth grade, when he didn’t know anything about WWII and flushed like a Red Delicious in front of the whole class. By high school he’d grown bigger and taller than my dad and he didn’t talk much since his voice changed. He had dirty-blond hair and baby-blue eyes that darted around skittishly.
I pulled his mom’s pictures and rang him up. “I don’t think I can. They’ve got me scheduled to work on Friday.”
“Here?” He looked around like he wasn’t sure the place was real.
“Yeah, somebody’s got to keep an eye on the store.”
“Don’t know why. Everyone’s going to be at the game.” He pulled out a faded leather wallet and handed me a twenty.
“Right? That’s what I keep saying.” To no one. Ever.
Tommy nodded, all serious as he took his change. The subject of football seemed to loosen his tongue.
“You should come. We’re going to destroy Greenville. Wipe the field with those bastards.”
“I know we will.”
“They’re not going to lay one finger on Derek.” He pounded the counter with a fist. “We got the best QB in the region this year.”
I had zero responses for that, so I just tossed him a flirty smile. He softened immediately and ducked his head as he stuffed his wallet away.
“I’m sure your boss can find someone else to work.”
“That would be awesome.” I was never in a million years going to ask my manager about it.
He finally raised his eyes and took the pictures from me, blurting, “I’ll watch for you in the stands.”
Half a grin, a spin, and he hurried out of the store.
I was confused for the next half an hour. Tommy Kinakis? What had I ever done to interest Tommy Kinakis? He sure wouldn’t like me if I told him I had specifically asked to work Friday nights.
Football was just one more thing that separated me from everyone else in this town. I’d never gotten what was so great about smashing into a bunch of beefy guys and throwing a pointy ball around, but no one else in Pine Valley agreed with me. Every resident from age ten to a hundred and ten could tell you the names of the varsity roster, and they all showed up for each home game, screaming and cheering so loud I could hear the roar from in here. I liked working during games because the store was always completely dead; I could read books from the bestseller rack or paint my nails until the game was over and then everyone remembered some pictures or a card they had to pick up and mobbed the place. Before I knew it the shift was over, and all my coworkers loved that I let them have the night off.