Trust(35)

“That was exciting,” said Hang, following behind. “I’ve never nearly been in a fight before.”

I gave her two thumbs up. She’d stayed by my side, right up until John’s intervention. That deserved respect.

“Fighting at school again? Seriously, Edie?” said John.

“She started it.” I slipped into my seat, shoulders rounded. Feeling like the naughty child did not go with my outfit.

“Yeah, and you were about to end it.” He took the desk behind me, face still distinctly unhappy. “The amount of shit that hitting Erika would have landed you in is not worth it. You know that.”

“I should have just let her insult my friend?”

“You’d made your point. You didn’t need to throw any punches.”

“Right.” I turned back to face the front. He didn’t understand and I wasn’t in the mood to explain. Someone like him had probably never been bullied in his life.

“What happened to not caring what people say, hmm?” he continued. “I’m trying to get things together here and I’ve already got a record. I won’t get dragged into your bullshit again, understood?”

Outraged, I turned back. “My memory must be faulty. John, can you run the bit by me where I asked for your help?”

The blue of his eyes turned ice cold. He likely thought “bitch.”

I definitely thought “asshole.”

Lucky for all, the teacher walked in then, calling for order. The weight of John’s pissed-off gaze drilled into my back throughout class, however. What with him not being my keeper, this did not impress me at all. Neither did the niggling idiotic, completely wrong feeling of guilt.





We got lucky with the job hunt. A new smoothie place was about to open at Rock Creek Plaza. Hang and I got there just as the manager began sticking the Help Wanted sign in the front window. Talk about timing. The store consisted mostly of shiny stainless-steel juicers and blenders and the like. Giant pictures of fruit and lots of eye-bleedingly bright orange trim.

Bouncing on the balls of her feet, Ingrid, the manager, told us to come back the next afternoon for training. It turned out she did a lot of bouncing. I don’t know if she was snorting sugar or just high on life. Either way, Ingrid had energy to spare. I liked her, even if just watching her did wear me out.

“This is the Summer Sunrise,” said Ingrid with great enthusiasm, waving her gloved hands around as she spoke. “A handful of raw squash and pumpkin pieces, some orange segments, a squeeze of lemon, a couple of leaves of lettuce, a cup of ice, and a sprinkling of chia seeds.”

Hang studied the lumpy concoction with an impressively straight face. “Awesome.”

“Isn’t it?” With practiced ease, Ingrid put the ingredients into the commercial blender and the blades whirred to life. “It only needs thirty seconds. Any questions?”

“No, I don’t think so,” I said, pasting a professional smile on my face. “Looks tasty.”

“It really is. We’re going to have so much fun working together, girls. I can’t wait.” Ingrid poured the murky orange mixture into a cup and handed it my way. “You can have this one, Edie.”

“Oh. Thanks.” I took one tiny hesitant sip, trying not to taste anything, doing my best not to gag. When I started coughing, however, Hang smacked me on the back, forcing the Summer Sunrise to slide down my throat.

“What do you think?” asked Ingrid.

My eyes watered. “Wow. Yummy.”

“Right? We’ll make the Green Berry Blitz next for you, Hang,” said Ingrid. “It’s got kale, cabbage, celery, and strawberries in it. I can’t begin to tell you how good it is for your digestive tract.”

Fear filled Hang’s eyes. “I can’t wait.”

“You’re so lucky, Hang,” I said.

“Drink up, Edie,” she bit back.

“Ingrid?” A woman stood in the doorway, viewing us with open disgust. She was all sharp edges, dressed in a designer tracksuit.

“Susan! What great timing.” Ingrid put a little something extra into her bounce. “These are the part-time girls I hired, Hang and Edie.”

Susan said nothing, nor did her look of abhorrence lessen.

“Girls, this is the owner, Susan,” Ingrid continued, unaware. “She invented all of these fantastic recipes by herself—isn’t that amazing?”

Our best smiles in place, we both dutifully nodded.

“Outside. Now.” Susan turned on her heel, marching back out.

“Sure thing!” With a wave of her fingers, Ingrid followed. “Won’t be a moment, girls.”

We watched them go in silence.

I poked a straw into the cold orange mush, stirring it round and round. “For someone with a healthy digestive tract, Susan doesn’t seem very happy.”

“I was just thinking that.”

And for all of her niceness, Ingrid didn’t seem to exactly be the brightest. She’d left the door wide open. Fragments of their conversation, or more accurately, of Susan tearing into the woman, floated through the store. “. . . we’re selling people the idea of good health. Does that girl look healthy? Does her body say Susan’s Smoothies to you? Or does it say ‘I just ate a box of donuts and I’m going back for more’? Well? I can’t believe . . . The little Asian one can stay. We don’t want to look racist. But you need to get back in there immediately and fire that . . .”