Graded in Red

Chapter Three

I couldn't believe I was back in my small hometown, even after the endless packing, the three-and-a-half-hour drive from the city, and unloading my stuff into my basement apartment. Yet, here I was, strolling into Murphy's Pub, a local joint owned by Scott and Cindy—two fixtures in Broken Arrow who seemed to thrive on the homemade brew that tasted like it could have been the elixir of life itself.

Broken Arrow was the epitome of a tight-knit community. With a community as small as ours everyone knew everyone else's business. It was both a perk and a pitfall. Growing up, I never encountered a stranger, but it also meant everyone was privy to my not-so-successful stint in the big city of Oklahoma City.

"Hey everyone! Look who's back! Mags!" Cindy's squeal echoed through the pub as she bolted from around the counter, enveloping me in a bear hug.

"Hey, Cindy! How's it going?" I gasped for air, trying to catch my breath after she almost squeezed it out of me. Her distinct scent, a curious mix of citrus and cigarette smoke, hit my nose. Not the most appealing aroma, but oddly enough, it hammered home the reality of being back.

"Oh, you know! My back's acting up, and Scott managed to fracture his hand with a falling beer crate! Same old, same old. But we're surviving," Cindy chuckled, heading back behind the bar. "Smithwicks for you, Mags?" she called out while multitasking like the pro she was.

"Absolutely! You remembered!" I beamed, feeling the sense of belonging. "Have you seen Vic? Supposed to meet here to chat about the start of the school year."

"Yeah, haven't spotted her yet. Grab a table, and I'll point her your way when she shows up. Oh, and food while you wait?" Cindy's notepad and pencil came out, ready to take my order.

"Got any specials today?" My stomach grumbled, reminding me it hadn't been fed since the gas station stop in the morning.

"We've got cheese fries, chili, and some broccoli soup with bread from the bakery down the street. Sound good?" Cindy offered.

"Perfect! I'll take the broccoli cheddar soup and a couple of slices of bread. Thanks, Cindy. You're a gem," I smiled, watching her head back to the kitchen amidst the bustling pub.

Looking around Murphy's, it was like peering through a time portal. The booths had that familiar green, cracked leather that could probably tell stories of its own. The place was bathed in that warm, dim light, giving it an old-timey charm. Cindy and Scott, the proprietors, had jazzed up some things—new beer mugs, fancy taps, and a gleaming POS system that looked like it was ready to navigate a spaceship. They were keeping the spirit alive, just with a touch of modern flair.

Then, like a plot twist I didn't want, my eyes landed on Bridgett Nickel. Time had taken its toll on her—deeply etched lines, hair clinging to life with its last ounce of bleach, and an outfit straight out of our high school days. The red halter top screamed a size too small, and the denim skirt, a throwback to another era, was more embroidered than a fancy tablecloth. Those red stilettos, though—still as bright and painful-looking as ever.

She was engaged in a heated conversation with a guy at the bar. The atmosphere around them screamed drama. He reached for her arm, she pulled back, and then suddenly, the guy pulled her in for a kiss. An awkward, messy display that could have been lifted from a soap opera. I couldn't decide if it was a reconciliation or a WWE match.

Just as I was getting swept into this real-life soap opera, someone sneaked up behind me. "Hey Mags, what are you staring at?"

I jumped, turning around to see Victoria Star, the person responsible for my near heart attack. "Victoria! You know, sneaking up on people is frowned upon in most cultures," I teased, pulling her into a quick hug.