Willa & the Extraordinary Internship

CH. 9

By the time the girls arrived at the Little Sunflower, Maryam had forgotten she was still piqued with Willa, and had borrowed her travel-size retractable kabuki brush from Willa's purse and was touching up her bronzer. She handed it back and their fingers touched.

Truce, Willa thought with giddy certainty, accepting the makeup brush with as much reverence as she'd hold the Olympic torch or the goddess Athena's olive branch.

Cyn swung one modelesque leg after the other out of the car. "We're so far from the door!" she complained.

Willa and Maryam looked at her shoes. Pointy, fuck-me stilettos in inky midnight-blue. "How can you walk in that?" Willa couldn't help but ask, wiggling her own toes inside her comfy, slightly scuffed peep-toe leopard-print ballet flats.

"With the absolute certainty that no guy would dare look away," Cyn grinned, pirouetting.

Willa rolled her eyes, but let Cyn take the lead as she strutted into the restaurant, ambling behind and observing the gazes of men (men with dates!) lustily drink in the oasis of sinewy golden legs that went on forever before dragging their eyes back to their companions.

"She was right," Maryam whispered in Willa's ear. She squeezed Willa's hand. I'm sorry.

Willa squeezed back. I'm sorry too.

"Table for three," Cyn announced to the hostess. As the three trailed after her, Cyn stage-whispered loudly, "oh my gawdddd. She needs a better bra. It looks like the giant uniboob is going to climb up the Empire State Building and fight King Kong."

Maryam's eyes flared in warning at the same moment Willa's cheeks burned. She felt her toes curling inside her shoes in absolute mortification.

"Someone will be here in a few moments to take your order. Enjoy your dinner." The hostess laid out three menus on the white tablecloth. When she looked up, her eyes were glassy. Cyn didn't notice; she'd already flounced down on her seat and was scanning the wine list.

Willa felt her heart clench. She wanted to say she was sorry, but the hostess didn't give any of them a backward glance. "Cynthia Smoak, that was awful," she hissed as she sat down.

Maryam followed suit. "I can't believe you said that in front of her."

"I didn't." Cynthia looked up, eyes wide and innocent.

"Behind her back, then," Willa interjected. She wanted to push the point, wanted to vomit out all the things she really felt but never said. She knew that it was childish, but she wanted the smile to fall from Cyn's lips as she realized with absolute, devastating clarity that nobody else thought she was as awesome as she thought she was.

"Is the view really nice from up there?" Cyn asked. At their blank looks, she grinned incorrigibly. "From your moral high ground! Girls, I'm famished, let's just eat, drink, and be merry, okay?" She exaggeratedly fluttered her eyelashes. "I'm heartbroken. Don't kick me when I'm down."

"Ninety-nine point nine-nine positive you'll get over it within a week," Willa said dryly at the same moment Maryam faux-coughed "make it a day". She couldn't help it, the relieved giggle that escaped her lips. Things were back to normal. Cyn was being Cyn, she and Maryam had made up, and all that was left was to run her book by Cyn. She felt magnanimous; maybe she would even give Cyn the right to veto the whole thing if it really made her that uncomfortable, as Maryam thought it might.

A shadow fell over the table. In unison, the three girls looked up. An attractive blond waiter tonelessly asked if they were ready to order drinks, not looking any of them in the face. The Little Sunflower was an uppity place, even if you were a regular. The wait staff were snooty and stiff, unlike the exuberant, bubbly waiters at Applebees or IHOP.

All three of them ordered cosmopolitans and decided to order an appetizer of crispy green bean fries with honey djon mustard to split. Willa relaxed as she listened to Cyn's mocking impressions of Grayson; his weird eccentricities about not calling dogs human names and hating it when Cyn stuck her cold feet under his bum for warmth when they were watching movies. Their drinks arrived and Willa smiled up at the waiter in thanks, the upturn of her mouth fading when she saw his eyes. It wasn't just haughty disdain, but genuine, glittering anger that looked back at her. His mouth was tight, compressed into a thin line like he couldn't wait to get away from them.

Again, shame stabbed at Willa. He probably thought they were stupid, rude girls who thought they were better than the waitress, who made a habit of catty comments over cosmos. She wanted to tell him she wasn't like Cyn, not one bit. Her friends were blissfully unaware, munching on their appetizer and talking trash about Grayson. Willa watched the waiter's retreating back as he headed back to the kitchen. There were so many things she didn't say, Willa realized. Things like it's not cool that you disrespected Grayson or you may think your jokes are funny, but to everyone else, they're just mean. The only reason they all laughed was because they were on the laughing side and wanted to keep it that way.

Willa wanted to shrivel up. Cyn's laughter was grating on her and in a moment of blind anger, she blurted out, "I wrote a book."

Author's Note: Uh oh! What could the repercussions of Willa's admission be? Let me know what you think!