Born Wicked

LI

I've spent more than two hours with an empty cup. I keep waiting for Paige or the other barista to hurry me along, yet no one says anything.

I've noticed what Paige meant. Every customer since me has ordered some fancy, neurotic type of caffeinated, and even non-caffeinated, concocted craziness. Double chai latte with half the foam, sugar free caramel syrup (yuck) and milk substitute (double yuck). Mint chocolate cappuccino with double the foam, no milk, extra sweet n low. God.

Each one more detailed than the last. Each one focused on her every movement like she may not be able to handle something as simple as coffee. Although, with some of these orders, NASA might have struggled.

I've spent the majority of my time staring out the large plate glass window at the town of Beverly. Same hustle and bustle of Wednesday in Salem. Just more anonymous, at least for me.

"So," Paige says placing a fresh cup of coffee in front of me. "You've been here a long time."

I start. "Oh," I say as my heart steadies. "Do I need to go?"

She shakes her head and then eyes me thoughtfully for a moment. "No," she replies simply. "I was just making an observation."

I eye the coffee in front of me and feel the lump of change in my pocket. "How much do I owe you?"

She waves me off, sitting across from me sipping from her own cup. "Nothing. Refills are on the house. I'm on break, thought I'd sit with you –that is if you don't mind the company?"

"I don't," I say softly.

She nods and we have an awkward moment of silence. The kind of silence that says we don't really know each other.

She clears her throat. "So, we're having a good season, don't you think?"

I inwardly cringe. "Yeah," I nod. "Coach is pretty happy with our win record so far."

She murmurs assent and we sit there silent. Again. God.

After about two minutes of agonizing, uncomfortable quiet, Paige leans forward. The movement is so sudden I jump back slightly.

"Listen," she says quietly. "You need to be careful around Ethan Call."

I startle. "What?"

She glances around, ensuring we're going unnoticed before she says, "Ethan Call isn't who, or what, you think he is."

"How do you know that?" I ask her, my voice thin and harsh.

"Shh," she hisses softly. "I know because I know his cousin, Davis."

I frown. "Davis?"

She nods. "You don't know him?"

I shrug. "I've heard of him, but I haven't met him."

She eyes me warily, "Jayme-Lynn, he sits behind you in English and he's in your Spanish and Art classes."

It takes a moment for me to picture the tall, gangly kid with long dark hair and really bad acne who sits silent and sullen behind me in class. "Dave?" I say incredulously.

She nods. "Dave. As in Davis? Davis Call."

"Well, who is he? I mean, what does that mean?"

She frowns. "You're kidding me, right?"

I shake my head, "Paige, I don't know what you're talking about and what the hell do you know about the Calls?"

"Fuck," she groans. "You mean to tell me you've been hanging out with Julian Cross and you have no idea who the Calls are?" She leans back in her seat. "Doesn't he know?"