Cheat Sheets

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Thirteen

After a full three days of the silent treatment from Josh, he finally cornered me in the corridor this morning and apologised his lying little ass off. “I’ve had a lot on my case recently with the punk that’s messing me around and the football season finishing, I’m sorry I haven’t made time for you as much.”

And so I’d begrudgingly agreed to let him take me out tonight. Braeden hadn’t sounded too happy about it when he caught me applying lip balm in the mirror on my locker just before school was dismissed; he’d had a few choice words to say about Josh before I’d brushed off his spiteful comments and kissed his chin.

It took a lot of effort on my part to let Josh hold my hand as we walked to the deli together. All I wanted to do was punch his smug little face in until it concaved. A little violent, but the prick deserved it and so much more.

“Que Sera Sera” I dismiss, following him through the deli’s doors and up to the counter.

He stares back at me over his shoulder in confusion. “What is that, French?”

Oh his naïve little mind. I roll my eyes and give him my best smile. “No, it’s Italian, it’s from a song. You know, Doris Day, ‘Whatever Will Be Will Be’?” At his blank expression, I fumble for some elaboration. “’The Man who knew too much’, ’Please Don’t Eat the Daisies’? C’mon man these are some timeless classics here!”

“It’s not important.” And before I can argue over the importance of some of my favourite classical movies, Josh is at the counter and ordering us our usual sandwiches. Despite the fact that he always punts for the same flavour, he still spends about ten minutes intensely studying the menu before deciding. It irritates me.

So I leave him to it and go to our table, the same table Josh always makes us sit at away from everybody else. I only now realise that he chose this table because he’s embarrassed to be seen with me. Braeden wouldn’t do that, Braeden would have asked the people in the window seats to move so that he can show me off to the world, and he would have held my hand on the table top. Josh is truly pathetic.

A couple of minutes later Josh appears and slides my sandwich across the table to me; a lettuce, cucumber and red onion concoction that I absolutely detest. But I was too fragile at first to point out to Josh my loathing for this sandwich, I’d thought it sweet that he’d picked me my food for me when in fact all it was is a subtle clue that I needed to diet.

Giving the sandwich the stink eye, I push it away from me.

Josh eyes me curiously as he takes a large bite of his ham and cheese. “What’s wrong with your sub?”

I shrug and lean back in my seat. “I hate onions. No, hate is too weak to describe how I feel about onions; I loathe them to hell and back. I’m sorry; I really can’t eat this crappy sandwich anymore. I like beef and pork and chicken and BBQ, and it’s my choice what I put into my body. If I want to eat a beef and cheese melt, I will eat a beef and cheese melt!” I practically bellow.

Opposite me, Josh’s eyes skate around the restaurant as he grins apologetically at the other customers. “Now is not the time for fat empowerment, Keira, just sit down.”

Against his orders, I cut him a sardonic glare and march up to the counter, order myself my favourite sandwich and bring it back to the table where I then precede to slather it in BBQ sauce.

“Happy now?”

I smile at him and bite into my sandwich, happy when a string of cheese drips down my chin as I pull the melt away. “Yeah, actually, I am.”