The October Malice ༄ (gxg)

eight, the diner

Saturdays were her favorite days.

The air always seemed just a tad brighter and crisper and easier to breathe. She didn't have to drag herself out of bed like a zombie to get to class; her parents also slept in which meant she didn't have to deal with her mother; and she had the whole day to herself to do whatever she wanted. That Saturday, as much as she wanted to stay inside and read, Sam beseeched her to go down to the local diner with Arnie, Jules, and Stephen—the usuals—and Sam was always so convincing.

The diner was the place everyone knew. It had been constructed in the early fifties and never renovated. It was a place stuck in time with its black and white checkered floors, metal stools, and red ballooned booths. Beyond the metal bar where old men sat as soon as the diner opened in the mornings to drink coffee and read the newspaper was the kitchen where the cooks, whom everyone knew, sizzled hamburger patties and fried French fries.

The leftovers of that morning's array of donuts sat in the middle of the bar, and Arnie had persuaded Penny, the waitress, to let him have one on the house—well, more like he stole one and Penny scolded him but then proceeded to roll her eyes playfully and let the rascal have it.

They sat in the place they always sat—the booth at the far right corner away from all the old geezers who always stared suspiciously at them as if they were going to stand up on the tables and hold everyone hostage while they robbed the cash register. The only thing they ever did was steal the stale, glazed donuts under Penny's allowing eye.

Opal sat next to the window while Sam and Stephen sat beside her, and across from them sat Arnie and Jules who were cuddled up as always. Opal peered behind Sam's shoulder to see that Stephen was eyeing the couple inconspicuously with hatred.

Sam and Arnie were chatting on about different things while Jules sat on her phone and tuned out the conversation. Jules was always a little quiet, not out of timidity, but because she had her own all-girl friend group who mostly lived on the East side of town with the preppies. She was really only in their group because she and Arnie had been together since high school, and Arnie and Sam had been best friends since childhood.

Opal was only in the friend group because of Sam, and Stephen had somehow gotten drawn in even though he was consistently the fifth wheel. Opal sometimes felt bad for him and would try to include him in the conversations, but he was always so quiet and shy, especially when Arnie was around.

"Are you okay?" Sam whispered to her once there was a quiet moment in the conversation and Arnie had turned his attention to Jules.

Not having realized that she'd been staring hard at the metallic table in front of them, Opal blinked and snapped herself out of it. "Yea," she chirped, looking up at Sam who was suddenly very close to her. Her chocolatey brown eyes were almost molten in their circular vessels, her tanned skin so flawless and soft-looking. Her bangs had grown a bit too long and were sitting right above her dark, perfected eyebrows. Sometimes Opal looked at Sam—really looked at her, and she would get a sudden influx of all the feelings that she had felt when their romance had begun in high school. Maybe it was just because it was a Saturday.

Either way, she smiled at the brunette's effortless beauty and leaned into her, feeling content with the way Sam brightly grinned at Opal's unusual display of random affection. She slipped her arm around the blonde's lower back, pulling her in and giving a quick peck to her temple.

Opal could tell by the way that Sam's hand gripped her waist just a little harder than usual that she would be asking to spend the night that night, and an excitement that she hadn't felt in a long time grew within her.

But, of course, she was reminded of flaming wisps of red hair and gentle blue eyes, and that excitement morphed into ugly guilt that formed a lump in her throat.