ATLANTA GEORGIA
6th April, 1981

JAE

Shadowside Prep’s cafeteria was possibly the best-looking room in any school in the entire state of Georgia. It was as large as a ballroom and as opulent as one, too, what with its faux wood floors that always looked slick with oil, the matching faux wood benches, the Mona Lisa-esque paintings, and floor-to-ceiling frost glass windows that always made it seem like it was snowing outside. The three colossal Swarovski crystal-trimmed chandeliers that glinted when the sunlight hit them just right were something to behold. Even the Walker Family Manor, in all its grandeur, did not have chandeliers so spectacular.

If you came to this preposterous cafeteria for the first time, you would immediately assume that top-notch lunches were served there. That was where you went wrong. The opulence of this cafeteria ended in its appearance. The food was trash at best. And that was being kind.

Staring at the white-grey mass of mashed potatoes, the sickly-looking salad and beef strips that were literally still mooing on her tray, Jae felt her stomach shrivel up like a ball sac on a cold day. Jae was sure that if she tried to take a bite of anything on that tray, it would come right back. You would think a private school whose yearly tuition was the same as the price of a five-carat diamond ring would put more effort into their food.

The lunch lady —a stout woman with greying hair covered by a hairnet, a mole on her chin, and arms like tree trunks— watched Jae staring at the food, an amused smile twitching her lips, “It tastes better than it looks. Now, skedaddle girl. You are holding up the line. Everyone’s gotta taste this goodness.”

Jae barely resisted the urge to laugh out loud as she walked to her seat. Who knew lunch ladies could be so funny? Taste this goodness? Ha! Joke of the century. If Jae was acquaintances with the lunch lady, she would advise the lunch lady to quit lunch-ladying and consider a career in comedy because cooking clearly wasn’t her forte.

“Did you write anything on the test?” Rowan asked, sitting next to her at their usual table at the back of the cafeteria.

“Were you watching me the whole time?”

Rowan grinned. “Only the time when I was thinking of what to write. And all those times you were not writing.”

“What did you want me to write?” Jae snapped. “Mr. Valencia is lucky that I even wrote my name. That test was so damn hard.”

“Cheer up, Jae,” Rowan said. “I’m sure you aced it.”

There was optimism, and then there was delusion. What Rowan had said was along the fine lines of delusion. Even if all the fairy godmothers in existence were put to work on her test score, Jae would still not ace it. All Jae was praying for right now was that her grade was anything but an F. It could be an E, an O, an X, Y, Z. —anything. As long as it was not an F.

“I know what will cheer you up.” Rowan piped up. “Dad jokes!”

“Rowan, please,” Jae begged. The only thing worse than Mr. Valencia’s test were Rowan’s dad jokes. They were so unfunny, they were funny. Does that make sense?

“What do a tick and the Eiffel Tower have in common?”

Here we go, Jae thought. “I don’t know.”

“They are both Paris-sites.” Rowan said, then burst out laughing, banging the table uncontrollably, tears in his eyes.

Jae stared at him. “I don’t get it.”

“The Eiffel Tower is a Paris site, and a tick is a . . . Nevermind. I have another one. A man with a penis for a nose walks into a bar, and the bartender says ‘why the schlong face’?”

Jae frowned. “Why would anyone have a penis for a nose? And why would a man with a penis for a nose be walking into a bar? Shouldn’t he go see a doctor instead?” Maybe the humor behind dad jokes was lost on her because she was a woman. Maybe dad jokes were meant to be understood by other dads.

“Fine,” Rowan sighed, his patience wearing thin. “I have one last one. If you don’t get it, you will have to cheer yourself up. What did the janitor say when he jumped out of the closet?”

“I’m gay?” Jae joked, giggling with herself.

Rowan threw up his hands. “No, supplies! He says supplies! Goodness, I can’t with you. This lumpy glob of mashed potatoes could understand dad jokes better than you.”

Jae picked up her tray, ready to chuck the mashed potatoes at Rowan. How dare he compare her to a glob of mashed potatoes? Jae had started to raise her tray when she heard a peal of dramatic sighs behind her.

Yeah, you guessed it. Sam had arrived.

“You would think Mr. Valencia would spare us, considering we have spent half the school term acting in his stupid movie. He basically asked us what Jane Austen ate for dinner. How is anyone supposed to know that?” Sam slammed her tray on the desk, plopping herself on the seat, and sighed three times. As if one sigh would not suffice.

The first thing Jae noticed when she turned her attention to Sam was that Sam was not wearing a wig, which was a first. Her natural hair had been combed out in an impressive curly afro. The second thing was that Sam was not wearing a bra, which was also a first. Her nipples stood out like pebbles under her white crop top. All the things she’d noticed seemed to take a backseat when Jae spotted the sapphire necklace dangling from Sam’s neck. Jae felt her stomach shrivel up, and this time, it had nothing to do with the trashy food.

It made sense that Tyler had given the sapphire necklace he’d originally bought for her to Samantha. They were dating after all. Jae had just thought that Tyler would keep it as an artifact of their relationship, something to remind him of her.

As if summoned by her thoughts, Tyler sauntered over to their table, an apple in hand and sat next to Sam, his arm finding its way around her waist, pulling her close, his eyes never leaving Jae’s as he planted the world’s longest kiss on Sam’s lips. Tyler was wearing a white hoodie and jeans. Jae looked between Sam and Tyler, then fumbled with the cover of orange juice and chugged, almost choking on the tasteless fluid.

They were wearing matching outfits.

Rowan gave her knee a squeeze under the table and smiled at her. Jae smiled back. She could do this. She could look at Sam and have a conversation without scratching her eyes out in jealousy. She could look at Tyler and not wallow in the past. She could look at Rowan and enjoy the future they were making for themselves. It would be as easy as pie.

Jae was becoming as funny as the lunch lady. Maybe even funnier.

The knee-squeeze gesture didn’t escape Sam’s gaze. “You two are together, aren’t you?” Sam asked. When Rowan nodded in the affirmative, Sam screeched like a bat in danger. “Yes! Oh my God, we can finally go on double dates. You and Rowan. Me and Tyler. We could go to Giuseppe’s. Yippee!”

Absolutely not. The only images that came to mind when Jae tried to envisage the possibility of a double date with Sam and Tyler were Rowan and Tyler at each other’s throats. Not happening.

Still elated by the idea of a double date, Sam nudged Tyler, who was simmering with barely repressed anger. His usually brown eyes had darkened into black expressionless abysses. His grip on the apple was crushing, and he was clenching his jaw. Anyone within a five-mile radius could tell that Tyler was livid. But Sam, being Sam, did not seem to notice the raging storm behind Tyler’s apparently calm demeanor.  “Wouldn’t that be nice, Tyler?”

“Yeah, sure,” Tyler said, taking a bite of his apple. “Set the date.”

“How about Saturday next week?” Sam asked, looking around the table expectantly. 

“I’ll check my schedule.” Rowan, ever the diplomat, answered.

How about the 12th of never? Does that sound good? Jae almost said, but she found herself biting her lip to keep from making an awkward situation more awkward.

Never before had Jae met someone so socially clueless in her life. Anyone with half a brain could tell that Rowan and Jae’s budding relationship was an edgy topic, but Sam just kept going on and on and on. This was one of Sam’s fatal flaws. She didn’t know how to read a room. You could harbor a feud with Sam your whole life, and she would not notice until you came out and told her you hated her. It was like she lived in her own universe. A universe where she was the center of everything. A universe where she was the pot of gold at the end of every rainbow.

“So are you going as dates for the Closing Night?” Sam asked, and Jae barely resisted the urge to kick her under the table. Jae wanted to scream.

Closing Night was what you would essentially call a wrap party. It was the party that Mr. Valencia was throwing in this cafeteria on Saturday for the cast and crew to celebrate the completion of filming. The cast and crew members were taking Closing Night very seriously, going as far as making exuberant proposals so that they could get plus-ones for the party. They were taking Closing Night as seriously as if it were Prom. It was all everyone was talking about.

Rowan nodded in the affirmative. From the way Rowan went on to tell Sam all the details of how he’d asked Jae to be his date to the Closing Night with gusto, Jae could tell he’d been dying to tell someone the story. And Sam had all but given him a microphone. Jae just wished that he’d not told the story in front of Tyler. Not that she cared much about Tyler’s feelings. It was just that Jae was getting rather frightened of the menacing looks Tyler was sending her across the table. He was looking at her like she was some harlot on the street.

Like she’d somehow betrayed him.

Rowan’s proposal had been an adorable, albeit simple one. He’d taken her to his gazebo (her favorite place in his house) and they’d drunk his parents’ champagne and shared white Toblerones (Jae’s favorite chocolates) and then he’d taken her under the stars, gone down on one knee, slipped his class ring onto her finger, and asked her to be his date to the Closing Night. They’d kissed under the stars when Jae said yes. That had been Jae’s favorite part.

For Jae, kissing under the stars had meant that the stars were consenting to their relationship, that the stars were witnessing the beginning of what they had brought together.

Rowan didn’t get to reach that part of the story, though. The story came to a screeching halt when Tyler abruptly stood up from the bench, muttering expletives, threw his half-eaten apple in the bin by the door, and stormed out. Sam apologized on his behalf and ran after him, his name bursting incessantly from her lips like a sheep’s bleat.

And that was their lunch break —a succession of jealous stares, menacing looks, and awkward conversations.

Jae was on her way to class, her books held like a teddy bear in front of her chest when a hand grabbed her wrist, causing the books to scatter all over the floor. She looked up at Tyler, who was gripping her wrist with so much force, his nails digging into her skin. “Let me go, Tyler. You are hurting me!”

Tyler did not let her go. If anything, the pressure on her hand doubled. Jae could feel the bones in her wrist shifting. “You are making a mistake by going to the Closing Night with Rowan. You are mine. Mine!” He growled. In another lifetime, Jae would have found that growl sexy. Today, she found that growl petrifying.

Jae told him to let her go one more time. When he didn’t comply, her other hand, the one that was not being manhandled by Tyler, raised in a perfect arc and swung through the air in slow motion, landing on Tyler’s cheek

The slap didn’t echo dramatically as it did in the movies. But it still attracted the attention of everyone in the hallway. They all stood like statues, their mouths forming surprised ‘O’ shapes. She hadn’t meant to slap him. Her hand had moved of its own accord. At least Tyler was no longer crushing her hand. He punched her locker, leaving a fist-shaped dent, pushed his way through the growing crowd, and disappeared down a corner. He was gone.

Had Jae known what would happen on Closing Night, she would have taken Tyler’s words for what they were. A threat.

★★★

I’m not so horrible that I would leave you with such a cliffhanger. The next chapter is out. Go find out what happened on Closing Night.