• • • • •
Whitehall is on the east side of the Continental Divide, and most of the storms get trapped on the west side of the mountains. We rarely have storms in Whitehall because of our location. Usually any clouds roll on by, but some of the storms we get can be pretty fierce.
I’m at Rod’s Diner, cleaning tables and watching the dark clouds roll in. I just hope, since I have to bike home, that the storm is over by the time my shift is done. But these clouds look mean.
Larry is the manager of Rod’s, and he happens to be working tonight. I hate when Larry works, because he is a royal dick. Larry comes up to me as I’m washing off a table and says, “My deaf and dumb grandma moves faster.”
I want to say, “Then why isn’t she the manager?” But I keep quiet, and he moves on.
It’s a bit pathetic, but I keep looking at the door—even when the bell doesn’t ring—to see if Seth and Susan are standing there. I know it wouldn’t make sense for them to show up two nights in a row, but I can at least hope.
The clouds have completely taken over our little town, and it’s quite dark out, and as I’m watching the door, thinking about Seth and Susan, I hear thunder and the rain start to pour.
During my “lunch break,” which is after most people finish dinner, I head into the convenience store on the other side of the building to kill some time.
At the back of the store, there’s a small rack with books and magazines. I am browsing when a book catches my eye: Montana UFO Sightings. I knew there was a book, written by Meridian X, because there is a big clunky section on her website talking about it. The book has been out for about six months, but I never in a million years thought I’d see it at the convenience store in Whitehall, Montana.
I look around to see if anybody is paying attention to me. The coast is clear, so I pick up the book, with its slick green cover and a picture of a gray-and-white school yard with a black saucerlike object in the far right corner. The saucer does look like a UFO, but I am as skeptical as most. I know that the odds of seeing aliens and UFOs are minimal at best and that most people just make these things up. But I have to believe. It’s kind of a matter of life and death.
I want to buy the book, but I don’t have fifteen dollars on me. So I put it back.
When I get back from my lunch break, Rod’s Lame Diner is still empty. Larry walks right up to me, his cocky attitude in tow. “Listen, it’s slow. I’m going to let you go early tonight.”
I look out the window, and the sheets of rain show no sign of slowing. A river gushes from the rainspouts and down the asphalt to the road. “Uh. Okay.”
I head to the back hallway, which connects the break room, freezer, and kitchen together. After I clock out, I turn and see Tammy next to me. “I’m done with him, Charlie. He’s screwed up one too many times.”
I already know she’s talking about her boyfriend, Billy. Again.
“What did he do?” I want to add “this time,” but I stop myself.
“Last night he came home late. Like, three a.m. And I was like, ‘Where have you been?’ And he’s like, ‘The bar.’ And so I say, ‘Bars close at two. Where’ve you been for the last hour, huh?’ And he’s all like, ‘I walked around town.’ And I’m like, ‘Like hell you did.’ And he’s like, ‘I just needed some time to think.’ So I stormed to my bedroom and locked him out. He knocked on the door for a while and then just fell asleep on the couch. Dumb buffoon.
“My girlfriends say I need to dump his butt for good.” I wait to see if she’ll continue, but she just rubs her temples. “I better get back to work. I hear my few tips decreasing by the second.” She hustles back out to the dining room before I even have a chance to say anything.
I don’t see the rain lightening up anytime soon, so I head into the diner and take a seat at the table closest to the front door. The hostess sign half-blocks the table.
It takes Larry a few minutes to spot me, but he storms over. “Tables for customers only.”
“Are you serious? I work here.”
“Are you buying something?”
I stare at him, slightly dumbfounded that he’s really this anal about things.
“Customers only,” he repeats, and walks away.
There are three customers in the entire restaurant.
I go outside and stand under the gas pump awning. The pounding of the rain on the metal is deafening. I am stuck for as long as the storm rages on. It could be another five minutes or two hours.
I remember that I have Seth’s number but I have yet to text him my number. So I pull out my phone. Hey. This is Charlie.
After a few seconds: Hey, Charlie.
I look at his words and wonder what to say. I think about putting my phone away, but then I type: Now you have my number. I debate on adding a smiley face but think that’s probably too much emotion for the situation.
Feeling stupid after pressing send (he clearly knows he has my number now), I put my phone away. My phone vibrates, and I smile because he responded to my dumb text.
Glad to have it. What took you so long???
I smile like a dork, and my heart flutters. That text definitely caught me off guard. He hasn’t turned on me yet.
Sorry. Was at work. Stuck here until the storm lets up.
My phone stops vibrating.
Large puddles are forming, and the sides of the roads are small streams. I can’t believe the strength of this storm. I just want this to be over so I can get home.
A Toyota 4Runner pulls up next to me, and Seth sticks his head out the window. “Need a ride?” He grins.
“What are you doing?”
“Get in.”
“Really?”
“Oh, I have my bike.”
“Go get it. We’ll put it in back.”
I notice the smell of the car as I slide into the passenger seat. Seth’s car smells lemony in a distinct, artificial plastic sort of way. I wipe the water off my glasses.
“I didn’t know you drove. Or had a car.”
“I have my learner’s permit.” Seth grins. “And this is my mom’s car.”
Seth shifts into gear and then pulls onto the road that heads toward the main street. The only real street in town.
“If you have a learner’s permit, you can only drive if you’re with someone over eighteen,” I say.
Seth turns and grins at me again. He shrugs.
I’m freaked out that we’ll get into a car crash, but I’m also glad that I no longer have to wait for the storm to end.
He clears his throat, and he’s looking at me. “You’re welcome.”
“Oh. Thanks.”
“What are friends for?”
Friends. That’s a word I haven’t heard in years. It feels strange as I turn it over and over in my mind. I want to smile, but instead I tell him to watch the road, because he’s smiling at me.
I give Seth directions to my house, his wipers going a hundred miles a minute.
“Do you like working at that diner?”
“It’s not that bad. The manager is a jerk. But everyone else is cool.”
Seth nods. “My mom wants me to get a job this summer, but I’d rather spend my time taking pictures. I keep telling her that taking pictures will help me prepare for my future more. Don’t you get sick of that saying?”
“What saying?”
“ ‘Prepare for your future.’ ” The sound of the rain and the flip-flap of the windshield wipers are hard to ignore. “I hate that. Adults are always saying it.”
“Well, I’m only really working because I’m saving up for a truck. And then I won’t be stuck at work when it rains.”
“But then I won’t have the chance to pick you up.”
When he pulls up to my house, I notice how old, empty, and quiet it looks. My dad isn’t home yet from the bar.
I don’t want to go inside. I want to ask if Seth wants to hang out, but I also don’t want him to laugh at me or say no. But then I realize that he picked me up (illegally) without being asked, and he did kind of just throw out the ‘friend’ word, so maybe I have a chance.
“What are you doing tonight?” I ask.
“Not homework.”
“Want to . . . I don’t know. Hang out?”
He smiles. “Thought you’d never ask.”
“Your house?”
“Not yours? We’re already here.”
“No. . . . It’s . . . too messy.”
Seth stares at me a little longer before putting the car into gear and driving off, spraying a large fan of water from his tires. He swerves a bit, and I curse under my breath in fright. He just laughs.