The Geek Revolution ✓

05 | athlete

MOM WILL NOT LET US move back to California.

"I know you're missing your friends," understatement, "and you might not gel with everyone you meet, but just give it some time. You will find a place here. Even Luke is finding silver linings in this town."

That last part is true. He's found an extracurricular to join that doesn't mandate staring at a screen. Luke has a soccer trial today, which ends at five. Way after the free school buses finish their routes. Mom tasked me with picking him up afterwards and getting us home on public transport, so I've two hours to kill before I need to be at the middle school.

Considering I spent most of my summer unpacking and helping Mom decorate, sometimes sight-seeing, I still have a long list of places to visit in Carsonville. I've been planning to visit this café in the town centre for a while. A wooden sign nailed above the door reads The Stereo Shack in a messy, painted font. A bell jingles when I walk in, announcing my entrance with light chimes.

Instantly, a wall of warmth, the smell of coffee and baked sweets wafts over me. Inside, it reminds me of Santa's workshop when it's not in Christmas getup – quaint, warmly lit, natural decor. Bishop, being far smaller than Carsonville, never bothered with the pretences of pretty storefronts and glistening advertising. So I like this place already. The Stereo Shack seems like such a cool hangout.

While waiting in the small line of three people, I decide to order a chocolate frappe and a cinnamon roll from an entire menu of tempting treats. After paying, taking a number and finding a seat, I have time to take a good look around.

In the corner closest to my booth, an unlit fireplace gapes open. Most of the cafe is dark, grainy wood, giving it a natural rustic atmosphere. Globe lights hang from the ceiling, radiating warm golden light. Twinkling fairy lights snake their way through the room and posters of photographic scenes hang on the walls.

True to its name, each table or booth has either a portable radio, boom box or stereo. Each one plays the same channel, the sounds combining so it seems the room is singing to me. There are quite a few people here, but not so much that it is crowded. Most of them are couples that share a booth, cuddled up to each other.

As I am tucking into my afterschool snack, the bell jingles, indicating a new customer. The door swings open, and I am in the path of the draught that follows.

In strolls a tall boy, wearing a Letterman jacket with our school's initials stitched neatly on the front. I recognise him with such speed that it surprises me. I haven't even spoken to him, yet I am already so used to his face.

I know him from my AP Biology classes over the last two days, and from Terrence's foul group of friends. Seeing him reminds me of the cafeteria incident on Monday, and the excitement of food is swept away by frustration.

The tall boy scans the booths, in such a way that it looks like he's searching for someone. Maybe a girlfriend?

With subtle movements, I position the frappe glass in front of me, and lean down in my seat so that it might hide the lower half of my face from him. But then, his eyes land on me and light up like fireworks on the fourth of July. That idiotic smirk is back on his face and he starts to make his way over to me.

Oh, hell no. Turn away now, or risk getting your eyeballs gouged out with a fork. I'm feeling ultra moody after Mom shot down my proposal to re-relocate. I came here to enjoy some heavenly food, not some bully bent on controlling everyone. Go away, go away, go away—

He doesn't go away.

In fact, the closer he comes, and the more rage he sees smouldering in my eyes, the more intent he seems. When he does eventually take the space opposite me, I give him a saccharine smile; the sort with scrunched nose and narrowed eyes. Almost a grimace.