reminding me of the source of my unease. “How can I help you?” I asked, slipping easily into my professional tone.
“I heard you… help people? With awkward situations?” Her voice was timid, and I got the feeling that this whole idea made her nervous. I definitely couldn’t imagine this girl breaking up with anyone herself-she was just too nice. This meant I’d be helping her, so, despite what David thought, I was a good person.
“Yes, I break up with people,” I said matter-of-factly, since I was pretty sure she could never spit the sentence out. “For a small fee,” I added hastily. I didn’t enjoy taking money from people, but I wasn’t putting myself through this for fun. She blushed slightly at my words, a pronounced pink that I’d bet her boyfriend thought was adorable.
“Oh, of course. How much is it?” She was just so soft-spoken and polite, it almost hurt to tell her my fee. I thought it might break the glass bubble surrounding her.
“Fifty,” I remarked with another look around to make sure David wasn’t lurking in a corner. She balked a little at the price but quickly rearranged her expression into one of neutrality.
“That’s fine. So how exactly do we do this?”
I exhaled, not wanting to deal with this when I was in such a state of panic. I pulled out a crumpled piece of paper and quickly scribbled my email address onto it. I thrust the paper at her, beginning to feel a bit impatient that I wasn’t already in my car on my way home. Safe.
“Send me this boy’s name, age, three points of interest, and the date you need the job finished by. I’ll also need your contact information in case there are any questions I may have about the boy.” I said this all quickly and stiffly, as if I had memorized it long ago and it was just something I recited from time to time. “Oh, and a picture so I know what he looks like.” The girl nodded shyly and I looked her up and down, memorizing her style and mannerisms quickly so that I’d know exactly what I’d be working on for the next few days.
She wore khaki pants with brown tennis shoes and a light pink three-quarter sleeved shirt. Her long brown hair was curly and pinned back away from her face so that the curls could cascade down her back. Basically, she looked like she stayed home all day and baked brownies for fun, and then went out on Saturday night and gave them to the homeless. I wasn’t quite sure how I was supposed to seduce someone and be sweet at the same time, but that was the challenge I’d have to face.
“What’s your name?” I asked, realizing that through my little schpeel I’d never gotten any information about her. I was just so used to summing a person up based on their style.
“I’m Karen,” she answered quietly. Her voice seemed so drained of confidence that I indulged in a Romeo and Juliet type of fantasy for a moment, thinking that she really loved her boyfriend but they had to break up because their families hated each other. Of course, that whole scenario was ridiculous, but it worked just for that moment.
“All right, Karen. If you’ll just email me that information, I’ll get started on your job right away.” She nodded as she silently read the address I had given her.
“I’ll get the money to you tomorrow. I don’t have it on me right now… if that’s all right?” Normally I never took a job without getting the money first, but Karen didn’t really strike me as the type to have me work for her and then make off without paying me, so I agreed and said my good-byes.
The parking lot was almost completely empty by the time I made it out there. Students, who generally moved about as fast as a skateboard through a room of gravel, managed to get themselves going at a pretty decent pace when it meant they’d be leaving school. I walked to my car with my eyes trained on the ground, hoping that if I didn’t see David while walking out to my car, he wouldn’t see me. It was perfectly possible that he had already gone home, and I held onto that possibility with all my might.
Of course, my hoping did nothing. I looked up to find a sandy blond lounging against my silver car with an intent look on his face. I rolled my eyes at his serious expression and approached the car. He was leaning against the back door, leaving my door free, so I took full advantage of this and went straight for the keyhole. I plunged the key in, hoping that I could simply outmaneuver him and get into the car before he could say anything. He grabbed my hand just as I turned the key, however, and stopped me from getting any further.
“Do you agree to my terms?” he asked suddenly, as if picking up a conversation we’d ended only a few seconds earlier.
“What terms?” I grumbled. He sighed, obviously exasperated by my short-term memory.
“I want you to stop this little ‘business’ of yours, and I want to help you.”
“Well, those aren’t really terms, David. Terms would be more like ‘you stop your business and I’ll give you a million dollars.’ Now those are terms I’d agree to.” He looked at me with his brows drawn together in deep concern, and I glared back. “Oh, stop being so dramatic! It’s not such a big deal, all right! I’m not emotionally scarred, I’m not a bad person, and there’s nothing wrong with how I make money. You’re the one who needs help. What kind of person dedicates a year of his life to following some girl around? Now that’s creepy.”
“Amelia, I don’t know why you won’t just admit that this has something to do with your own insecurities and not so much to do with making money.” His tone aggravated me. It said, “I know what I’m talking about and you don’t.” It was superior and I’d had enough of it.
“Of course it has to do with money. I don’t do this for fun, David. I just need money for college. Why is that so hard for you to believe?” It didn’t make sense that he couldn’t see the simple answer when it was right in front of him. It was pretty obvious that I did this for money, but his constant insistence that this was something else just baffled me. And the fact that he had decided to make it any of his business was complete nonsense.
“You could make more money at an after-school job than you are with this. Plus, from what I’ve noticed, you probably waste most of the money you make on hair products and new clothes for your clients.” The obviousness of this statement did strike me for a moment. But only for a moment. I clicked my teeth together and looked up to the sky as if asking for assistance from some greater source to help me deal with this menace.
Perhaps I could make more at an after-school job, but if I did that, I wouldn’t have an excuse to constantly change myself. I’d be a normal person set to the normal rules everyone else had to live by. I’d be expected to make friends and uphold relationships. I’d be expected to participate in the normal high school rituals like prom. And worst of all, I’d be expected to fit in with the rest of the crowd. I wouldn’t fit in by choice, like I did when I pretended to be other people for my clients, but I would fit in because I’d be just like everyone else.
Though the money was definitely a perk, I couldn’t deny that I enjoyed living by a different set of rules than my peers. It made me feel different and special to be able to stand back and criticize high school life without actually having to participate in it. I actually worried that if I had to start being a normal high school student I’d become so used to the mediocrity that I wouldn’t even notice how normal I’d become. I’d just keep sinking into the crowd until I was as faceless as everyone else. I’d be given a brand like “jock,” or “drama geek,” or “nerd,” and that would be that. No one would look past my label, or even have a desire to. They’d sum me up by what I wore or who I hung out with… just like I did with them.
The sad reality of this existence must have manifested itself on my face because David looked instantly concerned.
“Are you all right?” he asked, worry lining his features. I nodded silently and composed myself.
“I need to get home. My mom and I are going out to dinner,” I lied. He nodded in understanding, still staring at me with acute concern, but he let me pass. Once in the car I drove to the store to get brown hair dye, and then home to my empty house. Once I got there I pulled some leftover chicken from the fridge. My mom hadn’t bothered to leave a note this time, but I knew she wouldn’t be home, so I finished my food, dyed my hair, and went to bed.
Chapter Thirteen
I got up early the next morning to check my e-mail. Sure enough in my inbox there was one new message from Karen. I typed her information onto a fact sheet and printed it out. The sheet read:
