Julia Walton - Just Our Luck

I didnt lie. Not really.

I just didnt provide all the details.

Yia Yia would have said thats lying too because you can feel it in your stomach when youre holding something back.

Not holding back was the problem, though, because I lunged at him first. I just didnt tell anybody that.

And I should have known better. It was rule number one of the two rules that Yia Yia drilled into my head before she died.

Rule Number 1: Bad luck follows lies, agapi mou.

Rule Number 2: Leave the Paros family alone.

Yes, he hit me. But thats not the full story, and it would be lying to say that it wasnt just a little bit my fault.

The thing with anxiety is that people think it makes you run from a fight, but thats not always true. At least not for me.

Sometimes it makes you defensive.

What happens for me is that when that hot, panicky feeling rises up, I just need to get it out of my system, and sometimes the easiest way to do that is to be a jerk. Lash out as quickly as possible to get that instant relief of setting the bad thing free. Just as long as it leaves me aloneas long as its not gnawing on the hardware in my brainIm cool.

Anyway, its actually the schools fault this happened. Service hours are required, and Ive always signed up for the jobs that are mostly solitary, like reshelving library books. But this time they assigned us jobs, and someone thought it would be a good idea for me to sell candy at the Snack Shack.

It was the first day back from winter break, so of course the place was swarming with people holding their sweaty money from the holidays, trying to elbow their way to the cash register. And I was behind the counter, responsible for giving them the sugar to keep this orgy of energy going. Jesus Christ. What had I done to deserve this?

I kept telling myself it was only for today, but as more people filled the room, I started to hear a loud buzzing in my ears.

All the Sour Patch Kids went first. Then the fresh cookies. Then the Starbursts.

One guy, Jordan Swansea, gave me forty dollars for three big containers of Red Vines and told me to keep the change as he walked out and distributed them in handfuls to the rest of his impossibly tall group of jock friends.

Overpaying for Red Vines in the Snack Shack just so you can drop money on the counter in front of everyone and walk away is a classic symbol of douchebaggery. Thats probably unfair, but he has that kind of vibe. Maybe its not such a big deal for rich people. I wouldnt know. My high school sits in the middle of a lot of wealthy neighborhoods, so even though my family has always been solidly middle-class, that almost translates to poor here.

Thats what I was thinking when Drake Gibbons, the second douchebag of the day, got to the front of the line. As I was counting back change, he interrupted me. I should probably note that he does that a lot. Interrupts, I mean. Hes been in my class since his family moved here in third grade, and he has always been annoying. He doesnt really have a filter, which means he was usually responsible for the truest (and meanest) nicknames doled out in elementary school.

I was doing fine trying to ignore the noise and the people, but instead of waiting for me to finish, Drake grabbed a Clif Bar, dropped a wrinkled twenty into the cash box, and said, Nineteen, dude.

I would have pegged him for a Slim Jim kinda guy.

Just a sec. I was still helping this girl who was trying to pick out all the green apple Jolly Ranchers from the plastic box in front of her, but Drake didnt want to wait for his change.

Here, dude, let me help you with that. He tried to reach into my cash box, but I pulled it back.

Just a sec. Im not done with that.

Jolly Rancher Girl, who also went by Cassie and was in my algebra class, was taking her sweet-ass time pulling out her candy, and I was trying to move her along while Drake kept putting his hand over the counter to grab his change. It wasnt clicking for him that I was still helping someone else. Like he heard me but didnt hear me. If that makes any sense.

Dude, Ill help you. Its nineteen bucks. He was still leaning over the counter. Still in my space. Close enough for me to smell the protein shake on his breath. Cassie glared at him, but he ignored her too.

Just wait, I said, gritting my teeth. I put up my hand. The noise in the room was giving me a stomachache, and I had to start over counting back change for the second time.

Then Drake stage-whispered, Uh-oh, better not make Fat Leo mad.

I glared at him. Fat Leo was the best nickname he could give me as a kid. Since I subsisted on a diet of moussaka and souvlaki and my pudgy belly stretched most of my clothes, Fat Leo was a suitable choice, I guess, but completely without vision.

He swiped for the cash box, and Cassie once again tried to get me to finish her transaction. Thats when the crowd turned ugly.

Some of us are HANGRY. Just give me my Funyuns, dude! said a guy at the back.

And breath mints, said his girlfriend.

A bunch of people laughed, but a few other people started sounding really annoyed about the holdup.