How to Heal a Broken Heart (4 page)

Of course, if we’re being realistic, Chelsea didn’t owe me anything. I had never done one kind thing for her in her life, and no one was forcing her to help me. She was doing it on her own, which should have told me she wanted to do it, she wanted to help me.

But the thing about getting over someone is that sometimes it’s really hard to let yourself trust again. Sometimes it’s really hard to allow yourself to believe there are people out there who will treat you right, who won’t hurt you, who really do want you around. Sometimes it literally has to be staring you right in the face before you see it, and even then, if you aren’t careful, you could miss it.

My mom is very proud of me for getting a job. She’s, like, totally shocked at my responsibility, but somehow I feel like if she knew the real reason I was really working this summer was to pay for summer school she wouldn’t be to happy with me.

The day of my first shift at Lucky Strike I start getting ready way too early. And when I say way too early I mean like three hours before my shift. I can’t help it. Chelsea made me even more nervous then I already was. After the mall last week we exchanged numbers and she called me last night to make sure I was ready for work. I assured her that yes I was, but then she told me to make sure my make up was done, and my hair was straight and I was wearing a new outfit because the better I looked the better tips I would get.

Which made me almost have a panic attack because I didn’t really think a new outfit and a little make up was going to somehow transfer me into a model. But now, as I stand in front of the mirror staring at myself I have to admit I don’t look half bad. I mean, not model status, but definitely cute.

My brown hair is completely straight thanks to my straighter and my face is nice and dark since I put on this bronzer Chelsea gave me that somehow matched my skin perfectly. I’m wearing a light silver eye shadow with mascara and just a touch of pink gloss on my lips. It’s not that much, but for me it’s a completely different world. I can’t remember the last time I wore make up.

For my outfit I picked my new white jean skirt and a black sparkle tank top, both of which I got at the mall with Chelsea on our shopping trip. Chelsea says we can wear whatever we want as long as we look “cute.” I’m not sure if this is true since when I went in there everyone was wearing jeans and Lucky Strike t-shirts, but whatever. I mean, she is the one who got me the job and so she must know what she’s talking about, right?

I’m trying my best to sneak out the door for work without being seen when Megan stops me.

“WHERE YOU GOING LOOKING LIKE THAT?” she screams from behind me.

I jump and drop my purse, spilling a bunch of stuff on the floor in the process.

“Jeez, Megan.” I scowl at her.

She runs down the hall after me and bends down to help me pick my things up.

“Where are you off to so quickly?”

I sigh. “Work, Megan, and it’s very important I’m not late so I don’t get fired.”

“THAT’S what you wear to work?” she asks, looking me up and down. “Its kind of…flashy for a bowling alley, isn’t it?”

Great. Now I’m getting fashion advice from my eight-year-old sister.

“No, it’s not, actually,” I tell her, picking up the last of my things off the floor and shoving them into my purse. “Now I have to go.”

I’m at the end of the hall when she calls out my name. I grind my teeth together, force a smile and turn around “Yes?”

“You look really pretty.”

And the crazy thing is that for a second I actually believe her.

As soon as I walk into the bowling alley I know I’m going to be in over my head.

It’s not the middle of the day anymore. Pretty much every lane in the place is filled already and it’s only six o’clock. Not to mention there’s a huge line at the counter waiting to check in. The arcade is packed with teenagers and there’s kids running and screaming every which way. I feel extremely overwhelmed and nervous and I’m just weighing the pros and cons of staying or turning around when Chelsea grabs me by the hand and pulls me behind the counter.

“Don’t get overwhelmed. It looks worse than it is,” she tells me.

“Hey!” some kid screams at us from across the counter. “I’ve been waiting on my nachos for like twenty minutes now!”

“They’ll be right out!” Chelsea tells him, flashing a smile. The boy shakes his head and heads back to his lane.

“No matter how testy they get, keep smiling,” Chelsea orders me. “Now take my lead, and whatever you do, don’t give your number to anyone.”

I’m going to tell her she has nothing to worry about, but I don’t really have time because she doesn’t give me any. It turns out Chelsea is the fastest person in the world.

She is never doing just one thing. If she isn’t taking orders and delivering food to lanes, she’s behind the counter giving out shoes and assigning lanes, or she’s cashing in tickets for kids in the arcade, or unjamming the vending machine. You name it, Chelsea does it.

And when she isn’t doing something, she’s ordering me to do something. “Bring this to lane twelve,” she tells me, handing me a huge tray of food. “Assign those kids with their dad to lane eight, you remember how to ring them in, right?” she tells me, pointing to the front of the bowling alley.

And that’s how it is all night long. I don’t get a break and I’m way too busy to even think about asking for one.

It isn’t until Chelsea and I are sitting at an empty table toward the back of the bowling alley four hours later that I realize just how tired I really am.

“So?” Chelsea asks me. “What do you think?”

“I think,” I tell her, rubbing my sore feet under the table, “that this place is crazy.”

She laughs. “It definitely is, but honestly being thrown into the fire is usually the best way to learn.”

“Um, it is?”

She nods. “Totally. I mean, think about it. Is there anything you don’t know how to do after tonight?”

I think about it for a second and realize she’s right. Not taking your time with each little thing, but just having to figure it out as quickly as possible makes things stick in my mind much longer. I mean, I was literally everywhere tonight. Sure, it wasn’t exactly a normal training day but in a way this was way more helpful.

“Wow,” I tell her. “You’re right.”

She smiles with satisfaction. “I usually am. Plus, check this out.” She reaches into her apron pocket and pulls out a wad of bills. “This is yours.”

“It is?” I ask her.

She nods. “It’s half of the tips I made tonight. You did just as much as me.”

I hesitate and she rolls her eyes and thrusts the money into my hands. “Take it,”

she tells me. “It’s sixty dollars. Keep that up and you’ll have paid for summer school in no time.”

I smile to myself because she’s right. Not only that, but at this rate I’ll be able to start to put back my savings I spent too.

“You wanna bowl?” she asks me.

“Bowl?” I ask her. “No way.”

She laughs. “Oh, come on. They won’t charge us.”

She takes a key out of her pocket and sticks it into the top of the lane we’re sitting at and the screen pops up for us to type our names in. “Just a few balls?” she asks me.

“Well,” I say. “Maybe a few.”

She laughs and types our names onto the screen.

Me and my dad used to bring Megan bowling all the time. She would have to use the bumpers, but it was still really fun. Of course when Rich came into the picture I stopped going with them. Rich. Thinking about him brings a pain to my heart. And although working and running non-stop was surely a distraction, the truth is that I’m still sad, I still miss him. And suddenly my heart starts to beat really fast in my chest because I realize I haven’t checked my phone in hours and maybe, just maybe, he called. But when I dig into my pocket to check my phone the only texts are from my mom. I feel sadness and dread creep through my bones all over again.

“Hey!” Chelsea’s voice snaps me out of my thoughts. “Come on!”

I look up and realize she’s already bowled a few balls and I sigh, shoving my phone back into my pocket.

“Okay, okay,” I say, grabbing a ball and pausing a second before I roll it down the lane. I take a deep breath, get my footing right, and release the ball down the lane. Strike.

“And ladies and gentleman, she’s still got it,” I announce, throwing my hands up in the air.

“Twenty bucks says you cant do that again.” The voice belongs to a male and I swing around to find Andrew’s blue eyes staring back at me.

Evan grins from beside him. “Twenty? Don’t be cheap. Thirty says she can.”

Andrew rolls his eyes. “I wasn’t betting you. I was betting Stephanie.”

Evan starts to get cranky. “You never let me bet!”

Andrew shrugs. “That’s because you don’t have a very good track record when it comes to betting on things.”

Evan face starts to turn red and I see his hands clench into fists by his side. “One time! And you said that horse looked like a winner too!”

“No, what I said was we should do a little more research before –”

“WE SAID WE’D NEVER SPEAK OF IT AGAIN!” Evan screams and I see the woman on the lane next to us shoot us a dirty look.

I grab a bowling ball and look quickly to make sure the lane has reset before I close my eyes, concentrate, and release again. Strike.

So here’s the thing. My dad’s a really good bowler. Like, really good. He even had a perfect game once -- he has a plaque for it and everything. Ever since I was a little kid he would take me bowling and teach me little tricks and techniques. I’m still nowhere near as good as he is, but I can usually get a decent amount of strikes. When Megan was old enough we started to take her every week with us.

It was never like my dad wanted us to be really serious about it -- it was just something we could all do together. But when Rich came along, family bowling night disappeared from my list of priorities.

I swing my body around to see the reaction behind me.

“Okay. So Stephanie’s on my team,” Evan announces, forgetting his tantrum for the moment. “I’ll get you shoes!” He starts to run off.

Andrew’s staring at me and for a second I just stare back, but Chelsea’s laugh tears me away from his eyes.

“Now that,” se says, “was impressive.”

I shrug a little uncomfortably. “Lucky tonight, I guess.”

“Right.” Chelsea pulls the clip out of her hair and lets it flow down her back.

“You totally have to ditch Evan and be on our team. They beat us every week.”

I follow Chelsea’s eyes down to a lane on the other side of the bowling ally. I notice Evan’s brother, Tom. I think he just graduated this year. Next to him are Rachel and Mary White. I can feel Mary’s eyes on me and suddenly I feel really uncomfortable.

Things you should know about Mary White:

1) She’s a twin. (See previously mentioned Rachel.) 2) She looks like something out of a fashion magazine. Long legs, blonde hair, blue eyes, flawless skin. Seriously she’s beautiful, and she knows it. (I know this because one time I heard her say, “Rachel you’re so pretty, so I guess that means I’m so pretty right?” Then she started laughing like she was soooo funny. Real witty, that Mary.)

3) She has an off again/ on again relationship with Andrew, and since she’s here bowling with him, I would assume they are on again at the moment.

4) She does not like me. I know this because one time in gym class when we were picking teams for softball she said, very loudly, “Don’t pick Stephanie, I don’t like her.” And that was that.

So as you can imagine, I’m less than thrilled about the possibility of spending the night hanging out with her. And judging by the nasty look she’s shooting my way, I’m guessing the feeling is mutual. Well, she has nothing to worry about. She doesn’t have to remind me this is her world, not mine -- I know that all to well.

I look to where Evan is standing up at the front of the bowling alley then back to Andrew and Chelsea. “I actually can’t tonight. I have someplace to go.”

“Where are you going?” Andrew asks.

“Where?”

“Yes,” he says more slowly, almost smug. “Where are you going?”

Shit. Why is he so nosy all of a sudden anyway? I mean what does it matter to him where I’m going or if I don’t feel like going stupid bowling with him and his stupid girlfriend?

“Well,” I say, already starting to walk away, “I don’t really have time to get into it, so okay, I’ll text you later Chelsea, bye.” And then I run away. Literally, I run across the bowling alley and into the back room to punch out.

It’s not until I’m safely behind the counter and near the time clock that I let myself relax a little. Jeez. What is Andrew’s problem? First he calls me out on my bowling, then he makes it out like I don’t have anywhere to be. I mean, I could have something really important that I’m supposed to be doing. Who is he to say?

I’m just about to swipe my time card into the little gray machine when I glance down and see it. The pile of bowling shoes pilled in a huge mess in the corner of the floor behind the counter, and I almost look away, I almost get the hell out of there and fast. But something stops me, and I think it’s the vision of Chuck coming in tomorrow morning and having to spend his morning sorting through all these shoes again, or maybe its that I’m honestly in no hurry to get home and have to pretend to be so happy about my new job to my family.

Whatever the reason, I find myself glancing down the bowling alley, and once I see that Chelsea, Andrew, and Evan are already bowling happily and paying no attention to me, I curl up Indian style on the ground and start to sort through the shoes.

They really are a mess. Size sevens with size tens. Size elevens with size fourteens. Men’s and women’s shoes all mixed up. Some kids, some adults. They really should have a better system for sorting them.

I’m just finishing up and thinking that it didn’t really take me as long as I thought it would when Andrew’s voice takes me by surprise for the second time that night.

“Well, well,” he says from the other side of the counter, looking down at me.

“What do we have here?”