Free Going Under by S. Walden

every time I saw her mother. Plus, I knew
Gretchen. She would start a crusade, much like I was doing, except
mine was a crusade of one. She’d want the entire world involved,
and I wasn’t prepared to go there. I wanted to be quiet and wise
about it. She’d blow the whole thing with her loud mouth.
    “You’ve got someone at Table 2,” Amanda
said.
    I peered over to my table and instinctively
balled my hands into fists. Amanda saw.
    “You want me to take him?” she asked.
    I shook my head. “You can have the rest, but
I’ve got to take this one. He didn’t come here to eat,” and she
understood completely.
    I walked over to Finn and stood silent,
waiting. He looked up at me and smiled.
    “You look cute in your uniform,” he
said.
    I didn’t reply.
    “Jesus, Brooke,” he said. “What do you want
me to say?”
    “Why are you here?” I asked.
    “I wanted to see you. I didn’t get a chance
to talk to you at the funeral.”
    “You think it would have been wise to talk
to me at the funeral?” I asked.
    Finn shook his head. “No, I don’t. But you
just disappeared. It took me forever to find out you hadn’t moved
to California. Why didn’t you tell me?”
    I shook my head in disbelief. “I don’t have
to tell you about my life anymore, Finn. We’re over.”
    “Look, us being together had nothing to do
with Beth’s suicide,” he snapped.
    “Shut your mouth about it,” I hissed.
    “You love me, Brooke, but you feel guilty,”
Finn said.
    I hung my head. There was a time I thought I
could love Finn. We never said it, and he made me angry when he
brought it up to Beth the afternoon she caught us. But I knew I
could never love him now. There was too much hurt. Too much guilt,
and I couldn’t do that to myself anymore.
    I looked at him, taking in his soft blond
hair and brown eyes. He was cute, would always be cute. He’d just
have to go be cute for some other girl.
    “I can’t take your order, Finn,” I said
finally.
    “I don’t want food. I want you,” he said
softly.
    “Please don’t say things like that,” I
pleaded.
    “Come home with me, Brooke. We’ll just talk.
That’s all we’ll do.”
    I felt the pull for a fraction of a second,
my body leaning into him remembering his mouth, his hands, all the
ways he touched me just right. But that’s all it ever was, just
touching. It was an instant revelation. No love. Just touching, and
it was easy to back away.
    “No, Finn.”
    He looked at me with sad eyes. “You break my
heart, Brooke.”
    I shrugged and walked to the kitchen,
passing by Amanda.
    “He’s yours,” I said, but Finn had already
left the table.
    I don’t know why I dragged my feet about
going home. I hung around the dirty dishes instead, watching
Gregory load the machine with glasses and plates. Gregory was a
student at Wake Technical Community College with ambitions to be a
rock star. He played the drums, and from what I heard, he sucked at
it. He was the dishwasher who yelled at me my first night, and
unlike Terry, he never apologized. I thought he was a tool, and
then I realized a tool was exactly the kind of guy I needed to talk
to. I could trust him with the information because he wouldn’t
care.
    “What do you want?” Gregory asked, not
looking at me. He continued shoving plates in the washer.
    “I gotta question for you,” I replied.
    “Well, I may or may not have an answer,” he
said.
    I gave him an even look. Okay, I had a few
questions for him.
    “Why do you dislike me?” I asked.
    He chuckled. “Why are girls so
self-absorbed? I don’t dislike you. I don’t think anything about
you at all.” He looked at me, his facial expression asking, “What
else?”
    I blinked, then smirked. “Were the popular
girls mean to you in high school?” I should have kept that smartass
question to myself as I watched Gregory load a handful of knives
into the dishwasher.
    He paused and cocked his head, considering
me. Then his mouth turned up into a smirk that