Free You Are Not Here by Samantha Schutz

any form.
    “It could be the change
    you’re looking for,” he says.
    That snaps me to attention.
    For the first time since I came in,
    I really look at him.
    He’s tall and thin,
    and maybe a little older than me.
    He’s got light hair and brown eyes,
    and a glob of pizza sauce on his shirt.
    “A change?” I ask.
    “Yeah,” he says.
    “Working a few days a week,
    making some extra money,
    and, of course, all the pizza you can eat.”
    “A change?” I ask again.
    But this time
    I am saying it to myself
    and not to him.

The next morning,
    I show my mom the job application.
    “A pizza place?” she asks skeptically.
    “I’m glad you decided to get a job,
    but wouldn’t you rather work at a clothing store?
    What about the boutique Joy’s working at?
    Or babysitting like Marissa?”
    “No. I have this feeling
    that working at Renzo’s is gonna be good.”
    “A feeling?
    Well, if this is what you want…
    then I think it’s great.”
    I go up to my room
    and fill out the application.
    The top half is easy.
    I write in my name,
    address, birthday,
    social security number,
    and school info.
    The bottom half is harder:
    work experience and skills.
    I don’t really have either.
    I’ve babysat,
    but I don’t think that counts.
    So under skills I just write:
    I’m really good at math.
    I’m a little nervous.
    I’ve never done anything
    like this before.
    In fact, I haven’t done anything
    in a long time.

On the way to Renzo’s,
    I pass the cemetery.
    I don’t stop to see Brian,
    but do nod in his direction.
    I’ll be back later.

Pizza Boy is behind the counter again.
    “You’re back,” he says.
    “Yeah. I filled out the application.”
    He takes it from me and looks it over.
    “Annaleah. Nice name.
    Looks like you’re good at math, Annaleah.”
    It’s a little weird
    how he keeps repeating my name.
    He says,
    “Let me pass this to my boss.”
    Pizza Boy comes out from behind the counter
    and heads for the kitchen.
    He comes back with an older man and says,
    “Frank, this is my friend Annaleah.
    I think she’d be great
    at working the back tables.”
    Friend? I only met him yesterday.
    I don’t even know his name.
    Frank looks me and my application over.
    “Ever waitressed before?” he asks.
    I attempt a joke,
    “No, but I clear the table at home.”
    “See, Frank. She’s funny.
    Customers will like her,” says Pizza Boy.
    “Do you think you can carry the trays?”
    Frank asks, pointing to a tray
    that’s loaded with dirty plates and cups.
    “Definitely,” I say,
    even though I’m not so sure.
    “Okay, then,” Frank says.
    “Can you do a mix
    of afternoon and evening shifts
    until school starts?
    Then maybe some weekends
    after September?”
    “Yes. Thank you,” I answer,
    wondering what Brian’s gotten me into.
    “All right, then.
    You start in two days.
    Come in at four.
    Wear black pants and a white polo shirt.
    See you then.”
    He shakes my hand
    and then goes back to the kitchen.
    But Pizza Boy is still standing there.
    “Thanks for doing that,” I say.
    “Telling him you know me, I mean.”
    “No problem.”
    “I guess now would be a good time
    for you to tell me your name…
    since we’re friends and all.”
    “It’s Ethan.”
    “Well, Ethan.
    See you in two days.”

“So I went to Renzo’s,”
    I tell Brian later that afternoon.
    “At first, I wasn’t sure
    why you sent me there.
    But then that guy asked me
    if I was there about the job
    and it all clicked.
    But visiting you,
    talking to you,
    has kept you close.
    Feeling sad
    has kept me busy—
    it’s been my job.
    And if I come here less,
    what will I have?
    But I am going to try,
    because this
    is what you want.”

Ethan is behind the counter
    when I get to Renzo’s
    for my first day of work.
    “Hey,” I say.
    Ethan tosses me an order pad
    and an apron
    to tie around my waist.
    “Frank’s not here yet.
    So I’m going to show you around.
    This is Lou,” he says.
    He’s pointing to a chubby