Free Butterface by Gwen Hayes Page B

won lotteries. Lucky people catch all green lights on their way through town. Lucky people don’t have facial deformities—less distinct or otherwise.
     
    Yes. She escaped the kidney and heart problems that plague some patients with the birth defect. And yes, the surgeons did fix her jaw. Mostly. But looking at her face straight-on was usually an uncomfortable experience for most people. For instance, her father, who took off when she was two and was never heard from again .
     
    Beth did her best to proffer the right side of her profile whenever possible. She had to keep her hair in a braid at work, but she pulled it to the side instead of behind. She often held her neck at an angle, tilting her cheek towards her shoulder. Anything to soften the effect of asymmetry. She hated starting senior year in a new place with a whole new cast of characters to affront with her abnormality.
     
    “Earth to Beth.”
     
    She blinked several times until she realized Lucky was standing at the counter. “Sorry for the spaceout . Is something wrong with your table?”
     
    He shook his head. “No, you just looked weird.”
     
    Her heart stopped and, for the first time since she’d met him, her stomach soured. Lucky was one of the few people she’d ever met who didn’t squint when he looked at her like he was trying to imagine what she should look like instead of how she did.
     
    “I always look weird. I was just standing here wishing I was a lesbian is all.”
     
    His expression went blank, like he lost the thread of where he thought the conversation was going and couldn’t figure out how to get back there. “I’ve known you for six weeks now, and half the time I don’t understand what you are talking about.” He took a seat at the counter, which was unusual. “When I came in, you were lost in thought. You looked like somebody kicked a puppy or something. I was concerned. Sue me. ”
     
    Quick to cover, she said, “Be still my heart, he cares.” Beth poured him a glass of water and checked her watch. The dinner crowd was finally gone. And it was a Tuesday. Tuesdays were quiet most of the time. “How did your test go, soccer god?”
     
    He pretended to look at a menu. It’s not like they didn’t both know what he was going to order. “Well, I can almost say with certainty that I didn’t fail.”
     
    She rolled her eyes. “So another ‘A’ then?”
     
    He laughed. “Probably. I’m just lucky I guess.”
     
    Lucky. There was that word again. Except Lucky O’Leary worked harder than most people she’d met. The guy studied all the time. And was always working out or running. He was one of the few beautiful people she didn’t begrudge. How could she? If anyone deserved to have it all, it was someone like him.
     
    “How is your senior year so far?” he asked
     
    “Well, I haven’t killed anyone yet.”
     
    The bell above the door rang, and her night took a bad turn. Two really good looking college guys sauntered in like they owned the world. And they probably did.
     
    “O’Leary,” said one the one with floppy hair.
     
    “Hey guys, what’s up?” Lucky stood and they all did some complicated non-hug thing. Testosterone was strange. And also very enticing. God. College guys were hot.
     
    Lucky grabbed some menus and the water pitcher off the counter and pointed his friends to a table like the restaurant was his kitchen at home. “Sit guys.” Then he grabbed her order pad right out of her hand and told her to take a break. He’d give the order to Marty, the cook, when they were ready to eat.
     
    What a strange guy. It was weird enough that he hung out there so much. But now he was going to pseudo-work there too?
     
    Whatever. Her feet hurt and she needed to study. If he wanted to play restaurant, he was welcome to it.
     
     
     
    * * *
     
     
     
    His friends were jerks.
     
    He really didn’t want to subject Beth to their douchiness , so Lucky tried to run interference. At least they