Hush by Anne Frasier

was waiting to pay.
    She pushed it back at him. "I don't want it,"
she said, her chin raised in indignation. There was no way she
could have heard or seen what Jarod had done with the original
bagel, but she couldn't have missed his tantrum. "I have no desire
to eat in such a hostile environment. What's your manager's name? I
want to report this." She had a pen out, and now Ethan could see
she'd already noted his badge and written his name on a napkin.
    He stared at her and wondered if he should
have kept his mouth shut about the spit bagel.
     
    Two hours later, Ethan was putting away the
last of the cream cheese when he heard a commotion at the door. Why
the hell did people come at closing time? He looked up to see a
bunch of his friends piling in, laughing and shoving one another
all the way to the order area. Ryan Harrison, a neighbor, hockey
teammate, and longtime friend, sprawled partway over the
counter.
    "You have to buy something," Ethan said. "The
manager's in the back office."
    The last time his friends had shown up, the
manager had kicked them out because they'd overtaken and dirtied
two tables, helped themselves to self-serve ice water, straws, and
napkins, and left a soggy mess for Ethan to clean up while not
purchasing a single item.
    "Give me a pizza bagel and medium soda," Ryan
said while Heather Green tugged at his arm, pleading with him to
buy her a bagel too. He rolled his eyes and ordered a second one.
Heather smiled broadly and winked at Ethan. Heather was always
laughing and happy. Even though she lived down the street from him
and he'd known her forever, Ethan felt a little clumsy around her
because he'd heard she was sexually active while he was still a
virgin.
    "Did you hear about the record show at Navy
Pier?" she asked.
    "No," Ethan said. She was also one of the
only girls—or guys, for that matter—who knew anything about music.
Not a lot, but more than his buddies.
    "Next month. Tickets are ten bucks for three
days."
    "You going?" he asked.
    "Can't. Family vacation. We're going camping
in Colorado."
    "Cool." He gave them their bagels and
self-serve drink cup, then totaled their order. "What about you?"
he asked Ryan.
    "The record show? I don't know." He shrugged.
"Maybe. Will your dad let you go?"
    "If he doesn't, I'll sneak out." There was no
way he would allow his dad to keep him from going to something so
important.
    "You're so intense at those things," Ryan
said. "It's kind of a drag."
    "Thanks." Nobody got it. Nobody got Ethan's
infatuation with music. Not the radio crap, but music. Good
music.
    He hung out in a few select chat rooms—it was
great "talking" to people who loved and revered the same things he
did—but why didn't he actually know anybody like that?
    How could you respect somebody who didn't
understand good music? What if he met a girl and fell in love . . .
but she listened to crap? Could he marry her? Could he spend the
rest of his life with her?
    "Right now we're going to an all-ages show at
the Quest," one of his other buddies, Brent, said. "Wanna
come?"
    "Who's playing?"
    "I don't know. We just thought it would be
something to do. We're going to try to hook up with Pasqual or
Donnie Issak to get us some vodka. We have enough money for three
fifths."
    "I can't."
    "Come on, man. Don't you get off work pretty
soon? We stopped to get you."
    "Yeah, but my dad's picking me up."
    Brent laughed. "Oh, yeah, that's right You're
grounded. I forgot. Bummer."
    "If it's such a bummer, why are you
laughing?"
    "I was just thinking about how drunk you were
the other night. You were funny as hell. I almost wet my pants. I
didn't know you could be so fucking funny."
    Ethan had a fuzzy memory of climbing on top
of somebody's car. He'd removed his pants and tied the legs around
his neck like a cape and was shouting things like, "I'm the king of
the world!" Thinking about it made his face hot. The cape thing was
bad enough; he hoped he hadn't done anything more embarrassing