Love in the Time of Cynicism by Jani Berghuis

is Friday night, for your sake.”
    I turn to him, twirl my bluish ponytail and bat my eyelashes. “Are you, like, asking me on a date?”
    “Only if you’re saying yes.”
    My eyes flit over him and I can tell he’s completely serious. “I’ll go on a date with you, to watch The Breakfast Club and be introduced to the world of having favorites if, and only if, you let me read one of your poems. Or better yet,” I giggle – a proper giggle as if I’ve transported into a three year old girl with two fistfuls of cake – and start walking backwards to gauge his reaction, “come to our bi-weekly poetry slam at Ebony’s Friday and read one for the whole crowd.”
    “That sounds like a clever ploy to get more business.”
    I mock-bow. “You’ve successfully unraveled the plan of the part-time barista. You in?”
    We’ve reached the flagpole and he replies, “Anything to make me a part of your world.”
    “This isn’t The Little Mermaid , Ariel.” I smirk, turn around toward the main entrance. “See you then?”
    “Hopefully sooner.”
    As I’m walking away from Rhett, Sky and her current boyfriend (Chad? Brad?) dash up to meet me.
    “Chaz, can you go get my books for me and meet me in first period?” Chaz ? Seriously? Sky gives him the flirtatious smile I’ve seen her give to many boyfriends before she drops them. It’s her MO; use the boy for whatever she needs, then drop him on his ass when he least expects is. Chaz hikes off to find her locker, leaving the two of us alone.
    Without permission, Sky yanks my bag off my back and rifles through it. This is my only friend. I think that says something about me.
    “What are you looking for?” I sigh, “It’s my backpack, I’ll help you find it.”
    “Got it already.” Sky’s holding my wallet. She rifles through it, takes out five dollars, and returns the wallet back to its location inside my bag.
    “You’re taking my money?” It’s less a question than a statement. This is a regular occurrence, considering I have a job and she has a shopping problem. “What do you need it for?”
    “Drugs and condoms; what do you think?” She’s going to buy lunch with it, as usual. Though her mother has cared enough about her to pack her a lunch every single day since kindergarten, Sky still saps a few bucks from me to buy the school’s shit food. I come out on top in this arrangement because her mom’s home cooked meals go into my stomach before work.
    She pulls out her brown paper bag from her designer backpack and stuffs it into my aging one. Then she grins, waggles her plucked eyebrows and says, “I see you’re still talking with Doctor Love even after the Saturday night fiasco. Must be one helluva man to make such a woman out of you, slut.”
    “First: it wasn’t a fiasco ,” I reply as we go through the over-crowded halls of Lightfoot High, passing my ‘peers’ who’ve primped to their Monday best – no joke, there are girls in skirts and heels this early in the morning and guys in dress shirts – for their own sessions of lobotomizing conservative schooling. “Second: if you ever call him ‘Doctor Love’ again, I might punch you.”
    “Might?” She rolls her eyes, constantly unimpressed by my lack of violence. “I would’ve punched me for saying it the first time. How much time have you two lovebirds been spending together anyway?”
    “We had breakfast this morning but other-”
    “You woke up an extra hour earlier for this boy?” She’s agog. She’s aghast. “Is Cordelia in love at last?”
    “We haven’t even gone on a date yet.”
    We arrive outside my first period and she smiles with pride in her eyes as Chaz lumbers up behind her and tosses a meaty arm around her shoulder. “I strongly suspect that’s about to change, you dirty whore. I am so proud of you for putting yourself out there, kiddo. Thanks for the cash.”
    And then I sit down in my front corner seat and wait for the bell to ring.
     
    The day dredges past