A note fell at her feet when Ashlynne stopped at her locker to put her backpack away before heading to the cafeteria. She picked it up and saw her name scrawled in a sloppy script across the front of the folded paper. She tucked it in her back pocket and headed to the cafeteria.
None of Ashlynne’s friends ate school lunch, either. At most they ate a granola bar during the break, and then hung out around the lockers until the next class started. Sometimes Ashlynne sat by herself in the gym, munching on chips and watching kids play basketball.
Not today, though. No chips because no money because Kaitlynn freaked out yesterday. She’d said Ashlynne could try something different next week, though. Just a few more school lunches to suffer through. Then hopefully something better would come.
Ashlynne made her way through the lunch line, asked the lunch lady for just a roll, no meat. She gave Ashlynne a questioning look, but put two rolls on her tray and told her to grab two milks. The lunch lady and Kaitlynn knew each other from way back, though Ashlynne was too tired at the moment to recall her name.
At the end of the line Ashlynne was delighted to see that there was some chocolate milk on display; it was normally reserved for Fridays. Cathy, another lunch lady whose kids were all in early elementary school, started to object when Ashlynne grabbed two cartons, but the other lady hollered out to Cathy, stopping her from saying anything else. Cathy took Ashlynne’s lunch ticket and smiled.
Ashlynne found a table in a corner where she could sit by herself. She opened a carton of chocolate milk and took a sip. Icy cold, it tasted alright, but it was made with 1% milk, and therefore lacked the creaminess of whole milk. Chocolate milk made from raw milk was even better. Ashlynne’s family used to get it fresh from her grandparents, but they’d stopped milking as they’d advanced in years.
Ashlynne tore a small bite from one of the rolls. They were delicious – soft, buttery, and still warm from the oven.
The noise of students racing out the door reminded Ashlynne of slamming lockers, and she recalled the note in her pocket. She took it out and studied the handwriting. It wasn’t from one of her friends – their penmanship was much better. She thought briefly it might’ve been from Ethan, since she’d been asleep when he left the house that morning, but it wasn’t his creative script. What really struck her was the spelling of her name. It was correct. Kaitlynn chose the less-conventional Ashlynn over Ashley and then added the extra e, to make Ashlynne feel more unique, she said. Really it just left Ashlynne frustrated. Only her parents, siblings, and close friends spelled it correctly. Teachers more often called her Ashley – as did most of Ashlynne’s extended family. Some even just shortened her name to Ash to avoid misspeaking. Ash. Something burned up. Discarded. Fits, snarked her inner voice. Ashlynne tried to silence her with more chocolate milk.
Ashlynne opened the note and her eyes went immediately to the bottom of the page, looking for a signature, but it was unsigned. Strange. Whoever left it in her locker must’ve assumed she’d recognize his (it must’ve been a boy – far too messy to be a girl) writing.
You still haven’t told me what was wrong was all that was written. She knew, then, immediately, who it was from. Ashlynne was folding the note and chewing another small bite from her roll when a tray hit the table, a chair scraped against the floor, and Colt sat next to her. “Got my note, huh?” Ashlynne looked up at Colt’s crooked grin and glimmering emerald eyes.
“Yeah,” she said after swallowing the roll. “How’d you know which locker was mine?”
“I’ve seen you between classes. Switching out your books.” Ashlynne nodded and took another bite. Completely possible – theirs was a small school in a farming community. Not like thousands of students swarmed the halls or anything. Still, Ashlynne always thought she kept a low profile. Didn’t think anyone paid much attention to her, let alone knew which locker was hers. Other than her friends, anyway.
“I’m really sorry about this morning,” Colt went on. “On the bus. The cockroach thing.” Ashlynne’s eyes went wide and watery and she finished her carton of chocolate milk. Colt took a bite from his rib-b-q sandwich. He had three on his plate. Lunch ladies liked him, too, it seemed.
“It’s alright,” Ashlynne said, looking around to see if anyone could overhear their conversation.
Colt swallowed his bite and leaned toward her. “We have them, too,” he said in a hushed voice. “It’s really not a big deal,” he shrugged his shoulders. “I was just giving you shit, trying to loosen you up after yesterday on the ride home.” He stopped talking and took another bite of his sandwich.
“Oh, okay,” was all Ashlynne could say as she finished the rest of her first roll and reached for the empty chocolate milk again. She forgot she’d finished it, and now fumbled to open the second carton. Half the time those tiny things opened up just fine and the other half she thought she needed a magic word.
“Here,” Colt’s hand rested on hers and he took the carton. As he pried it open, he glanced at Ashlynne’s tray. “Is that all you’re eating?” he handed the opened milk back to her.
“Yeah,” she shrugged. “I can’t stand the meat. It’s all rubbery and the sauce is pasty. I said I just wanted a roll, so they gave me two and told me to take an extra milk.”
“Aw, it’s not that bad. I’ve had worse,” Colt said, shoving the last of his second sandwich in his mouth. “You still haven’t told me what was up with you yesterday,” he continued, still chewing that sandwich.
Ashlynne took another bite of roll and just nodded a few times. Tears threatened her eyes again. It was nice that Colt was concerned, but how could she explain everything about her mom and lunches, plus the weird flashback in the shower and her paranoia that Hunter was back? Or why she had reason to worry about Hunter coming back to begin with? She’d have to explain everything – all that happened before Hunter had moved out. Even if she could somehow find a way to explain all of that, Colt would look at her in a completely different way. A cockroach may not disgust him, but surely this would.
She shifted in her seat to face Colt. “Yeah, I don’t really want to get into all that.” Colt finished his last sandwich and wiped his mouth with a crumpled napkin. “I really am sorry for screaming at you, though. That was awful.” Ashlynne reached for her chocolate milk, not really knowing what else to say, or what to do now.
“Yeah, it was,” Colt said, and he snatched the milk out of her hand, put it to his mouth, tipped his head back, and drank it all. He glanced at her with a gleam in his eyes and put the empty carton on his tray. “That was some crazy shit, man,” he chuckled and shifted in his seat, one forearm resting on the table, his other elbow on his knee, his torso tilted in toward Ashlynne.
“I really am sorry,” she said, reaching for a napkin to dab her eyes, which were dangerously close to overflowing now. “I feel awful –”
“Forget it,” he cut her off. “It was almost like having my sisters back home. Crazy chick hormones,” he chuckled.
“Yeah,” Ashlynne forced a chuckle and scooted her chair away from the table. Lunch break would be over soon and she needed to get ready for my next class. Or maybe she just needed an excuse to be alone.
Colt put a hand on her leg, right above the knee and squeezed gently. “Seriously. You okay?” Ashlynne met Colt’s gaze; his deep green eyes searched hers. There was no humor in his voice now, no mocking tone condemning female emotions. Genuine concern was written in kind eyes, and his thumb grazed her knee, back and forth, back and forth.
“I’ll be fine,” she whispered. Ashlynne stood up, letting Colt’s hand fall away from her leg, and emptied her tray in the trash. Soon she was out the door and headed back to classes.
Outside the lunchroom, she tucked her hands into her pockets and studied the floor. Colt seemed really worried. More than just “she’s my friend’s sister” concerned. It was kind of nice, but she also really wished he’d just leave it alone. If he kept at her about this, she might actually have to deal with the past; she wouldn’t be able to just let it slip to the back of her memory again. She’d never really tried to process everything that happened as a child and the thought of doing so was frightening. Sometimes she wasn’t even sure if what she remembered actually had happened.
Mostly, though, Ashlynne thought it was sweet that Colt wanted to make sure she was okay. When she walked into her next class, a small grin graced her face.
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