Pelican Bay Security

Chapter 8: Welcome to Bonnie's

Twenty minutes later Katy and I stand outside Bonnie's Diner on Main Street. I managed to get the paint off my face and hands, but blobs of light blue are still stuck in my hair. It looks like I'm sporting highlights from a paintball gun. Katy swore there wasn't time for a shower, but she somehow painted and didn't get a drop on her. She could be a witch. Or a relative of Martha Stewart.

"Bonnie's has the best club sandwich," Katy says as she holds the glass door open for me.

Let's hope the food is better than the décor. Bonnie's hasn't changed a single bit since my last visit to Pelican Bay. It's your typical 1980s diner. There are no cute black and white tile floors or themed pictures on the wall. Rather it's stark and in a weird way reminds me of the restaurant the characters always ate at on the Seinfeld sitcom.

There's a white tile floor, rows of booths on the side wall, and tables spread out in the open area. A laminate counter spans the length of the back wall with stools lined up underneath. Two men in trucker hats sit at the counter, plates of food in front of them. A few other couples take up various seats, and a family of four sits at a table in the middle. The two children sit under the table and take turns hitting one another. Their parents remain blissfully unaware and continue eating like there's nothing strange happening. They're my favorite group in the bunch because for whatever reason — probably pretending their kids aren't covered in floor germs — they haven't turned to stare.

"Nothing to see here, people!" Katy yells out to the onlookers and my cheeks turn bright red.

But surprisingly it works. Everyone turns back to their meals without a sound and we walk the rest of the way into Bonnie's and pick a seat in the far back. The black vinyl of the booth crinkles as I slide in, my jeans catching on a rip in the fabric.

"You're a crazy person," I whisper across the table. This whole town is full of crazy people. They walk in your house uninvited, act like they've known you their entire life, and steal your mail. Who does that?

The crazy blonde in front of me shrugs like she's heard that comment more than once. Although the help with painting and a hot guy neighbor aren't so bad if I think about it. Small town life might have a few perks — if you're able to get over the general weirdness. It's probably cabin fever from being stuck inside all winter. They're so excited they survived the freezing temperatures now they feel the need to socialize with other lifeforms.

"What'll you ladies have?" The waitress asks. She's clad in a pair of black pants and a matching black polo, with Bonnie's Diner embroidered in the corner.

Katy hands our laminated menus over before I look at the items. "A Moxie and the club. Thanks."

"And you, Tabitha?" the waitress asks and looks to me. Seriously, this town is f*****g weird. Pearl's phone tree gets around.

"The same... Trish." I read her name off the white name badge affixed to her shirt. If she's allowed to know my name it's only fair I learn hers. "But with a coke." I've never heard of this Moxie thing.

Trish walks away and Katy laughs — possibly at my expression as my eyes scan the diner looking to see who's staring at me. It's like being an animal on display at the zoo.

"They'll get over it. Right now you're the kid who transferred into a small high school senior year. The shiny new object everyone wants to play with."

It's weird how Katy acts like this situation is normal. Hell, to her it probably is. She has no idea how private and solo the rest of the world is. There were times I'd go days without seeing someone I knew in the city.

Katy and I talked for hours while we painted this afternoon. I'm pretty sure I've learned everything there is to know about the perky blonde. Twenty-six like me, she graduated high school and then spent five years at Pelican Bay University, a small private school, studying... well everything. The girl changed majors more than I change nail polish. She finally settled on administration and is now an office manager at a doctor's office in Whitecap three days a week.

I don't want to start my new life here with lies, but it's hard to dress up my lackluster history. She received the truth, but a muted, watered down version.

"Don't let them bother you, Tabitha. Most people who live in the Bay are nice once you get to know them. And trust me to steer you clear of the not-so-nice ones."

I peel my eyes away from the rest of the diner and focus on Katy as Trish delivers our drinks. Katy's is served in a glass bottle with an orange label and dark liquid inside. My stomach growls at her comment. "It's different from the city. There you're surrounded by people, but still feel alone. You never truly know someone."

With no real friends or commitments in Westford, it was easy to pick up and move without a forwarding address. One afternoon spent with Katy and I question why I didn't move here four years ago.

"It doesn't matter. We all live and die, right? The important part to remember about Pelican Bay is this. They've already decided whether they like you or not. There's nothing you can do to change it, so don't stress about it. If you walk around trying to please everyone, you'll end up on Bayview screaming into the sea."

She sounds like Aunt Gertie and I simply nod back.

"It's too hard to act like someone else. To fit in. I spent four years with that in high school. I sure as hell won't do it anymore. Be yourself. Everyone will judge you one way or another." She leans in close so not to be overheard. "So why not give them a good story?"

Trish places two plates in front of us and Katy wastes no time picking up a slice of her sandwich and taking a large bite. The platter looks like a club you'd get anywhere else — the bread cut into four pieces with a toothpick keeping the tomato, lettuce, bacon and other random meats together. There's a pickle wedge on the side.

Still, for the first time in at least the last hour, Katy has stopped chatting. I need a moment to gather my thoughts. It's been a hell of a week. What living have I done in the last few years? Not much. I met Mario after I finished college — the last time I had fun — a whirlwind romance ensued and I moved in with him after a month of dating. Not my smartest decision. I accept that. My hand falls to my thigh and I rub my palm over the minor bulge in my pocket. The white thumb drive with copied files from Mario's private computer is small enough to forget about, but I never do.

Pelican Bay isn't only a chance for me to get away from Mario, but from everything. It's an opportunity to reinvent my life. Get back to the girl I used to be before I forgot myself. There's no one looking over my shoulder. It's my time to say f**k it and shine. Aunt Gertie would be proud.

"Oh. One of those douchebags I mentioned earlier is on your six."

I half turn.

"Don't check! Your newness will call him over here. It's like a freaking beacon. You're flashing 'Look at me. I'm new! Come, introduce yourself.'"

"What?" I whip back around and try to act casual — whatever that means.

Katy sighs. "Too late. Here he comes."