Tim first notices April
“Maybe the movie sucks so bad that the parents are buying their kids candy to make up for it.”
Tim wiped the counter with a paper towel as he listened to Darren’s theory on why they had sold so much candy that day. To their chagrin, they had discovered that they had to restock after the first rush. The candy counter usually had to be restocked only once a shift, if that. Today, though, despite it being fully stocked when the shift had begun, it was down to three or four of all but the most unappealing and expensive offering, the three dollar and fifty cent dark chocolate and orange fruit liqueur bars.
“Yeah, but, most of the candy was bought before they went in the movie. And if they know the movie sucked already, why do they go?”
“Good point,” Darren said. “Maybe there’s nothing better for them to do.”
“It’s a beautiful day,” Tim said. “They could have gone to the beach.” Briefly, Tim wondered if Helen and everybody else had arrived at the beach yet. Now that he was inside, the beach seemed more attractive, except the sun was too bright. He didn’t like the sun as much as his friends–it hurt his eyes, and because of his glasses, he couldn’t wear shades like everyone else.
“Maybe that’s it,” Darren said. “It’s hot today. People like to eat a lot of candy when they’re hot.”
“They do? I don’t think so. They like to eat ice cream.”
“So why didn’t we sell a lot of ice cream?”
“Because it costs three dollars and fifty cents,” Tim said. “For something that costs a dollar at 7-Eleven. Which could be said of everything we sell, but for some reason, it seems more obvious with the ice cream.” Tim was making all of this up as he went along, but since Darren was listening with such rapt attention, he felt obligated to keep going. “The candy, at least, is sold in different sizes than you usually see. The ice cream bars, though, are exactly the same what they could get anywhere.”
“I can see that,” Darren said. “But we still haven’t solved the greater mystery.”
Tim wadded up the paper towel and tossed it in the garbage can next to the door to the store room.
“There were a lot of kids, today,” Tim said. “That’s the reason.”
“Why so many kids, though?”
“School’s out,” Tim said. “For summer,” he added. He knew because the Movies I & II had just switched to their summer schedule, when they had matinee showings seven days a week, instead of just on weekends and holidays. Pete had explained this to him when he told Tim he didn’t want him to start working until the schedule switched.
“Yeah,” Darren said. “Todd and April just finished their year.” He seemed to realize something, and stopped wiping the counter. “Man,” he continued. “That means it’s been a whole year since I graduated. Doesn’t seem that long,” he added, more to himself than Todd. He shrugged and took a handful of popcorn from the rectangular cardboard box in front of him. “I’ll bet you’re right. All those parents, rewarding their kids for getting good grades this year.”
“Or just surviving it,” Tim said.
Based on what Darren had just said, both Todd and April must have been high school students, most likely at Santa Zita High, which was located on the other side of Redwood from Holly Street. He had worked with Todd his first shift the previous Wednesday. He was a brash, friendly youth with a geometric buzz cut and muscular frame. In between shifts he sat in the cashier’s stool and listened to rap music on a portable CD player at what must have been ear-splitting volume, considering that Tim had been able to hear the thud of the bass all the way at the other end of the snack bar.
April, on the other hand, he had not yet met. Today was the first time Tim had worked with her. When she had come in, Tim had only gotten a quick glance since he had already started working, restocking the stacks of popcorn and drink cups, something the shift the night before should have done but hadn’t. He’d only had a vague impression of a girl about Helen’s height, potentially cute.
Tim looked down the snack bar, but his view of April was blocked by the drink machine and poster stand. Seized with a desire to see what she looked like, Tim grabbed the spray bottle and leaned over the counter. While shooting blue cleaning fluid on the outer surface of the candy case, he peered to his left. April’s attention was focused on August, and Tim took the opportunity to admire her without her seeing. He liked the way she leaned over the counter and brushed a black strand of hair behind her ear as August whispered to her. Somehow she managed to make even in the black polyester pants and green-lined black vest of the TransPacific uniform look good. As he watched, she stood straight, then arched her back. Her vest parted and Tim saw the curve of her breasts through her white work shirt. She brought her arms up, clasping her hands behind her head and stretching, like a cobra spreading its hood, ready to strike.
Tim realized she was cute. But not just cute–she had an air of cool self-possession that made him want to be friends with her, and be part of her world. Some part of him pointed out that this girl might be too young for him, but he didn’t care. He could tell from the way she carried herself that she was old enough in every way that mattered.
Tim wiped the counter with a paper towel as he listened to Darren’s theory on why they had sold so much candy that day. To their chagrin, they had discovered that they had to restock after the first rush. The candy counter usually had to be restocked only once a shift, if that. Today, though, despite it being fully stocked when the shift had begun, it was down to three or four of all but the most unappealing and expensive offering, the three dollar and fifty cent dark chocolate and orange fruit liqueur bars.
“Yeah, but, most of the candy was bought before they went in the movie. And if they know the movie sucked already, why do they go?”
“Good point,” Darren said. “Maybe there’s nothing better for them to do.”
“It’s a beautiful day,” Tim said. “They could have gone to the beach.” Briefly, Tim wondered if Helen and everybody else had arrived at the beach yet. Now that he was inside, the beach seemed more attractive, except the sun was too bright. He didn’t like the sun as much as his friends–it hurt his eyes, and because of his glasses, he couldn’t wear shades like everyone else.
“Maybe that’s it,” Darren said. “It’s hot today. People like to eat a lot of candy when they’re hot.”
“They do? I don’t think so. They like to eat ice cream.”
“So why didn’t we sell a lot of ice cream?”
“Because it costs three dollars and fifty cents,” Tim said. “For something that costs a dollar at 7-Eleven. Which could be said of everything we sell, but for some reason, it seems more obvious with the ice cream.” Tim was making all of this up as he went along, but since Darren was listening with such rapt attention, he felt obligated to keep going. “The candy, at least, is sold in different sizes than you usually see. The ice cream bars, though, are exactly the same what they could get anywhere.”
“I can see that,” Darren said. “But we still haven’t solved the greater mystery.”
Tim wadded up the paper towel and tossed it in the garbage can next to the door to the store room.
“There were a lot of kids, today,” Tim said. “That’s the reason.”
“Why so many kids, though?”
“School’s out,” Tim said. “For summer,” he added. He knew because the Movies I & II had just switched to their summer schedule, when they had matinee showings seven days a week, instead of just on weekends and holidays. Pete had explained this to him when he told Tim he didn’t want him to start working until the schedule switched.
“Yeah,” Darren said. “Todd and April just finished their year.” He seemed to realize something, and stopped wiping the counter. “Man,” he continued. “That means it’s been a whole year since I graduated. Doesn’t seem that long,” he added, more to himself than Todd. He shrugged and took a handful of popcorn from the rectangular cardboard box in front of him. “I’ll bet you’re right. All those parents, rewarding their kids for getting good grades this year.”
“Or just surviving it,” Tim said.
Based on what Darren had just said, both Todd and April must have been high school students, most likely at Santa Zita High, which was located on the other side of Redwood from Holly Street. He had worked with Todd his first shift the previous Wednesday. He was a brash, friendly youth with a geometric buzz cut and muscular frame. In between shifts he sat in the cashier’s stool and listened to rap music on a portable CD player at what must have been ear-splitting volume, considering that Tim had been able to hear the thud of the bass all the way at the other end of the snack bar.
April, on the other hand, he had not yet met. Today was the first time Tim had worked with her. When she had come in, Tim had only gotten a quick glance since he had already started working, restocking the stacks of popcorn and drink cups, something the shift the night before should have done but hadn’t. He’d only had a vague impression of a girl about Helen’s height, potentially cute.
Tim looked down the snack bar, but his view of April was blocked by the drink machine and poster stand. Seized with a desire to see what she looked like, Tim grabbed the spray bottle and leaned over the counter. While shooting blue cleaning fluid on the outer surface of the candy case, he peered to his left. April’s attention was focused on August, and Tim took the opportunity to admire her without her seeing. He liked the way she leaned over the counter and brushed a black strand of hair behind her ear as August whispered to her. Somehow she managed to make even in the black polyester pants and green-lined black vest of the TransPacific uniform look good. As he watched, she stood straight, then arched her back. Her vest parted and Tim saw the curve of her breasts through her white work shirt. She brought her arms up, clasping her hands behind her head and stretching, like a cobra spreading its hood, ready to strike.
Tim realized she was cute. But not just cute–she had an air of cool self-possession that made him want to be friends with her, and be part of her world. Some part of him pointed out that this girl might be too young for him, but he didn’t care. He could tell from the way she carried herself that she was old enough in every way that mattered.
Works
Recent Writing
- 1989 A Novel: Tim overhears a mysterious conversation between his co-workers
- 1989 A Novel: Tim first notices April
- 1989 A Novel: Morning at Holly Street
- 1989 A Novel: The world wakes up
- 1989 A Novel: Tim is woken up by strange sounds