Life is Strange, page 6
“But how?” I ask. “He’s a celebrity politician. Apparently.”
“At least to these people,” says Steph. “But he has to be alone sometimes, right? Everybody shits.”
“I am not talking to Jonah while he’s taking a shit.”
“You won’t have to. We’ll figure it out tomorrow. For now,” she says, rolling over and unzipping her duffel on the nightstand. I hear the crinkle of cellophane and my stomach folds over and growls.
“Corn chips anyone?” she asks, tossing a bag over her shoulder so it hits me square in the chest.
“Oh, hell yeah,” I say, sitting up and tearing open the bag like a wild animal.
I chonk ’em all down so fast I barely have time to taste them. I look up and see Steph turning up her bag and pouring the crumbs into her mouth.
We look at each other. Still hungry.
“Let’s find a diner tomorrow. First thing in the morning.”
I nod, and then I remember Ethan’s text.
I turn and reach down under the mattress we’re both on.
“What are you—”
I pull out a bar of chocolate. A huge bar. Like, Ethan mentioned he had chocolate stashed. He didn’t say he had a chocolate stash the size of my face.
“Jackpot.”
6: The Diner
Pretty much every small town I’ve ever been to has a diner. Usually it’s retro, the kitchen grease hasn’t been replaced since the Nineties, the coffee tastes like dog shit, and the food is exactly what you need at 4 am on a cold morning when you wake up for no reason because you’re in a new place in a new bed and you’re hungry and the guy you’re staying with has only enough food for one.
This is the Plate and Skate Diner.
Steph takes a sip of her coffee.
“This tastes like dog shit.”
I grin and stare down at my cup. She’s right. But sometimes bad coffee just hits the spot.
She smiles up at me, and the sight of her holding back a laugh sends my sides into orbit. We both burst into laughter, and I hear the bell ring behind me announcing the arrival of a new customer.
I hear hushed voices behind me. From over the rim of her coffee mug, Steph stifles her laughter to look just past my head, and I can’t help it—I turn around to look.
A woman in a navy pant suit has stepped up to the front counter, where Anita—that’s the name of our waitress—runs up to meet her.
“Mornin’,” she smiles, but the woman in the suit is clearly not here to be seated.
“What do you suppose she’s here for?” Steph’s voice intrudes. I hear her take another sip behind me, but I don’t turn.
“I don’t know,” I reply absentmindedly, watching as our waitress turns and walks back toward the kitchen. The woman in the suit spots me, and I turn around way too fast.
“Wow,” says Steph. I tuck my hair behind my ear and pick up my coffee mug so I can look busy.
“What?”
“You’re really bad at spying on people.”
I roll my eyes and Steph leans over the table, shoulders hunched, smile huge and mischievous like she’s stalking prey.
“Who do you think she is?”
“Gotta be Maisie Dorsey.”
“You think Maisie Dorsey would be slinking around the Plate and Skate at…” she taps her phone screen and it lights up with life, “four in the morning? No.”
She has a point.
“I mean, I don’t know many people who would be slinking around a Barbazal diner in a business suit like that.”
“Yeah, that thing probably costs more than my car. Not a wrinkle in sight either. Reminds me of Diane from Typhon Mining.”
My entire spine prickles with how obviously Steph is leaning to look past me.
“Uh, hello? She’ll see you?”
“So?” she grins. “We don’t even know who she is.”
I hear footsteps behind me, and then I hear our waitress’s voice.
“Coming right out for you,” she says, before those same footsteps grow closer. Anita appears next to our table.
“Have you two decided what you’d like?”
“Um, yeah,” says Steph, “I’ll take the California benedict, please. Side of fruit?”
“Uh, sorry, the California’s unavailable.”
“What?” asks Steph, glancing down at the menu again just to make sure she read it right.
“Anything with poached eggs is off the docket,” sighs Anita apologetically. “Sorry, hun. Dishes like that use up too much water. We’ve been over our quota lately and had to make some tough choices. I could do scrambled on the side if you like?”
Steph shrugs. “Sounds good.”
“Uh-huh,” Anita says, jotting it down in her notepad. “And for you?”
Aw shit, I haven’t even had a chance to look.
“I’ll just have… uh…” and then I panic and stare straight at Steph, as though she would have any idea what to order for me? Steph shrugs and glances at Anita and I blurt out the first thing that comes to mind.
“I’ll have… toast?”
“Toast?” they both exclaim in unison. Steph and Anita look at me with so much judgement, I wonder if I’ve spoken English.
“Uh, French toast,” I correct. “With bacon.” Okay, now that I’m talking, my stomach reminds me of just how hungry I really am. “And two eggs over medium, please.”
Satisfied, Steph gathers up both of our menus and hands them to Anita, but she doesn’t let her go just yet.
“So,” asks Steph, “who’s fancy suit lady?”
“Name’s Daphne Brinkley,” Anita says, “but I know who this order is for.”
I steal another glance behind me, where I find Daphne twisting her hands and looking around nervously.
“I’ve worked here for thirty-five years and only one person has ever ordered a short stack of chocolate-chip smiley-face pancakes, a tomahawk steak, medium rare, a side of home fries with ketchup on the side, and a bowl of bread-n-butter pickles.”
“What the—?” I blurt out. Steph snorts in my direction, but I couldn’t help it. That order is weird as hell. “I mean, I’d remember that order too.”
“Jonah’s been orderin’ it since he was a kid. Well, minus the tomahawk steak. That started when his doctor told him he was low on iron. Must’ve made up for it by now eatin’ like that.”
“Woah, you know Jonah Macon?” asks Steph, glancing at me with the most suggestive smile. Who’s the worst at snooping again? She might as well do a full-blown eyebrow wiggle at me.
“’Course,” she says, refilling Steph’s coffee mug. “Y’know he was born and raised here?”
“What was he like as a kid?”
Damn, Steph isn’t holding back.
“Oh, you know, shy. Quiet. Used to come in with his dad all the time. Never gave me any trouble. Sweet kid. I’m sure he’ll do right by us with this drought mess. Hope so anyway. Hard to run a diner on limited water.”
Steph glances down at her mug, and I glance down at mine. Maybe that explains the state of the coffee.
Anita turns to leave.
“I’ll be back with y’all’s order.”
I try to picture a tiny Jonah walking into this diner, hand in hand with his father. Did he have that million-dollar politician smile even then? Or did that only develop after the cameras and the interviews and the speculation that must come with having such a publicly available face?
I think of his diner order. Chocolate-chip smiley-face pancakes. Tomahawk steak, medium rare. Side of fries. Bowl of pickles. I can picture the news people covering the story.
I just can’t see how someone who claims to be environmentally responsible can order a tomahawk steak, something that’s not only hostile to animals but requires gallons and gallons of water to produce. Did he even take care to ask if that steak was grass fed and sustainably raised?
I’m all for eating sustainably, but if Jonah Macon has to order such a bizarre breakfast from his hotel room because of the paparazzi, that’s… kinda sad.
“Hey,” says Steph, “you’re thinking again.”
“I was just thinking about Jonah.”
Steph’s smile doesn’t fall, but it doesn’t rise either.
“Y’know, I meant what I said about being here for you and helping you do whatever makes you happy. But I’m also here to ask you questions like: Yo, Alex, are you doing what makes you happy or are you ruminating on something that might make you sad until you fix it?”
I put my mug down, unable to look at her.
“Just,” she says, resting her hand over my fingers, “be careful, okay?”
I nod.
And our food arrives.
The French toast distracts me for a while, because, hey, it’s French toast, and a boatload of calories ends up being exactly what I need. Steph’s phone lights up just as she pops a couple of fresh berries into her mouth. She leans and peers over the street before muttering, “Dammit.”
“What?” I say, wedging another piece of French toast into my mouth.
“I asked the group chat if anyone knows anyone with a Saturn that doesn’t need pistons. Or, you know, can drive us.”
“Let me guess,” I say. “We’re too far away?”
“Can no one spare a six-hour drive on a weekend? I even offered to pay!”
“Not even Ryan?” I ask around another mouthful.
“Not even Ryan,” she sighs. “Apparently, he’s gone off to Appalachia to explore some exotic bird calls or something.”
I chuckle. “Sounds like Ryan.” A thought hits me. “Are there exotic birds in Appalachia?”
“Who knows?” she chuckles, taking a bite of her eggs. “So anyway, what’s the plan?”
“What plan?”
“To get close to Jonah?”
A plan? I don’t really have a plan. I was just going to wait around and see if we ran into him?
I need a plan.
“What if,” Steph says, “we wait until he goes to the bathroom—?”
“No,” I say immediately. I’ve already played that idea out in my head, and I’d rather not pick up a stalking charge before we get to the big city.
“I know, I know,” she says, “but just hear me out. We wait for him to go to the bathroom, and then you reach over the stall and read his emotions.”
“Steph, there’s no way I’m doing that in the bathroom! What emotions would he have in there anyway?”
“You’ve never taken a joyous shit before?” she asks.
The laughter bubbles forth so quick, I feel coffee spray from my nose and I scramble for a napkin, trying not to choke on more laughs. Steph is trying so hard to stifle her laughs, she has to turn away from me and cover her face completely.
I look around, heat flooding my entire face, and when I can finally get a breath in, and Steph’s composed herself too, she continues. “Think about it, though. Where else will we catch him alone?”
“What if we do this the right way and just ask his assistant for some one-on-one time with him? I’m sure he could spare a five-minute interview.”
“His schedule is probably packed,” she says. “And that’s probably with press engagements only. We’ve gotta be sneaky.”
I look over my shoulder where Daphne is still standing there, wringing her hands, waiting on Jonah’s ridiculous order. Maybe tomahawk steaks take a long time to sear to perfection. Before I have time to talk myself out of it, I’m up and out of the booth and walking toward her.
“No! Wait! Alex, what are you doing?” come Steph’s frantic whispers behind me. But I press on toward Daphne, who’s staring back at me like she’s unsure if I’m going to ask her a question or walk right by.
“Hey,” I say, way too eagerly. I give her a generous distance, because a huge purple aura flares up around her head like one of those lizards with the fans that pop out when they’re startled.
“Good morning,” she grins, that same plastic, glazed-over look that Jonah was wearing in Elias’s memory. She’s all smiles, but clearly nervous about something, probably wondering whether I’m paparazzi or not.
“You look like you know your way around this place,” I say, having no idea where the hell I’m going with this. “Is the food good?”
She smirks and nods past me. “You tell me.”
Oh. Right. I’ve been sitting eating with a friend. She’s the one who hasn’t eaten yet. Stupid, so stupid! Come on, Alex.
“Can I help you with something?” she asks. I look at her again, sheepish this time.
“Look,” I begin, pressing all my fingers against each other. “I know Jonah must be super busy this week, but… could he spare ten minutes with me?”
It’s gonna be a no, I just know it. Steph was right, this was a bad idea. I’m so embarrassed, I want to curl up into a little ball and disappear.
But that “no” doesn’t come.
“Are you a student?”
Am I a what?
“Uh, yes! I mean, I’m always down to learn…” Alex, get it together. “What I mean is… I’m not a student at an accredited institution, but I really care about the people of Barbazal, and I know Jonah does too. I want to know what his plan is for the drought situation.”
Daphne’s purple aura vanishes suddenly, and hope wells in my chest. Maybe I’m getting somewhere with her?
“Mr. Macon is dedicated to ensuring a better life for all Coloradans,” she smiles comfortably, “Climate change is of the utmost importance to him, and with the recent heatwave affecting several farming communities in the area, the drought is at the top of his list of priorities.”
She just spent several dozen words not answering my question. And then I realize why that purple aura disappeared—Daphne is in her element now. Catch Jonah Macon’s assistant sneaking around a diner stealth-ordering a steak and pickles, and she’s frazzled as shit. Ask Jonah Macon’s assistant a political question, and it’s all cupcakes and roses for her.
I’m going to have to take a different approach.
“What does that mean?” I ask.
Her face is unwavering as I continue.
“What does ‘at the top of his list of priorities’ mean? Is he doing anything to stop it? Anything to help Barbazal and the people who make their living farming? Or does it mean he’s ready to tell people that it’s at the top of his list of priorities?”
I come off harsher than I intended to. Daphne forces a smile, but her narrowed eyes tell me she’s prepared to do battle.
“It means that I’ll forward your concerns to Jonah, and I’m sure he’ll be delighted to hear such passion from a supporter.”
I keep my eyes trained on her, silently studying her, wondering what I can say to throw her off her game.
“Jonah didn’t always order the tomahawk steak, you know,” I say. “He started with just the pancakes.”
And I turn to leave. But when I glance over my shoulder, I see her standing there with the blankest expression. When Anita practically jogs up to her with the stack of three Styrofoam to-go clamshells, Daphne doesn’t flinch. A new color blend blooms above Daphne’s head, mixing together like watercolors in the air. It reminds me of the hospital, sitting with Gabe and Dad in a way-too-white waiting room, in a chair so high my feet dangled above the floor.
She came in with a clipboard—they always had clipboards—and she shut the door behind her and sighed.
“Well?” asked Dad. But he didn’t have to. He knew. Gabe knew. I knew.
“We got the results back.”
I slam myself back down into the booth across from Steph, who stops mid-chew to stare at me wide-eyed.
“Are you okay?”
We cried that day at the doctor’s office, auras oscillating between purple, deep blue, and red.
Purple, for fear of losing Mom.
Blue, for the deep, aching sadness we felt.
I wonder if I would’ve seen this new watercolor magenta blend over us all if I were this familiar with my powers back then.
“Alex?”
I don’t look at Steph—I can’t. If I do, the tears will come, and if the tears come, Steph will call the whole plan off.
I focus on my plate, shoving a huge forkful of French toast into my mouth.
And then I offer a sliver of an explanation.
“She’s confused.”
7: The Car
“Confused, huh?” asks Steph.
“Yup.”
I hate to give a one-word answer, but my brain is busy. We’re lying side by side on the grass in Owen’s backyard, if you can call it a backyard. It’s about the size of a queen-sized bed, but it’s the only chill spot we have in this town. So, here I lie, and I take a deep breath of the fresh and hot Barbazal air. I can feel how dry it is in my nostrils. Feels like the moisture here is just… gone.
I’ll forward your concerns to Jonah, and I’m sure he’ll be delighted to hear such passion from a supporter.
Daphne, that… that…
No, I won’t call her names. She’s just doing her job. And doing it well, frankly.
“You know what you need?” asks Steph.
I need a lot of things. A hug. A nap. A drink.
“What do I need?” I ask, humoring her.
“A walk,” she says, peeling herself from the ground. “A long, boring walk in the hot sun.”
“In a town with no water? Pass.”
She glances up at Owen’s trailer.
“Owen’s got water,” she says.
That gets my attention.
I sit up and look at her.
“You can’t mean to imply that we should really go steal from Ethan’s uncle, right?”
“I mean, is it stealing if we’re staying there? What kind of host doesn’t offer their guests water? And then tell them they can have as much as they want? It’s water, for god’s sake.”
I mean, she has a point. But also…
“The kind of host that also doesn’t offer their guests anything to eat?” I remind her.
“Good point,” she says. “Alright, time to find a garden hose in a public park then.”
“The hell?” I chuckle. There’s no way I’m drinking from a public park hose. Do they even have hoses in public parks?
