Maria stands beside me, watching and listening.
I ignore Nathan's apology and instead say to him, "Welcome to Perk Me Up! Can I take your order, sir?"
"Come on, Barbie. You kissed me yesterday. Why am I the villain for kissing you today?"
"You kissed him?" Maria asks.
I turn to her. "Only because I wanted him to stop hating me."
Maria's eyebrows furrow in fascination. "You kiss people who hate you?"
"I don't hate her," Nathan chimes in.
"Oh, really?" I say sarcastically, putting my hands on my hips. "Then why do you keep calling me Barbie? And why didn't you kiss me back yesterday when we were in the elevator, but today you have no problem making out with me with the entire school watching?"
"It was to prove a point."
"To prove you're not g*y? Listen, you're not cute enough to be g*y."
Nathan laughs. "Are you kidding me? You are the most stereotypical, insensitive, and obnoxious girl I've ever met."
"I take offense to that," I say, then cross my arms in front of my chest.
"Me, too," Maria interjects. "Amy's rough around the edges, but she's as good as gold."
"Oh, you're so sweet, Maria," I say, then hug her.
Nathan points to me. "She thinks I'm a dork because I wear old clothes and have glasses."
"Well, he thinks I'm a bitch because I say out loud what everyone else is thinking."
"You know what I think?" Maria says, stepping closer to the counter.
Nathan and I say, "What?" in unison.
"I think you two like each other."
I roll my eyes while Nathan does a shiver as if the thought of liking me grosses him out.
"Nope," he says.
"Not at all" I say. "Besides, I have Avi. And he's got Bucky."
"Bicky."
"Whatever."
"Yep," Maria says, then saunters to the supply room like she knows what's going on. "You guys definitely like each other."
Nathan starts to laugh.
"It's not funny," I say. More customers come into the café, so it's my chance to say to Nathan, "Please order or step aside so I can wait on someone else."
"I'll have a medium green tea with ice, no sweetener," he says, diverting my attention back to him.
Figures he'd order something so plain.
After I take his money and turn around to make his boring drink, Nathan says so only I can hear, "Don't spit in it."
As if I would. Puh leaze.
I hand his drink to him and focus my attention on the other customers.
The hour goes by fast. Making drinks, cleaning off the tables, and ignoring Nathan typing away in the computer corner is exhausting, though. I sigh in relief when my dad walks through the door to pick me up.
My dad has already changed clothes from work. He's wearing dark jeans and a black long-sleeve tee. I've convinced him to grow his hair out a bit, so he resembles a cuter and cooler dad but he's still got about two months to go before he can get a good style going.
"Hey, Aba," I greet him.
Out of the corner of my eye I swear I see Nathan watching us.
"How was school today?" my dad asks. I look over at Nathan. Now he's pretending to read the computer screen, but I know he's not reading a damn thing. He's wondering if I'll tell my dad what happened in the cafeteria. "Nothing much. What about you?"
My dad kisses the top of my head. "Just preparing for a presentation in D.C. You ready to go?"
"Yep."
"Great. where to?"
I grab my dad's elbow and journey into the cold outside air. "Follow me," I say, leading him down State Street.
I lean into my dad to try and soak up some of the warmth of his strong commando arm. "I'm sorry I yelled at you yesterday," I say. "I just want you to be happy."
"I'm sorry, too. You didn't make any more dates for me, did you?"
"Here we are," I tell him as we turn down artsy Oak Street with the designer shops and upscale salons. I pull him into the first building we come to, a place called Sheer-Ahz. I purposely leave out the speed-dating thing I signed him up for at the last minute.
"You're getting a haircut?" he asks when he realizes Sheer-Ahz is a salon.
"Nope."
He halts his steps abruptly. "Then why the salon?" I look up at him and smile widely as if he was a customer at Perk Me Up! "We're getting manicures."
"You mean you're getting a manicure."
"Nope. You heard me right the first time, Aba."
"Men don't get manicures."
"Come, on. Haven't you heard of metrosexual men?"
My dad shakes his head. "No. And I'm sure I don't want to be one."
"Didn't you say I could pick what we do tonight?"
"Yes, but--"
I turn to my dad, one of the few people who takes my crap and loves me despite it. Maybe even more because of it. My dad pretends he's not afraid of anything, but I've just uncovered his weakness... getting his nails trimmed and shaped. Give me a break. "This is what I want to do. My nails are all dry and cracked. Think of it as daddy/ daughter bonding time."
"Can't we bond by playing indoor soccer or something like that?" he says.
"I don't do soccer. I do manicures." I pull all six feet of him up to the front desk. "We have appointments for two manicures," I inform the lady. "For Amy and Ron Barak."