Betting on You

“Oh my God.” I couldn’t believe it. Mr. Nothing was bouncing at my new job; what were the odds? Howwwww is this happening?? I tried to sound casual and like I didn’t care as I stared in his direction and whispered, “I know that guy.”

“He’s hot.”

“Is he?” I tilted my head and tried to appraise him as he jumped. He was tall, dark-haired, and broad-shouldered—objectively a handsome human, I supposed—but it was impossible for me to see past his Mr. Nothing face.

I could still hear his deep voice moaning about questionable meat on the airplane.

Nekesa tilted her head too, and said, “Totally hot. How do you know him?”

I knew what she meant, but it irritated me at the same time that it made total sense. I didn’t ever put myself out there and talk to guys, especially not “hot” guys that I didn’t know, so the question was valid.

Still, it felt not great.

The DJ raised the volume on “Jump Around,” but the trainer appeared to be done with the morning invocation. He was drinking coffee and looking down at his phone.

“I sat next to him on a ten-hour flight a few years ago, and he was absolutely obnoxious.” I watched as he jumped with an athletic casualness that didn’t actually look uncool. “He had all these ridiculous opinions. I remember specifically that he said girls and guys could never truly be friends.”

“That’s weird,” she said, still watching him.

“Right?” He was casually jumping, but I sensed that he was fully aware we were staring at him. I said, “It doesn’t matter. He’s a total smart-ass who has hated me since I refused to let him cut in the boarding line. Let’s—”

“Glasses?” He looked directly at us—at me—and yelled from across the Jump-O-Sphere, “I thought that was you.”

Nooooooooooo.

My heart started racing and I wanted to disappear.

He scrambled off the Jumpoline, crossed the crater canyon, and bounced toward us. I managed to mumble something polite like, “Yes, um, it’s me. How are you?”

“Fine.” He did a little chin nod, his eyes on mine as if trying to see my thoughts. “You?”

I nodded and wondered if that smell—something clean and masculine—was coming from him. “Fine.”

Could this be any more awkward?

“I’m going to test out Universal Bounce.” Nekesa pointed to the purple section, the adult trampolines with a big bounce-up bar in the center. “I’ll be right back.”

And she just turned and bounced in the other direction, giving me absolutely no chance to stop her. I clenched my jaw and steeled myself for the impending barrage of the guy’s inflammatory rhetoric. I attempted diversion by starting with, “So you’re working here too, huh?”

His eyebrows scrunched together, like he was disappointed in me for stating the obvious, as he said, “Yep.”

Now he gave me a one-word answer? I would’ve killed for that on the flight from Alaska. I tried again as I realized I had no idea what his name was. “I’m Bailey, by the way.”

Can that be right? It seemed beyond strange that we hadn’t exchanged names before, but I couldn’t come up with a single, solitary guess of what his was. “Mr. Nothing” just fit him, but maybe that’s because it’s how I’d always referred to him.

Well, in my head. I’d never actually referred to him out loud at all.

“Charlie.”

Charlie.

Somehow it suited him.

I tried again for small talk because I just couldn’t handle the awkwardness. “So how’s the girlfriend? Are you still with prom girl?”

I saw his Adam’s apple bob around a big swallow, and his gaze shifted just past my shoulder, like something behind us was in need of his eyes. For a second I thought he wasn’t going to respond, but then he said, “No, we broke up.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.” I slowed my bounce and looked at his face, and for some reason it mattered that the sadness was still there. I could feel the ache in his eyes; his melancholy was familiar, a friend we had in common. “I am really, really sorry, Charlie.”

His eyes came back to me as he shrugged and slowed as well. “What’re you gonna do, right? It had to end sometime. What about you? Are you still with Mr. Skintight Shirt?”

I pictured Zack’s hand on Kelsie’s lower back as she ordered coffee that morning, and my stomach got tight. I still couldn’t believe he shared grins and the sound of milk steaming with her now. I was fine with him moving on, but why did our moments have to move with him? I sighed before sliding into a Who cares grin and saying, “Nope—we broke up too.”

“Must be something going around, huh?” he said, and I could tell by the rigid set of his jaw that he was over this mindless small talk that pressed on his wound.

“I guess,” I murmured, unsure of what else to say.

“You two aren’t jumping!” The DJ sounded like he was eating the microphone as he called out Charlie and me.

I rolled my eyes and Charlie kind of smirked, but we both started jumping again. He put his hands into the pockets of his flight suit and said, “And the parents? How’s the divorce thing going on your end?”

“My mother is seeing someone now, so that’s fun,” I said, unsure why I was actually answering his question. He was obnoxious Mr. Nothing, a stranger I didn’t know or particularly care for, yet I kept going. “And my dad seems to be losing his verve for buying expensive plane tickets, so God only knows when I’m going to visit him again.”

“Their dating is the worst, isn’t it?” He gave me another one of those looks that spoke volumes, like the one he’d given me for a split second on the plane three years ago, and he said, “My mom has a boyfriend who pretty much lives with us right now, and I can’t tell you how much I love it when he eats my Pop-Tarts. Like, just the sight of him at the table in the morning puts me in a murderous rage.”

I laughed at that, a genuine, feels-good-to-the-core laugh, because I felt seen. Someone, even if it was just Charlie from the plane, knew exactly how I felt. “For me it’s soda. He drinks gallons of regular Coke, but then I can’t—”

“You can’t make your halfsies,” he interrupted, his mouth turning up in a small smile.

A startled laugh escaped me. I was shocked that he would immediately remember the soda and get it. “Bingo.”

Also—wow—was that a genuine smile?

The music stopped and the DJ was back to deep-throating the microphone. “All right, squadron, let’s bounce on out of here, grab ourselves a doughnut, and head to the Milky Way for launch.”

“I’m assuming that’s a training room?” I muttered, disappointed that our parental-horror-story exchange was over before it’d begun. I couldn’t explain it, but our fleeting moment of commiseration had felt good.

It was nice to have a partner in suffering.

God—how weird was that, that I actually wanted to talk to Mr. Nothing?

Maybe I was coming down with something.

“Or they’re slingshotting us into orbit,” he said, looking at the deep-throating DJ with an expression so disgusted that it made me want to laugh. “Either way, it’s probably gonna be painful.”

“Probably,” I agreed, and Nekesa joined us as we exited the trampoline area and were ushered down the hall.

Once we got to the Milky Way, we were split up into four groups: Red Dwarfs, White Dwarfs, Protostars, and Red Giants.

Charlie asked without raising his hand, “Because we’re all stars. Seriously?”

I could hear people snickering, but the perky lady in charge of our training class gave him a wide Miss America smile, totally unfazed by his snark. “You got it, hon. We thought it would be real excitin’ to use the stars for our four teams.”

He put his hands into the pockets of his pants and looked down at his feet, almost as if he was working hard to keep his sarcastic thoughts to himself.

That’s new.

Although, to be fair, Charlie actually seemed like he’d completely changed from the last time I’d seen him.

He was taller, but not in a typical he’s-grown-a-little-in-the-past-couple-years way. No, Charlie had to be, like, at least six foot three now—he was big.

Not only that, but his face had changed. The dark eyes still twinkled with trouble, but the face they were set in had popped from boyish softness into chiseled edges.

He had that whole contradiction thing going on, I supposed. Boy and man. Mischievous and intense.

The promise of multitudes.

Yeah, Nekesa was right—he was very attractive.

Not to me—God, no—but objectively speaking, he was a handsome guy.

I pulled out my phone—no messages—and after a brief perusal of the crowd, my eyes went back to Charlie.

Who was listening to the speaker like an interested new employee.

Wow—he really had changed.

The woman went on to list off the teams and their designated training rooms. There was no explanation on how the group was split up or what it meant, but Nekesa and I were Protostars, staying in the Milky Way, while Charlie was called to line up with the Red Giants, who were headed to Mars. He shrugged and followed his group out of the room, and I was torn between being a tiny bit disappointed that he was gone and massively relieved I wasn’t going to have to work with him all the time.

Because even though he appeared to have grown up a little, and we’d just shared a decent human moment, there was surely enough Mr. Nothing left in him to drive me mad on a daily basis.

Once the Protostars were alone, we were each given a big red shield with a P to affix to our uniforms. We were told that our group was the administrative band that would hold the front line of fun together. We would train to become front desk clerks, concession stand reps, restaurant hostesses, and Funcierges (fun concierges). Pretty much any job that involved a little responsibility and customer fiduciary interaction fell to our team.

I was slightly offended when Mr. Cleveland, our trainer, explained that our group scored high in professionalism but very low on the fun vibe. He said our love language wasn’t socialization but rule-following, and though that might sound like a drag—the man literally used that word—we were essential to the success of Planet Funnn.

He mentioned that the other teams had roles such as “audience exciter,” “waterslide daredevil,” “snowball fight instigator,” and my favorite, “karaoke influencer,” so I imagined their training curriculum would differ wildly from ours.

About an hour into an incredibly boring PowerPoint presentation on the history of our parent company (Funnnertainment, Inc.), the side door creaked open and Charlie walked in, loose-limbed and looking totally chill with the fact that he was interrupting our very large group.

Mr. Cleveland stopped speaking. “Can I help you?”

If it were me, I would’ve died of embarrassment as the eyes of the entire Milky Way rested upon me. But Charlie was relaxed. He put his hands into the pockets of his flight suit and said, “Yeah. Um. Apparently there was a mistake. I guess I’m supposed to be in here.”

“You’re a Protostar?”

I rolled my lips inward, wanting to laugh at Charlie’s face; he grimaced like Cleveland had called him something vile. Charlie said, “Well, those are the words that they told me to say. So, um, I guess yes.”

Mr. Cleveland gestured to the open seat in the front row. “Then have a seat.”

“Awesome,” Charlie said, dropping into the chair.

“Your timing is perfect, son, because we’re just about to go over the Funnnertainment Employee Handbook.” The man chuckled loudly for a half second, very clown-like, before adding, “Buckle up, Protostars, cuz it’s about to get real.”

I bit down on my lip to hold in a groan.

Nekesa rolled her eyes and mouthed, Real boring.

Mr. Cleveland started reading word for word through the handbook. I pulled out a pencil and took notes—because what else was there to do. He went over the dress code (uniforms only), the payroll system, and employee benefits before we finally broke for lunch.

I’d never been happier to stand.

Everyone had a voucher to get a free meal in the food court, so Nekesa and I—and the rest of the monster-sized training group—started down a long and endless hallway that led to the Galaxy of Funstaurants.

I lowered my voice and said to Nekesa, “Maybe we should ditch now, before lunch.”

“What?”

I glanced over my shoulder. “It wouldn’t feel right to take the free lunch if we’re quitting.”

Nekesa looked at me like I’d just confessed to a squirrel obsession. “Quitting? What are you talking about? This place is totally bonkers.”

“Which is why I said what I said.”

“What is more hilarious than this place, Bay? I could work at a grocery store where customers yell at me because their coupon won’t work, or I could be a Protostar whose quarterly review involves learning a line dance. That, my friend, is gold and should be treated as such.”

It was such a Nekesa thing to say.

Sometimes best friends were like twins separated at birth. But Nekesa and I—not so much.

She was outgoing, hilarious, and always down for a good time. She sewed her own amazing clothes, she took ballroom dancing classes for fun, and she’d punched someone in the mouth once. She was like the heroine in a zombie movie who’d be wielding a stake and yelling, Come and get me, you zombie pussies!

I was… well, not that. I was perpetually trying to keep up with her. I’d be the girl too busy yelling Wait and flipping through the Zombie Rule Book to notice the zombie hovering behind me, about to eat my brain.

“Well, I’ve never even heard of the Bopper Shuffle.” I scratched my eyebrow and felt uneasy at the thought of working for a company whose core values were fun and belly laughing. “It is ludicrous that my potential pay increase should hinge upon cheesy choreography.”

“You’re just scared because you suck at dancing,” Nekesa teased, nudging my side with her elbow.

“It’s a ridiculous assessment!” I did suck at dancing—Nekesa said I was too repressed to enjoy it—but that didn’t change how absurd the assessment was.

“Nekesa?”

She and I both turned around, and a short-but-built guy with curly blond hair ran up beside her. I expected her to make a smart-ass comment because he was wearing a pinkie ring and a fake Rolex, but instead she squealed, “Oh my God—Theo!”

And she rarely squealed.

Her face lit up as she smiled at this stranger like she was genuinely happy to see him.

The dude, wearing a space suit that matched ours except for the purple R patch, smiled and said to Nekesa, “Let me guess—you’re a Protostar.”

“We both are.” She gestured to me, but neither of them actually looked at me as they started walking again and I followed. “What made you assume that?”

“Our trainer said Protostars are pretty much buzzkill know-it-alls,” he teased, “and that is like the actual description of Nekesa Tevitt.”

I opened my mouth to argue, because he’d described the opposite of Nekesa, but he added with a laugh, “Just kidding—they obviously have you on the wrong team.”

“Right?” She reached up and gathered her hair in her hands, like she was making a ponytail. “It’s the wrong team, but I’m glad because I want to be with Bailey.”

She gestured to me with her head, and once again, neither of them looked my way. She said, “I still can’t believe you’re here. When did you guys move back to Omaha?”

“Last summer. I go to Kennedy Prep.”

Ah, Kennedy Prep. So the Rolex might actually be real.

“How come I haven’t seen you at mass?” Nekesa let go of her hair, looked at me, and explained, “We used to be CCD buddies.”

I wasn’t Catholic, but a surprising number of my friends in Fairbanks had spent their elementary years going to those weekly classes at the church too. I didn’t even know what C-C-D stood for, but we’d never really been a church family either.

“We go to St. Patrick’s now.” He looked a little embarrassed and added, “It’s closer to our house.”

“Ooh—uptown,” she teased.

They shared a smile, and I wondered what their history was. CCD was way before I moved to Omaha, so I didn’t know Nekesa back then. But their vibe today felt a little flirty, which was weird because Nekesa was wildly in love with her boyfriend, Aaron.

I was probably reading it wrong.

I tuned out their catching-up chatter as I saw food approaching. I was starving but also mildly nervous about what kind of culinary offerings this place was going to have. Would an establishment whose core values were fun and belly laughing really care if their snacks were FDA approved?

“I heard there’s a hidden pub, just beyond the Galaxy of Funstaurants, that has better food than all the other places put together.”

I turned to my right, and there was Charlie. Where did he come from? I looked up at his face—damn, so tall—and was still torn between dreading the sight of him and finding a strange comfort in his presence.

It was a little unnerving, wondering when Mr. Nothing was going to show up and cancel out this Charlie. So I just said, “Really?”

He leaned in a little closer, his lips turning up into a slow smirk. “It’s designated as a kid-free zone, so they put it in a separate corridor. The DJ told the Red Giants about it in confidence, but since I’m now of the House of Proto, betrayal of the Red Giants is my duty.”

“Nekesa—did you hear that?” I nudged her with my elbow and turned to my left. “Bar food up ahead.”

Charlie muttered, “You left out the part about my dutiful bravery.”

“I know,” I replied, not looking back at him.

I heard him say “Ouch,” and it kind of made me want to laugh.

Nekesa glanced at me and then looked back at Theo. “Bar food up ahead.”Belongs to (N)ôvel/Drama.Org.

Theo shook his head. “Constellation Pizza has calzones in the shape of Saturn. Rumor has it the rings are made out of breadsticks. You cannot miss out on that, Nekesa.”

She looked back and me and Charlie. “You guys, come on. Planetary pizza? We have to do that shit.”

Charlie shoved his hands into the pockets of his flight suit and turned to face us, so he was walking backward. “I’m sticking with bar food—Saturn pizza is too nauseatingly cute for me. Feel free to join me, Bailey, if you’d rather have fries and amazing conversation than fuckshit pizza.”

Did he just invite me to join him for lunch?

And if yes, why? Why would he do that?

“I believe the first is possible,” I said breezily, even though my mind was turning, clueless of how to make sense of this version of Mr. Nothing. “But not so much the second.”

I really wanted bar food, but I wasn’t sure I wanted the company that came with it.

“Oh, come on—we can finish whining to each other about our nightmarish home lives.” Charlie turned back around and slowed his pace, so he was walking right beside me. He lowered his voice so he was just talking to me and said, “Vent together now so we don’t kill later.”

He didn’t look like he was messing with me. His eyes were on mine, but he looked like he was waiting for my answer—nothing more, nothing less. Was it possible he’d grown up?

I knew I’d probably regret it, but as I looked at Nekesa and Theo, deep in their conversation about people I’d never met, I sighed and said, “Fries it is.”