Breakdance, Not Hearts - Part 1

Strawberry frappucino!” I yell back to my sister Nicole. Seconds later I hear the familiar whirrr of the blender and watch the standard bubble-gum pink blobs appear in my field of vision.

I'm not exactly a waitress, I'm just an order-taker at Cafe Mocha. Nicole works here, and a few days ago she invited me to come help out. I figured I might as well, because I'm always low on cash. Together, we conquer every order. I stand around behind the dusty-light-brown marbletop counter, greet people, and process their requests over to Nicole. Nicole's always ducked behind some machine in the back (the kitchen, I guess you could say, even though it's not exactly cooking), so I have to shout over my shoulder.

Now, it's my fifth day working part-time after school. I'd bail out of eighth grade if I wasn't so determined to be an artist. Seriously, our art teacher is amazing. But standard subjects just aren't that fab. I'm positive that I have failed math for my entire life. That's why I let Nicole count up money and handle tax.

My feet begin to ache from standing up for so long, and I long for a stool. Instead, however, I distract myself from these pessimistic thoughts and glance up at the clock on the pistachio-colored wall behind me. It greets me with the tiny, bright-marine-blue dots of the tick, tock, tick, tock. I do hate math, but looking at clocks always seems to entertain me. Every number is printed in black, but inside of my head, I see each one in color. For example, one is a shiny-aluminum-silver, and three is light pink with a hint of yellow. I see colors in alot of things. When I read something in black and white, my colors take over and turn the page into a rainbow. When I hear sounds, colors in specific shapes appear, seemingly, in front of me and the area where the sound came from, before fading quickly. Sometimes I even see colors when I feel something. I love running my fingers over soft, soft carpet due to the ocean blue haze that sweeps over everything.

Of course, I really shouldn't go on daydreaming about my colors. I mean, everyone has them, right? It's not like any of us could stand not seeing mahogany puffs pop out every time a door slammed. And names would be so much flatter; drier, if they didn't have specific colors and textures to them. I shudder at the thought of a non-colorful world. You'd hate it too, wouldn't you?

I snap out of my daze as I notice that a boy who looks around fourteen – my age – is standing directly in front of me, seperated only by the counter. He's staring at me with big brown eyes. They seem to be clouded over. Oops. I was probably daydreaming...again...while he had been standing and waiting.

“Hi,” I say brightly, as if to make up for this. I pause before adding quickly, “Sorry, were you waiting long?”

He nods slowly, not saying a word, his eyes fixated on me. Eerie. Obviously he's already judged me as a space-out.

Clearing up the awkward silence, I say quietly, “Um...so...would you like to order?” I force out an optimisitic tone, knowing full well his eyes are still searching me. It's kind of creepy, actually.

“Yeah,” he says, and I'm surprised that his tone is quite normal. “Can I have a double mocha latte? Small,” he decides. I nod and smile brightly. “Double mocha...!” I shout to Nicole. I hear a distant “What?” as her reply, muffled by the sea-green metal door. I repeat the order.

He's still standing there. The nameless boy. And unfortunately, still studying me. “You can...you know...sit down if you want,” I offer feebly, steadily becoming more and more scared as he continues to look at me.

“Oh. Ah, no thanks. I'm fine,” he replies. If only he would talk more often. His voice is definately more comforting than his eyes.

Finally I can't stand it. “Um...why are you star-” I begin to blurt anxiously. At the same time, however, he interjects. “Have I seen you before?” he asks. Ah. Would that be the reason for the staring?

I shrug. I definately haven't seen him. “I don't think so,” I say shyly. “How old are you?” I add.

“Fourteen. Wait,” he pauses. “Do you by any chance go to Natura?” Yes, that's my school! “Yeah,” I exclaim eagerly. “So you do too? How come I've never seen you before?” He seems to shrink back in alarm at my sudden change of tone.

“I guess we hang out with different crowds,” he says slowly.

Just then, Nicole bursts out of the door. The screeeak creates a rust-colored streak in the air. Nicole's a little red-faced, and her dark brown hair has finally dared to be a few strands out of place beneath her Cafe Mocha visor. Both of her hands are clutching double mochas.

“Hi,” she greets the customer-slash-starer. “Double mocha latte?” She sticks out one of her hands acrossed the counter. The boy smiles and takes it. I wonder what the other latte is for. As I point this out to Nicole, she smiles and shrugs, flipping her long hair over her shoulder and almost whacking me in the face. “Myself. I already paid Cerise,” she replies, refferring to her (and now our) boss.

“Ah...” I say, pretending to be interested by this information.

“Whelp, I have to go melt some more chocolate,” Nicole announces, dissapearing once more. Her wall of shiny hair swings behind her. I sigh. Her hair is so oddly hypnotizing. Everyone notices it. I see nameless boy still staring at the door she dissapeared behind, obviously in deep thought, clutching his double mocha latte in his right hand.

After a few seconds, though, he smiles a cautious smile and turns away quickly, aiming for a small table by the window. “Wait!” I hear myself say. “What's your name?” I can't stand not knowing people's names, because it means I don't get to see its color.

He stops and looks at me, slightly apprehensively. “Ryan,” he says with a trace of doubt in his voice, as if he's afraid I'd murder him or something. But as soon as I hear his name, the rainbow of colors almost knocks me off my feet.

The R is turquoise with a dash of cherry red, the Y is yellow-ish green like an apple, the A is bright red. The N adds a splash of silvery-blue, sort of mysterious. All together, the name is overwhelmingly bright and has a smooth texture. I also see hints of aubergine surrounding each letter so it glows.

This both scares me and amazes me.

Never, ever in my whole life have I ever seen a name so bright and colorful. And never has a name had an aubergine glow around it. I guess my surprise showed in my face, because Ryan raises his eyebrows and looks at me as if aliens had abducted my brain. “You okay?” he asks.

“Yeah...” I say breathlessly. “Yeah, I'm fine.” The colors are still flashing in front of my eyes. I watch as Ryan casts me one final, strange look and walks over to the table.

Ryan's POV.

I am beyond thirsty.

Longing for something sweet, I push open the door to Cafe Mocha, hoping I won't be too late for band practice with my friend Spencer. Actually, it's not really a band. He plays drums and I handle the guitar and singing, but sadly we haven't written any of our own songs yet.

I walk up to the counter. I come here all the time, even though I know Spencer would ridicule me if he ever knew I secretly like this cafe. I'm surprised to find that today, however, a new face is at the counter. A girl with short, light orange hair is standing there, staring off into the distance. Apparently she doesn't notice me, which kind of weirds me out. I cast her another glance but don't dare to say anything. She has green eyes that, for the moment, seem glazed over. She looks like she might be around my age. Probably older, though. Then again, her rosy cheeks bring youth to her face.

And I feel like I've seen her...somewhere.

Reeling through the back of my head, I decide on school, but am not exactly sure. This girl seems extremely strange to me. If she really does go to Natura Junior High, how come I don't know her? And why hasn't she noticed me yet?! Because I want a double mocha. Now.

As if she read my thoughts, she snaps back into reality. That's freaky. Like, as soon as I wanted a double mocha latte, she mysteriously delved into my mind or...or something.

“Hi!” she says peppily. Whoa. Too optimisitic for someone who was daydreaming just a second ago. Her whole face seems to light up now, and I definately remember her or someone like her ambling around the lunchroom. “Sorry, were you waiting long?” she adds, a little bit softer but still ridiculously enthusiastically.

I nod slowly. This is one weird girl. I continue to study her. Her short hair frames her smiling face. A smiling face I might have seen, but...I try to decide whether or not to bring up this point.

“Um...so...” she begins, and at least her voice is a bit less enthusiastic this time, “Would you like to order?”

“Yeah.” I tell her about the latte, and she turns her head and yells it backwards over her shoulder. I guess she's coworking with someone else, then. That would explain why I haven't seen her here before.

“You can...you know...sit down if you want,” the girl says. I'm still trying to make up my mind as to where or if I've seen her before.

“Oh. Ah, no thanks. I'm fine,” I say, continuing to scrutinize her. Then I blurt it out before I can stop myself. “Have I seen you before?” I ask apprehensively. She's just so...strange, and if she really does go to my school...

“I don't think so,” she says, as all traces of optimism seem to vanish. Until she returns them when she asks me brightly, “How old are you?” Like that has something to do with anything. Reluctantly, I reply, felling stranger by the minute. Why is she so happy? It's seriously creepy.

I try to ignore this realization and ask her if she goes to Natura. Her reply makes me uneasy, as she cries dramatically, “Yes!” As in, Yes! Aren't you just overflowing in a volcano of JOY!? Um, no. Not really. Then she asks me what I wanted to ask her. Why haven't we seen each other before?

I shrug. I long for my mocha and to sit down instead of talking to this girl. “I...guess we hang out with different crowds,” I answer tentatively.

Finally, the door bursts open and the usual worker emerges with two double mochas. I sigh with relief. This is the girl I'm used to seeing. The beautiful girl with the shiny, dark hair and olive skin...not some freaky optimist. She hands the mocha to me with a smile and the happy-joy girl turns to say something to her, but I tune them out and just stare at the tall, dark-haired girl. Okay, yes, I see her all the time, and yes, she's like 5 years older than me, but her beauty just leaves me in awe.

Spencer would totally laugh at me if he knew I had a crush on a waitress.

I watch as she dissapears behind the door once more. Great. She used to be the one standing behind the counter, and now, this bubbly girl with the green eyes has replaced her. I turn away, making for the nearest table.

And then I'm stopped. “Wait! What's your name?” says the girl. Her rosy face is for once wearing a look of anxiety instead of jubilation. Apprehensively, I answer. “Ryan.” I don't bother to state my last name. I watch as her expression becomes shocked and I shiver. Ugh, she is so strange. I she going to curse me using my name or something? Her eyes are staring at me unseeingly, which is really offputting. It looks like she's gone into yet another daze.

And then I say, “You okay?” without really realizing it. Wait, why would I care? This girl is beyond crazy. Crap. I blush as I realize what I just asked, not meeting her green eyes.

“Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine,” she says, but I'm not so sure.