Chiaroscuro

Chiaroscuro

Bianca Lynch

chiaroscuro (n.)

in art, the treatment of light and shadow to render the illusion of depth

Copyright 2018 © Bianca Lynch

Smashwords Edition

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Table of Contents

Chapter 01

Chapter 02

Chapter 03

Chapter 04

Chapter 05

Chapter 06

Chapter 07

Chapter 08

Chapter 09

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

note to the reader

fun facts

acknowledgements

about the author

{

We bury Javi under black rock. I bend down and let the dust sift through the pads of my fingers. The cemetery patrol officers start to crunch over, pale beams of flashlight puddling on the ground, and we fade.

Not a whit, we defy augury.

There is special providence in the fall of a sparrow.

}

P A R T 0 1

Eadlyn Finch

"And when the stars explode,

we’ll be fireproof."

—Troye Sivan

Chapter 01

"OUR TIME TOGETHER ends here, announced the tour guide, a thin girl with a halo of brown curls that seemed too heavy for her pixie-like face. She stopped in front of a coffee shop. Feel free to keep exploring campus. I hope you’ll all consider joining Stanford in the fall. It’ll be a pleasure to have you. Have a great day, everyone."

A collective murmur of thank yous rose from the small pack of students, who began to slowly disperse. I flipped open my wallet and thumbed through the pitiful remnants of my spending money. I could splurge on coffee today.

The coffee shop here was strangely similar and dissimilar to Lemons & Lattes, though I supposed anyplace would seem that way in comparison to the family-owned coffee store I had grown up in. The cool, spongy scent of post-rain earth and cacao beans filled the atmosphere. I stepped into line and waited.

After a few minutes, there remained only one customer in front of me. A lean, tall Stanford student. Unconsciously, I listened in to his conversation with the barista. Large Americano, he said.

He reached into his jeans pocket to pay. When he came up with nothing, he searched his other pocket.

Sorry, he told the barista. A moment, please.

Take your time.

I watched him pat down all of his pockets and noticed his unnatural calmness. His voice, his actions—they lacked the normal desperation of somebody who had discovered their wallet missing. He moved methodically, with careful precision. A Stanford messenger bag hung from his shoulder.

Finally, the boy relented. I forgot my wallet. Sorry for your time.

The barista smiled gently. Come back la—

It was an impulse that I really should’ve ignored, but I didn’t. On a sudden bout of recklessness, I blurted out, I’ll pay for him.

I stepped up beside him and slid a few bills onto the counter.

That’s awfully nice of you, said the barista, neatly filing the money away. He drew a handful of change out and dropped it into my hand. The coins slid soundlessly into my now empty wallet. I can take your order, too, since you two are paying together.

Havana latte, please, I said. And my name is Eadlyn.

The barista scribbled my name on a plastic cup. And yours? he asked the boy, who I had hardly looked at yet.

After a moment of pause, he said, James.

Nodding, the barista wrote his name on a different cup. When he finished, he flashed the two of us a bright smile. Have a great day, guys.

Thank you, I said. The boy—presumably James—and I both moved away from the line. As I headed toward the pick-up counter, a firm hand latched around my wrist.

I turned to find a boy about my age staring at me. Who are— I began, but my eye caught on the Stanford pine tree embellished on the black messenger bag on his right shoulder. He released my wrist. Oh. James, right?

I glanced up.

He was all angles. There was a smattering of light freckles across the bridge of his nose. Dark eyes stared out from under black lashes.

He fixed me with a cold, detached look. Why did you do that?

Taken aback by his abrupt change in tone, I said, What?

Why’d you pay?

Because you look like you need it. I instantly realized that this was the wrong thing to say.

I don’t want your pity. His expression was terrifyingly blank.

Listen, you’re a college student, right? I took his silence as confirmation. It’s finals season. It’s the least I could do. It’s not pity, it’s sympathy.

Do I look like I need your help?

Well, I said, after a pregnant pause, I—

Just because I’m on scholarship here doesn’t mean I’m a charity case.

You’re on scholarship? I echoed.

You don’t know who I am?

I eyed him carefully. No. Am I supposed to?

You must be new this fall.

Americano for James, called a barista. The nearly black drink was slid across the counter, ice cubes bobbing along its surface.

James picked it up and, without breaking eye contact with me, positioned the coffee over the trash can with maddening grace. I considered him with even more disbelief now (which was partially becoming anger), and I guess it must have showed on my face, because he narrowed his eyes and dropped the whole thing in.

I blinked, all thoughts of who-is-this-enigmatic-Stanford-student swirling down the drain. Excuse me? I just bought you coffee, I said, anger beginning to creep into my voice, and you throw it away?

I don’t want coffee, he said.

Clearly you do, or you wouldn’t be standing in a coffee shop.

Allow me to rephrase, he said, his voice still quiet and cold. I don’t want your coffee.

That’s not an excuse. You could’ve just given it to someone in the shop, or someone on the street.

A disdainful edge crept into his scoff. Don’t tell me what to do.

You come in here, waste a perfectly good cup of coffee, waste my last five dollars, and then scold me about it? I snapped. Why are you so mad, anyway? If anyone gets to be angry, it’s me.

I told you that I didn’t want your charity, he said darkly by way of explanation, his hooded eyes now burning. Why is he so worked up about this?

What is your problem?

But I was talking to nobody. James had already brushed past me; the coffee shop door shut quietly behind him.

Havana latte for Emilia!

Another variation of the numerous ridiculous ways coffee shops spelled my name. I picked it up, stabbed it forcefully with a straw, and sipped it angrily as I left the shop and got into the battered car I shared with my siblings. When you make six figures a year, I guess you can buy the right to be rude, huh?

The radio blared a staticky pop song. Gripping the battered steering wheel, I steered the car into the lane, wincing when a black SUV veered dangerously close. Liam and I shared this car, and my brother would strangle me if I got a scratch on it.

My phone began to ring.

I ignored it. Whoever it was would have to wait until I got off the car.

Finally, the ringtone fell silent. Not two seconds later, it began to blare again.

On the fifth time that my phone rang, I pulled over and . Hi.

Eadlyn?

Alyssa?

Eadlyn, repeated my younger sister, and her voice shook violently. Eadlyn, I need your help.

Alyssa, what happened?

She suddenly coughed, and there was an unmistakable tremor in it. I need your help—listen—I—he’s—

Alyssa, calm down. Take a deep breath.

Alyssa sucked in a large breath. I need you to do me a favor. I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, she said quickly. I need your help.

What happened?

I just need you to take my shift at Lemons and Lattes right now. I just—I can’t right now, something just came up and I’ll tell you later but— Alyssa inhaled sharply again.

Hey, I said. Don’t worry about it. I’ll take your shift. You take care of yourself, okay?

Thank you so much, Alyssa breathed out, and the line went dead.

I wondered what had suddenly come upon her and resolved to give her time. Alyssa’d tell me when she was ready. She rarely ever broke down like that.

I checked my watch. Alyssa’s shift began in five minutes. If I was heading to Lemons and Lattes—the family coffee shop—now, it was a minimum ten minute drive. I’d have to go faster. I glanced around surreptitiously. No police cars.

I spun the wheel, and the car cruised right past a stop sign. Flinching, I scrabbled to slow down, but it was no use. I had careened past it.

The high-pitched whine of a siren began to sound from behind me.

I sighed and slowly pulled over. Moments later, a police officer appeared by my window.

Driver’s license? he said gruffly.

I rifled around in my bag. Nothing.

I peered suspiciously in and realized that my entire wallet was missing. How could I be missing it? I had just paid for two coffees with it. Who was standing close enough to me to take it?

Sir, I said to the police officer, I’d like to report a missing wallet. I think I know who took it.

Around six foot, in a grey jacket, I said, pressing the phone to my ear. Had a Stanford messenger bag. He’s probably enrolled there.

Thanks for letting Officer Dunwen know when he pulled you over for speeding, came the police officer’s staticky voice. We’ll let you know if we find anything.

Thank you, officer, I said. I really need my wallet back.

We’ll get it back to you soon, he said, and the line disconnected. I sighed and leaned back in my chair, no longer able to concentrate on math homework. My entire wallet was missing—including my ID, credit card, and driver’s license—and calculus wasn’t exactly that intriguing in the first place. It was lucky that I had my phone in my jacket when the robbery happened. I texted Charlotte an update on the situation.

Eadlyn, can you come out here?

Yeah, what happened? I called, getting out of my seat and heading toward the living room. Is something wrong, Mom?

I emerged in the living room and was greeted by an ear-to-ear grin. Oh, amazing news, Eadlyn, gushed Mom, grabbing my hands.

Yeah?

Your brother’s back.

Liam? I said. I thought he was at lacrosse practice. I craned my neck and found everybody standing in a circle. Are we about to perform some satanic ritual?

No. Your older brother Kieran’s back, crooned Mom, stepping aside to guide me into the circle.

I glanced around Mom and realized that there was an all-too-familiar face. Kieran Finch stood imposingly in the center. Even after a year, he hadn’t changed. He sported a teal polo and khakis, pristine brown hair, and when he smiled, he looked like politics and thousands of dollars’ worth of dental insurance.

You guys even took the liberty to find a sacrifice, I said.

Eadlyn, Mom warned.

I'm just kidding, Mom, I said lightly, placing a hand on her shoulder. When she turned away, my smile melted.

Alyssa must have found out earlier. She stood to the side, her arms folded tightly across her chest. Translucent fear plinked drops of milky white onto her cheeks.

Hey, Lynn. Kieran grinned, the picture of a Californian native.

Unconsciously, an urge came upon me to take a step backward. A cold shiver glossed down my spine. Kieran’s smile had always been unnervingly symmetrical.

Dad clapped him on the shoulder. Kieran's back, for good. He decided that his East Coast college wasn’t fit for him.

I suppressed the coldness that had begun to raise goosebumps on my flesh and gathered my wits. You mean he dropped out because he couldn't handle the pressure? I said coolly.

Eadlyn! Mom hissed furiously. Her eyes flashed at me. Your brother's just had a very long plane ride.

Sorry, I said, making sure that I sounded as unapologetic as possible.

Eadlyn. Dad articulated my name coldly. We are going to have a talk about this later. Sass from Liam, I could excuse. He's only sixteen. But you're eighteen—you're going to college in a few months. I expected far more maturity from you.

Oh, don't worry, Dad. She didn't mean it. Kieran laughed and waved his hand, and thus appeared the image of the angelic Kieran Finch that the majority of New Santiago idolized, with his bright eyes and dark locks. A face that could've belonged to Julius Caesar himself, I remember his kindergarten teacher saying. Eadlyn's just joking. Right, Lynn?

Yeah. We're practically joined at the hip, I said, tempering my sickeningly sweet undertone so that it would be undetectable to my parents but not to my siblings. Mom and Dad were somewhat subdued by my confession.

Kieran shot me a grin so large that it almost bordered on psychotic. There was nothing in his face that would've betrayed his anger, but I had known him long enough to know otherwise.

So what college are you going to now? I raised my eyebrow at my older brother. Or are you going to become a drop-out? If that's the case, then I guess the ritual is a go after all.

My college was too far from home, so that's why I decided to switch. I'm transferring to somewhere closer to New Santiago. I'm starting my junior year there in the fall, said Kieran. I'll be seeing you on campus, Eadlyn.

Great, I said. Look, no hard feelings, Kieran, but I have to go now. I’ll see you later. I left before Mom and Dad could drag me back. Alyssa had slipped out the door while my parents were staring angrily at me.

The door clicked open, and I didn't have to look up to know who it was. He walked in and sat on my bed silently, opposite from where I sat with my AP government papers fanned out around me.

Eadlyn, he said, his voice dangerously quiet. What did I tell you about talking to me like that in front of Mom and Dad?

This had happened so many times that I no longer felt the jump of surprise at Kieran's sudden transition from honey tongue to Vitriol.

We've talked about this before, Eadlyn, Kieran said smoothly. My scalp burned; our faces were inches apart. Don't humiliate me like that in front of other people.

I wrenched his arm away, and his vice-like grip finally uncurled from around my hair. Don't tell me what to do. You haven't changed a single bit since you left for the East Coast.

Kieran smirked, his anger momentarily vaporizing. I can't believe that you, Liam and Alyssa believed me. That last day when I apologized and told you I didn’t mean any of it.

None of us have recovered, I said. You’re a cruel man. I hear Alyssa crying at night because of what you did to her. Liam hasn’t forgiven you, either. You destroyed us each.

Tell me something I don’t know.

He closed the door before I could lob my AP government textbook at his head.

How’d the interview go? I said, falling into step beside Charlotte. We turned the corner, heading toward the neon-colored burger joint at the end of the block.

Charlotte grimaced. Not well. He asked me if I had any past experience, and I froze up.

I’m sure you’ll still get the internship, I said. You’re probably the most qualified out of all of the others there, Charlotte. You were a semifinalist for the Intel award.

I hope my qualifications will be able to scrape me by, Charlotte said glumly.

I looped an arm around her shoulder and grinned. Hey, come on. If you don’t get this internship, it’s not the end of the world. Let’s have some smoothies and share a burger.

My phone began to ring. Retracting my arm, I answered the phone.

Hello?

Miss Finch? It was the police officer from before. We may have found a suspect who matches your description.

Who is it?

His name is James Ferrias, said the officer. We have him in custody if you’d like to come meet him.

I glanced down the block. A few buildings past the burger joint was the New Santiago Police Department, a foreboding amalgam of cold grey stone. Coincidentally, I’m in the area, I said. I’ll be right there.

The line went dead. Listen, I’m really sorry, Charlotte, I said, but they found the guy who took my wallet. I’ll meet you at the burger place in half an hour, alright?

Want me to come with you? she offered.

I shook my head. Thanks for the offer, but it’s fine.

Good luck, Eadlyn.

Thanks. I waved to Charlotte and strode down the block, quickening my pace every time I heard a sound. At least this place wasn’t as eerily skeletal as the Reds, the slums of the city. People trickled in and out of shops and apartments.

I reached the police department, and an officer brought me upstairs to an interrogation room. I waited outside, watching from the one-way glass. Inside the room sat a blue-uniformed police officer and a boy in a grey jacket.

He looked tired. Shadows cut across his face and plunged into his neckline. I remembered him clearly from the coffee shop earlier.

You want to make a last-minute case for yourself, son? the police officer said gruffly.

No, the boy said coolly.

The officer sighed and leaned forward. Look. You’re not a bad kid. You’re on scholarship at an Ivy League college. Your record is clean. Why’d you do it?

James was silent.

Finally, he spoke. Officer, do you know who los Lobos are?

That gang in the Reds, fancy ‘emselves ‘the Bones’ in Spanish, said the officer. Yeah, I know. Got a couple of ‘em in custody right now.

The Reds was the name for the slums of New Santiago, a dark tributary of broken glass and gunshots that snaked through the south side. Originally a red-light district—or a haven of prostitution, strip clubs, and hedonistic pursuits—it eventually became a breeding nest for illegal activity, and the nickname was shortened from ‘red-light district’ to just ‘the Reds’. Wealthy people from North New Santiago considered it a taboo, and people from Central New Santiago like me toed the line.

My mother and I live in the very heart of the Reds, and los Lobos like to recruit around there, said James softly. They wanted me to join them.

And what did you say? said the officer.

I said no, but los Lobos can be very persuasive—and they also get angry when you do something they don’t like. My mother tried to defend me, and they shot her in the stomach, said James. As we speak, my mom is bleeding out on our little cot in the Reds because we can’t afford hospital treatment.

Why did you leave her side to go buy coffee? said the officer.

I wanted to steal some money to pay for her medicine. Indict me if you want, but let me funnel money to my mother first.

I let out a breath and spoke into the intercom. I’m not pressing charges. Let him go.

The heat was oppressive and muggy, thickly coiling around the back of my neck. I quickly went up the crumbling brick steps and arrived at the door. Seven-oh-eight Oaks Avenue, the Reds. Cobwebs clung insistently to the rusted doorbell.

I knocked on the door.

A few moments later, footsteps pattered toward me, and the door creaked open on ancient hinges. James locked eyes with me.

What do you want? he said coldly.

I want my wallet back.

Why? A pretty rich girl like you should be able to buy a new one with no problem, he said venomously.

Excuse me? I snapped. You don’t know anything about me, James Ferrias.

I know that you’re eighteen and you’re attending my college in the fall, he said. If you can afford to go there, then you’re not poor.

The same goes for you, I said.

I’m on scholarship.

And I’m working day and night to get a head-start on the mountains and mountains of student loans I have to pay off, I hissed. Don’t talk to me like you know me.

His jaw worked silently, and then he disappeared into the cluttered fray of his house. He reappeared holding my wallet. It was unzipped.

Did you take anything? I muttered, peering into it.

No, he said. His voice was pure ice. You can check if you don’t believe me.

I sighed and slipped it into my pocket.

Before I turned to go, I said, softening slightly, By the way, you should know. I’m sorry about your mother. I wish I could help.

James’ features hardened, mouth twisting into stone. You should know something, too.

What?

A boy like me will tell any tall tale to the police to get out of jail, he hissed softly. Don’t come back to the Reds.

He shut the door.

Chapter 02

MOM, I’M LEAVING, I yelled, headed toward the door of the house. I'm going downtown with Charlotte.

Mom appeared in the living room entrance a few minutes later, her mouth pulled taut in a papery red line. No. Kieran's home, so we're celebrating tonight by eating out. We're leaving soon.

Can't I go out for half an hour and return quickly?

Mom's frown deepened. You're grounded for talking to Kieran like that. He's just had an incredibly tough year in college, and the poor boy misses his family.

Okay, I said, trying to suppress my frustration. Mom would only extend my grounding if I showed her sass right now. I'd have to reschedule with Charlotte. Then can I at least go to the drugstore on the corner and buy some caffeine pills? I ran out yesterday.

Fine.

Yes. Thank you.

But have Kieran accompany you.

What? I'd rather launch myself into a geyser than willingly spend time with him.

If you want to go, you're going with Kieran. Mom fixed me with an iron stare. He'll make sure you stay in line.

I need caffeine pills, Mom.

And neither I nor Kieran are going to stop you from getting them. So either you go with your brother, or you don't go at all.

I scowled inwardly and complied, texting Kieran to meet me outside. I waited on the porch for a few minutes before he appeared. I knew you wanted to spend time with me, he said.

I made a noise of contempt.

Don't be rude, Eadlyn. It's not an attractive look on you.

I stopped walking to fix Kieran with a stare. Are you stupid?

What?

I'm sorry. That was rude of me to phrase it as a question, I said, resuming my walk forward. You are stupid.

Kieran's mouth stretched into that terrifying smile again, his lips chapped and tinted ochre from the patchwork light perforating the clouds. Excuse me?

You think that now since you've come back, you've regained your uncontested predatory dominance in the house. You think you can lash out at us as you please. Liam really liked that girl, and you destroyed him, and when you were angry last November, you decimated Alyssa, too.

Much to my chagrin, Kieran remained entirely unfazed.

You don't get it, Eadlyn. Kieran shook his head in exasperation. No matter how many times I explain it to you. I'll say it again. This is for the best of them.

Kieran, you have problems.

My brother cut me off. We're on the same side, Eadlyn. We're the best Finches—the smartest, the fastest. We're destined for greatness.

The sheer amount of times I've heard you utter those words is messed up.

You and I both know I'm right, Kieran said.

I shoved Kieran in the shoulder, and he staggered backward. He caught himself at the last moment.

Slowly, he said, You're lucky that I like you, Eadlyn. The time Alyssa did that, I wasn’t so forgiving.

Like you did the November before you left, when you couldn't handle the alcohol and you broke three of her ribs and her face and ruptured half of her organs? And Alyssa had to go to the ER?

Alyssa wasn’t going to die, said Kieran glibly, and that was the only time I ever did something to Alyssa. She’s quiet—and weak. I hardly ever touched her.

And Charlie Stilinski from school had to take the blame, because our parents wouldn't believe Liam and me, I seethed.

It's not my fault that our parents are so gullible.

I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that, and I'm going to walk into this drugstore, I said, gripping the door handle, and I'm going to purchase my caffeine pills, and you are going to stand here and shut up, okay? I narrowed my eyes. Or is that too difficult for poor, pitiable, grieving-hero Kieran to handle?

I'm coming with you. After all, I'm your chaperone.

I scoffed. You think I'm going to run away with my friends while I'm inside the store? Magically portal myself over to downtown New Santiago? Who do you think I am, Harry Potter?

Kieran only laughed brightly and held the door open for me, the perfect picture of a gentleman. I wrenched the door from his grasp, stepped through, and then pushed it so it slammed Kieran in the forehead with a dulled thud. When Kieran recovered, I smiled sweetly and entered the pharmacy.

Upon discovery that the caffeine pills were not in their usual place, I began searching for them. Hunting for the little blue bottles was like searching for a needle in an entire barn of haystacks. As I bent over, examining the pinky-sized orange vials lined up on the bottom shelf, I felt a hand tap my shoulder.

Kieran just didn't know when to give up, did he? Glaring, I whipped around, my eyes scrunched shut in frustration, and enunciated, Go screw yourself, you persistent little—

Silence. No cold comeback like I knew Kieran would've instantly spouted.

I opened my eyes, and I was staring at James, sporting a black jacket and a scarlet, still-fresh cut on his cheek. Closer inspection revealed a white Prozac container gripped in his hand.

What are you doing here? I said on knee-jerk reaction.

What does it look like I'm doing? he said, expression unnervingly hard.

I set my jaw. Can I help you?

I wanted to pay you back, said James. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but a few dollars are missing from your wallet. I spent them on food.

Maybe his mother wasn’t bleeding out, but anyone who lives in the Reds must have some sort of terrible life.

His eyes darkened when he noticed my gaze. Just take the money, he snapped and shoved the bills into my hand. Stop looking at me like I’m a charity case. I’m not doing this out of kindness. I'm doing it out of obligation. I'm going to be clear about this: I hate you. Raw fury glittered in his eyes.

What? I stared back at him, surprised by his outburst. Why? What do you have against me?

He turned to stare at me through eyes framed by dark lashes. Instead of responding to my question, he said, Can you hand me that purple container behind you?

Oh. Yeah, sure, I said, still wary of his gaze. I gave him the container and stuffed the five dollar bill into my pocket.

Eadlyn, I know our family isn't rich, but you didn't have to stoop to such low methods, came Kieran's low voice. I turned to see Kieran eyeing the situation with extreme disapproval. A faint purple smudge was swelling on his forehead.

What are you talking about? I arched an eyebrow and turned toward my brother.

Drugs? Really? Kieran narrowed his eyes at me. Honestly, that explains your erratic behavior. And don't even try to deny it. I saw the whole exchange. He handed you five dollars, and you gave him a container of pills.

I burst out laughing.

If anyone's on drugs here, said James to Kieran, it's you.

According to my comically enthusiastic parents, Kieran's return was something so glorious it was deserving of dinner at a high-end, five-star French restaurant. A few minutes ago, I had radically opposed the notion of Kieran deserving anything good in the world, but when Mom threatened my car privileges, I shut up.

My dad's college roommate, now the CEO of a successful engineering company, was coincidentally in town, and he was also joining us for dinner tonight. According to my dad, he was also bringing his son. I hadn't been aware of this latest installment until half an hour ago.

Dad, how come your CEO friend isn't here yet? Liam said. Seated around a round, vanilla-colored table exhibiting only a Post-it-sized platter of appetizer, the six of us sat and stewed in the citrus perfume that was spritzed into the air on an hourly basis. Combined with the muggy pre-summer heat, the smell hung aggressively sweetly in the air. Can't we start eating without him?

He should be here soon, said Dad. He's probably held up by a meeting. Richard's a busy man.

Can I get some fresh air? This citrus-y scent is starting to get on my nerves, I said.

Yeah, sure, said Mom. Just be back soon.

I left the room and walked out of the restaurant. Breathing in the fresh air, I stood beside the entrance for a moment. When I I pivoted to return to the restaurant, I was just in time to see a familiar figure heading toward the door.

James, I said. He stopped and turned, momentarily surprised by my presence. What are you doing here? Are you stalking me?

Not everything revolves around you. He scowled fiercely, seemingly irritated by my question. I don't see how that concerns you.

This is the second time I've seen you today, I mused. What a coincidence.

He narrowed his eyes. If you can afford to eat at La Vie D'or, then how come you're allegedly 'poor'?

I could say the same for you.

His face changed. You need to leave.

I can’t just leave. My family’s because we're celebrating a 'special occasion' which honestly doesn't deserve a celebration at all. I moved to enter the restaurant along with James.

He paused and said, Are you following me?

What?

He gestured to our surroundings; we were walking in the same direction in the restaurant. "Unless you're actually a waitress at La Vie D'or—which would explain why you're