Page 2 of Stardusted
Ignoring her, I shifted my attention to the digital screen. Still no coconut shrimp or Hawaiian burger. I could practically feel my tips shrinking with every passing second.
Kelly hadn’t moved. Her stare hadn’t wavered. Pretending she wasn’t there didn’t work, either. I dragged my gaze away from the frazzled cooks and turned to my blonde nemesis.
“Fine,” I said, massaging my aching temple. “If you really want to talk about this, here’s how I know it’s not some giant conspiracy: Becausescience, Kelly. Science knows what a solar flare is. You’ve seen the footage. The actual satellite images of the sun, you know, flaring?”
She waved off my very reasonable explanation with a flick of her pink-tipped fingers. “That’s what they want you to think. That could all be computer-generated. A cover-up. AI can do crazy things.”
I was going to lose it. Right here in the kitchen.
I pinched the bridge of my nose and forced back a string of colorful curses that would’ve made the line cooks proud. “Who’s they, Kelly? You think every single news source and government agency is colluding in one giant lie?” When she opened her mouth, I held up a hand. “Don’t answer that.”
She gave a dramatic shrug.
“Let me get this straight,” I said, fixing her with an incredulous look. “The entire world is under alien attack, and their master plan is…disrupting our cell signals? Making us resend a few texts?” I snorted. “Yeah, you’re right. You can’t check your views on socials. It’s the apocalypse.”
“That’s the media talking,” Kelly replied primly. “You have to do your own research these days, Rae-bae.”
Lord help me. She was serious.
Before I could respond, Tony, one of the kitchen staff, piped up from her other side. “Don’t forget the power outages.” He’d finished slicing an onion and was now leaning on the prep table, wiping his watering eyes on his shoulder. And also apparently injecting himself into this conversation. “There were grid issues over in Logansport and a whole thing in New York. And that’s just in the States. I read on Spiral that it’s been happening in other countries, too.”
“What countries?” I demanded, glaring.
But,damn it,I had heard about that. The outages. Brief mentions on the news. I’d brushed them off because power outages happened all the time. Because electromagnetic interferencecoulddisrupt the grid…
Oh, no. They were sucking me in. Like a sensationalized whirlpool.
Well, I wasn’t jumping into that water. I was too smart for this.
“That’s just a coincidence, Tony,” I said, shaking my head. A dull ache pulsed at my temple. Work stress. School stress. This whole, stupid debate. “Logansport’s an hour from here, and New York is literally across the country. They’re not related.”
“The military base ishere, though, Rae-bae.” He sniffed, eyes still glistening with onion tears. “Maybe aliens are poking around for a long-lost spaceship the government’s hiding.”
“Do not call me that.” I sharpened my glare. “And nobody’s hiding a UFO at the base! It’s mostly shut down now anyway. My dad worked there.”
The pang was quick, stabbing. I shoved it aside. I was too deep in this ridiculous argument to pause for grief.
Was I the only sane one left in this restaurant?
“Yeah, and Roswell was a weather balloon,” Tony said, pointing the knife at me. “Don’t be such a sheep.”
My mouth dropped open. He didnotjust call me a sheep.
Before I could unleash a scathing retort about herd mentality, Jackie appeared on the other side of the ready line, their hands full of Kelly’s order. The tall, stocky lead cook slid the plates onto the warming shelf and sent me a solemn look. “They only tell us what they want us to know, Rae-bae. Remember that.”
No. Not Jackie, too. They werealwayson my side!
I stared, frozen mid-sentence. I was outnumbered. No way I was winning this one.
While Tony and Kelly exchanged triumphant grins, I closed my eyes. Maybe if I didn’t look directly at them, they’d forget about this stupid argument. A girl could wish.
Sighing, I rubbed my forehead.
My headache had been lingering since my bio-anthro lecture this morning, and the Tuesday night dinner rush wasn’t helping—nor was this absurd conspiracy-club conversation I’d stumbled into. If I hadn’t needed the cash to pay Bob rent, I’d have begged one of the other waitresses to take the rest of this closing shift.
But I didn’t have that luxury. Not with midterms coming and the study days I’d already planned to take off.
One more year. One more year before I earned that bachelor’s in basic anthropology. Then came the real fun: applications, scholarships, andhopefullya master’s in archaeology. And then?—
