The Zig – Part 1

It is 6:00 a.m. when my alarm goes off, and I remember how much I dislike getting up in the morning. Laying my clothes out the night before usually helps, but today I have to search through my closet to look for something that I haven’t worn before. I would never be forgiven by my friends if they ever saw me wearing the same thing twice. Though it is exhausting to be friends with them, I don’t feel like I have anyone else.

I rummage through my closet and find a new blouse that I have just gotten a few days ago. It has long bell sleeves that are longer than my hand, and made of lace. The top is flowing along my midsection and stops just below my light wash denim jean pockets. I put on a pair of tan lace up wedges and I walk over to look at myself in the full-length mirror that is leaning up against my bright pink wall.


Walking into The Zig, a local coffee shop, I scrolled through all of my social media for the first time today. I wait in the line that is always out the door, but is better than going somewhere else. It’s worth it to be late to school for this. The Zig has the best coffee on the whole island of Martha’s Vineyard, and is one of the coolest places to go. 

A portion of it is an open coffee bar right on the beach. You order at a large window and you can watch them make your drink, or just stand by the water and wait for your name. The floor – instead of brick or wood – was bare sand that opened up to the ocean, a couple of yards away.

There are picnic tables where people can sit and drink their drinks and eat baked goods. This section is open 24 hours a day, so high schoolers trying to pull all nighters can work on their caffeine high. 

The indoor portion is a little different. It’s a little less beachy with more space for sitting down at tables where you can have meetings and things like that. I go into the indoor portion before school. It is usually less busy in the morning because everyone wants to go to the outside section, and yet there still is a line out the door. There are more people working at the registers and espresso machines to make it go by quicker, and I move closer and closer to the register.

“I can help who’s next,” yells the barista. I move up to the register. “What can I get for you?” she says, overly nice with a large smile.

“May I please have a large iced caramel latte with almond milk?” I ask, grabbing a five-dollar bill and throwing it out on the counter.

“Of course,” She says, a little less sickly sweet, as she takes a minute to put the order into the machine and then picks up the five. “Your change is fifty-five cents. And your order number is 1043.” She circles the number with a sparkly pink pen that is sitting next to the register and hands me the receipt. I thank her and go to sit down at the closest table.

Before I have a chance to react, someone looking at their phone, barrels into me spilling coffee onto my new, white blouse. I fall backwards onto the floor. My phone, that was in my right hand, skidded across the floor. Everything in my dark brown, leather purse was spilled onto the floor.

“Oh, shoot!” The man yelled. A few people glance down at us, others bend down and start to pick up my things, dry them off with napkins and put them back in my bag. “Let me help you up! Can someone get more napkins?!” He held out his hands to help me up, and gratefully I took them. He pulls me up a little too fast and I fall into him a little bit. He laughs as I blush awkwardly.

The guy, who I don’t know, bends over to help pick up my bag, but the others stand up so it is just him. There were pens, change and old visa gift cards all over the floor. Someone brings me a few napkins, a few of them wet, so I can try to get the stain out. I accept them with a thank you, but I quickly give up and help the man pick up my things, though I really do not want anyone touching my things.

“I’m going to be so late for school! And now I have to go home and change!” I mumble. He hands me back my bag.

“I’m sorry! I’ll buy you a new shirt, we can go now!” He said, very apologetically. He takes the napkin out of my hand and tries to get the stain out of my shirt.

I take a quick step back. “I don’t even know your name, so what makes you think you can touch me? And you expect me to go with you just so you can buy me clothing? I normally enjoy a good shopping spree, but not with you.” I laugh in annoyance. I start to walk up to the counter.

“Wait! My name is Rob, where are you going?” He starts following me.

I look at the person at the counter.  “When is my latte going to be ready?” The more he tries to talk, the more annoyed I get.

She puts a drink on the counter, “This is order number 1043, is that you?”          

I grab the drink, “Yes, it is. Thank you.” I look over at Rob, “Please just leave me alone.”

“There is a t-shirt store right next door,” he says. He looks surprised when I turn to the door and walk out, latte in hand. He walks after me.

I have to look at the signs to see where to go. The entrance is two doors down. I walked past the closest door. It is an exit, the sign on the door read.



Keep walking.


I hear Rob moving a few steps behind me. I walk to the next door and push it open. Looking around and all there is to see is a whole bunch of tourist clothes. Big and baggy tourist clothes. MARTHA’S VINEYARD is on the front of every shirt and displayed down the side of every pant leg. As I rummage through the clothing racks, I find the one shirt that doesn’t say Martha’s Vineyard on it and thankfully it is my size.

“I think I found it!” I yell over to Rob, who was standing back near the door. I feel slightly bad for leaving him behind, but he did spill his coffee all over my other one. I walk over to the counter and the lady greats us and scans the shirt.

I look at Rob, “I’m going to put this on. I will be right back.” I turn around. He started to pay for my shirt and I went back into the dressing room to change into it. It’s a cute green and blue crop top. These colors don’t normally look good on me, but today for some reason they look okay.

I look at my phone, “Shit!” I am late for school. It will be my third tardy, then I will get detention. I rush out of the dressing room. Rob is looking at me. Staring.

“I have to go, I am really late for school! Thank you for the shirt!” I say as I rush to the door.

“Wait!” He calls, “You look really pretty!” I turn around and look at him.               

“No I don’t, but thank you.” I say, “My name is Ezra by the way.” I smile slightly to myself, turn around and run off.

I throw open the door of my Toyota, throw my messed shirt in the back and put my coffee in the cup holder.

I could see him staring at me in my back mirror longingly as I drove away. His long red hair blowing in the wind. His green t-shirt sticking to his body with the wind blowing it into place. I turn the corner and he is gone. I will never see him again.


Throughout the day the only thing I can think about is Rob. He spilled coffee on me and I cannot stop thinking about him. It’s all a daze. I go from one class to another. It was rude of me to just rush out like that, I barely even said thank you. I was really late for school. He seemed pretty cool though, and he called me pretty. He seemed like someone I probably would not hang out with; my friends just seemed so different from him. I still find myself fascinated by him. You are never going to see him again, I think. It was just one incident. You should stop thinking about him. I feel like I know I shouldn’t obsess over that but it is still hard for me to stop, and my stomach is still stained by the coffee, even though I tried to get it off.

“Hey Ezra, are you okay?” Juliette said, brushing her waist length, layered brown hair over her shoulder. Out of all of the friends that I have, Juliette and I care the least about being popular. She notices more about others feelings and is compassionate towards others. We are just followers in the grand scheme of things. Kelsey is the leader of our group. She is always needing to be the number one. Kelsey has her two “girls,” Jessie and Colette. All three of them have blonde hair and tan skin. Juliette, Kelsey, Jessie, Colette and I have been best friends since the first grade, but as we got older Kelsey got more popular and she dragged us up with her.

“Yeah, I am fine. Thank you.” I say sighing, doodling until the bell rings for the end of last period. I rush out the door and bump into someone. I just want to get to my car. We both stumble a little bit. I look up to see Rob. He changed into a blue tee-shirt and green denim jacket. On his feet were strappy brown-leather sandals. His hands were filled with a bouquet of orange and red freckled flowers.

Tiger Lilies.

My favorite flower.



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