Chapter Text
Another day, another dollar.
From ten in the morning to six o’clock, you sell lemonade at the local park. It doesn’t pay all that much, but you earn enough to cover your personal expenses while you live under your parents’ roof. You are also putting yourself through online college, and you were lucky enough to receive financial aid and scholarships, so tuition costs you nothing out of your own pocket. You have a car. Granted, it used to be Mom’s and it’s old, but it was well taken care of, and you intend to keep it that way. You have nice clothes. You bought a new phone not too long ago with money you saved up working at the lemonade stand. By all conventional metrics, life is pretty peachy for you.
So… Why?
As you sit on a park bench with your lunch in hand, why do you feel so… empty?
You attempt to shrug off the misery brewing in your mind. Maybe it’s because you’re hungry, idiot. Surely, you’ll feel good about life again after you eat. It’s a quarter to three, so you only have fifteen minutes left before you go back to work. You bought your favorite sandwich from the food truck near the lemonade stand.
You unwrap the sandwich from its parchment prison, revealing its flavorful layers to you. You’ve had this sandwich a million times, but God, it never gets old. And that sauce! Your mouth salivates at the thought, and imagination becomes reality the moment you take a bite. You tilt your head up towards the sky with your eyes closed, mentally thanking the heavens for the meal. You’re nearly convinced this sandwich can heal people.
As you enjoy lunch, you watch skateboarders zoom about and nearly break their legs attempting to do insane tricks. You go out of your way to sit here near the skate park section since hanging around the lemonade stand on your break is lame. Here, you can be entertained for free. It’s usually the same people skateboarding every time you sit here, too. Some of them have come up and spoken to you, and you know them by name now. Sometimes you cheer them on. You’ve seen newbies learn and progress, little kids getting their first scrapped knees, the same friend groups hanging around. You’ve even watched some guy break his arm once. That was gnarly.
Sometimes, you do a little more than people-watch. Sometimes, you imagine certain people being close to you. Talking to you. Whispering to you. Maybe they wrap an arm around your shoulders and lean into you. You imagine how their breath would feel against your neck, sending shivers down your spine. You imagine how their lips would feel against yours.
These fantasies are typically short-lived. Nothing more than dirty little thought crimes.
But this… this one little thought is a repeat offender.
You've had crushes on people before. That's nothing new. Usually, you grow fond of people you regularly interact with. It makes sense to develop feelings for people you’ve built a rapport with. But that's not the case this time.
They're here today, skating while their friends record videos of them. A beautiful blonde with shoulder-length hair, wearing thick glasses, a baggy blue tee, and red cargo pants. They seem to be the same age as you, and they're so your type. They recently started coming to the skate park with their friends - a green, bug-eyed alien and a sentient lightbulb man. The blonde waved and smiled at you once before. They look very sweet to you, but you don't even know their name. It’s not even like you see them everyday. Hell, you didn’t catch a glimpse of them at all last week. You don’t know them. You don’t know them at all.
You saw the group record their introduction ten minutes ago. They went over basic skateboarding safety. You heard the blonde talk loudly to the camera about making sure you wear the proper safety gear, like elbow and knee pads and a properly fitted helmet. You find it endearing that they want to make educational content. Most people your age would rather grab a microphone and spread ignorant talking points to make a quick buck.
You watched them intently as you finished the rest of your sandwich. Their hair glistened in the warm sunlight. Their cheeks are rosy red, as if they are perpetually blushing. They're so cute! You can't help but smile.
Finally, the blonde lands the flip with his board after several tries. Their friends cheered, jumping up and down in excitement.
“I did it! Oh my God, I finally did it! That was so cool," they shouted. “Did you guys get that?!”
“Yeah, we totally did! That was awesome!” the alien beamed.
The trio all huddled up to replay the footage. The blonde was elated to see they captured the moment. They high-fived their lightbulb friend, and gave the little alien a big hug. Gosh, the display was simply adorable. Though, to you, the blonde was the cutest.
You pulled out your phone to check the time. It's 2:59 PM. You stood up from the bench, and tossed your parchment wrappers into a nearby trash bin. Following the east trail, you began to make your way back to the lemonade stand.
Approaching the familiar lemon-yellow shack, you took out the key for the backdoor from your pocket. You unlocked it and let yourself in, turning on all the lights and grabbing your faded-yellow apron that hung on a hook in the wall. You put it on, secured the knot behind your back, and made sure your name tag was fastened correctly. Finally, you went around outside to open the metal panel door, opening the shack to the public. You glanced at the clock on the wall. 3:07 PM. Whatever. You're paid for your break anyway.
Time flies when you're working hard. You barely thought about anything else but the work at hand. Making sure all orders are accurate takes a lot of concentration, especially when you have to make multiple drinks at once. After 4:30 PM, the customer flow finally dies down a bit, and you're able to clean counters, utensils, and refill syrups and add-ins.
The sun begins to set. You start to see people leaving the park. You make some last minute orders, and start cleaning the shack more thoroughly, preparing to close. The clock reads 5:48 PM. You should really be counting out your register and making sure everything is accounted for by now.
“You know, I've never gone down this way before. I didn't know they had food vendors around…”
“Ooo!!! What's ‘lemonade’?”
“Oh! It's um… Hey, wait up, Martian!”
Suddenly, the short, four-armed alien from earlier ran up to the front counter with a big smile.
“Hi there, friend! What's ‘lemonade’?” The alien repeated.
Donning your customer service voice, you explained that it's a drink made from lemons, a fruit that's sour and a little sweet. Sugar is added to make it sweeter, and additional flavorings can be added to his liking. You pointed towards the menu, conveniently laminated and taped down to the counter in front of him.
“Woah,” the alien expressed softly. His eyes briefly perused the menu, looking at all the options for flavors, toppings, and other mix-ins. Finally, he looks up at you with his big, midnight-colored orbs and a toothy grin. “Can I have a lemonade with everything?”
Everything?
“Yeah, everything!” The alien affirmed.
You warned him that the business charges extra for each mix-in and flavor. You pointed to the fine print on the menu and made sure he was aware of this.
“That's fine by me! I can pay for it! How much do I owe ya?”
You tallied up his total on the register. $32.65.
“Hold on!” The alien said, reaching for something in his pockets. Does he even have pockets? You could've sworn he wasn't even wearing pants. You decided not to follow this train of thought further.
“Here! Is this enough?”
The alien placed a ten dollar bill on the counter, alongside some loose change, lint, and a paperclip. His eyes twinkled as he waited for your answer. He buzzed with excitement, his antennae twitching about.
You told him he's still $22.39 short.
Immediately, he was crushed. His antennae drooped over his frowning face. Gosh, he was like a sad puppy!
“Martian!!!”
The blonde and the lightbulb man from earlier appeared behind the alien, out of breath.
“Gosh, that little guy is fast!” The blonde wiped the sweat off his brow.
“Marti, are you okay?” The lightbulb asked. “You look… down.”
“Do you guys have 22 dollars and 39 cents? I don't have enough for this lemonade…,” the alien - Martian, or Marti for short - asked with a soft pouty expression.
“You need that much for a lemonade? There's no way!” The lightbulb denounced. He wagged his finger at you angrily. “You ought to be ashamed of yourself. You think you can scam him because he’s not from this planet!”
Your jaw dropped to the floor at the accusation. This is a big misunderstanding! He was trying to order everything off the menu!
“Everything?” The lightbulb glared at you skeptically. He turned to his alien friend. “Marti, is that true?”
The alien's antennae perked up a little. He gave his friend a sheepish smile. “It’s true, Lighty. I just don’t have enough to pay for it.”
“Martian, don’t worry about it. Keep your ten bucks. I’ll cover it this time,” The blonde reassured his extraterrestrial companion. He turned to you, with his wallet in hand. “How much is it again?”
$32.65.
“Damn,” they cursed under their breath. “Do you take card?”
Indeed, you did. The blonde handed you their debit card. You held their card against the payment terminal, processing the transaction. You read the name on the card. Facty, huh? You’ve never seen a name like that before.
As the receipt printed from the machine beside you, you returned the card back to them. You tore the receipt from the printer and gave it to them. You glanced at the clock on the wall. 5:56 PM. Looks like you won’t be getting out in time.
You filled half a quart-sized container with lemonade from the fridge. One by one, you added every flavored syrup, puree, and frozen fruit mix-in. You don’t even know how you managed to fit the tapioca pearls and the popping boba in there. God, it was honestly an abomination of a beverage. It turned into a very deep shade of violet as you stirred it together with a bar spoon. Finally, you closed it with a lid. You placed it on the serving counter in front of the alien, who was eagerly watching you prepare the drink.
You passed him a boba straw. Enjoy!
“Thank you!” Martian smiled. After stabbing the lib with the straw, he took a big sip of the lemonade. His antennae shot upward as he drank it.
“Well, how is it, Marti?” Lighty - the lightbulb guy - asked. He was cringing as he watched the alien drink the overly-sweet beverage. You supposed the both of you were having the same thought: there’s no way that tastes good.
“Hmmm,” Martian hummed. “It reminds me of… home.”
Your eyes widened at his words. You looked at the rest of his buddies, who appeared just as shocked as you.
“It reminds me of this drink we have back on my home planet. It’s called Fizzie Flaz. This tastes really similar!”
You smiled at the little alien. You told him you’re glad he likes it.
“Thank you!” Martian chirped happily.
You’re welcome, you told him.
Lighty stepped forward, leaning on the counter. “Thank you, and I’m sorry for saying that you were trying to scam him. It happens to him a lot.”
“It’s true,” Marti lamented, staring into his dark-colored lemonade abyss. “I’m still learning how to read your language.”
You accepted Lighty’s apology, and assured them they are welcome to return anytime.
The alien and the lightbulb began to walk along the trail, but the blonde - who you now know as Facty - hesitated to follow. You had started putting away all the toppings and cleaning up the shack, when suddenly, they called out to you by name. They must’ve read your nametag.
“I’m so sorry to hold you up,” Facty said. “I know it’s already past six and you’re supposed to close, but I couldn’t leave without giving you this.”
They handed you a five dollar bill. You gently took the money from their hand, and thanked them for the tip.
“Yeah, of course! Anything for someone who made my friend smile!”
You both waved goodbye to each other. Facty ran to catch up with their friends, while you continued to clean and close up shop.
Finally, at 6:30 PM exactly, you locked the shack up for the night. You began to walk along the east trail back to the parking lot. You always park in the same spot right in front of the east park entrance where there's more lighting. As you approached your car, you unlocked it using your key fob. You got in the driver's seat, flipping down your visor to look at yourself in the mirror before turning the car on. God, work made a mess out of you, but it's nothing a nice shower can't fix. You inserted the key into the ignition, started the engine, and backed out of your parking spot. Home is only fifteen minutes away.
The drive home was uneventful. You pulled into the driveway and parked, turning the engine off and getting out of the vehicle. The air is cool against your skin, which you appreciated after spending your daylight hours on your feet, making refreshments for other people all day.
You made your way inside, and were immediately greeted by your mom from the kitchen. You walked through the living room and turned the corner to say hello. You saw she was making dinner. She turned around to face you.
“How was your day, sweetheart?” She asked.
Good, you answered. You told her how you served an alien their first lemonade, and how they said it reminded them of a drink on their home planet.
“Ah, that must’ve made their day!”
It sure did.
“Well, dinner will be done in fifteen minutes. I will call for you once it’s done, okay?”
You gave her a nod. You told her you’ll be showering, so you may not hear her.
“Oh, of course! Take your time, honey. Dinner isn’t going anywhere, but it’s better hot.”
That’s true.
With that, you walked down the hallway and entered your room. You emptied your pockets of your phone, wallet, and keys. You grabbed a towel and some clothes to change into from your closet before heading to the bathroom.
You didn't take too long in the shower. It was enough to wash off the sweat and grime from the day and make you feel better about yourself. Wearing your favorite t-shirt and sweatpants, you returned to your room, threw your dirty clothes in the hamper, and hung your towel to dry. You planted yourself at your desk, turning on your laptop computer. While you waited for it to boot up, you reached for your comb. You passed its teeth through your hair as you watched the device come to life. Quickly, you checked to see if you had any homework due for any of your courses. Luckily, you had none, but there is an essay due on Friday night. You could get started on it now, but you figured it could wait.
What to do now? Absent-mindedly, you opened a new tab and opened TikTok on your browser. You scrolled through seemingly endless amounts of videos. Having to sift through junk and advertisements to get one video worth your time frustrates you quickly. You open another tab for YouTube. It's more of the same. You decide to listen to music instead, clicking a playlist you found in your recommendations. The music played through your laptop speakers, reminding you to plug in your headphones. After you plugged them in, you tapped your feet to the rhythm. Music always seemed to put you in a better mood.
Suddenly, you remembered something.
You clicked back to your Tiktok tab on your browser. Your fingers hovered over your keyboard, twitching with a mix of hesitation and anticipation. Certainly, this is not any of your business. However, curiosity kills.
You typed the blonde's name into the search - their first name only - just to see what would come up.
Fact Attack Adventures…?
You found their Tiktok page. It already has some uploads. There was a new video posted earlier today. You decided to watch it.
“Skateboarding is fun, but fun starts with safety!” Facty declared. “You can prevent major injuries by wearing the proper safety gear.”
They demonstrated to the camera how to fasten their elbow pads, knee pads, wrist guards, and their helmet. “By wearing your helmet, you are minimizing the risk of a concussion in the event that you fall and hit your head. Elbow and knee pads minimize the impact of falls on your joints. Wrist guards protect your hands, and prevent common sprains and strains in your wrist. Once you have all your gear on, you can start having fun on your skateboard!”
The rest of the video was a mash-up of clips of Facty skateboarding in the park. There were shots of him zooming past the camera, skating down the skate bowl, and finally, doing that kick-flip that took them over ten minutes to get right. You smiled to yourself, thinking about how it was kind of cool to witness the trio film that part.
You clicked off the video. You racked your brain trying to remember Facty's last name as you saw it on their debit card. It took a few searches to get it right but you finally found what you were looking for: their personal Tiktok account. You were lucky enough to even find it, but even luckier because it wasn't a private profile.
They mostly post photos of them hanging out with their friends. There were a few photos uploaded earlier of them in the skate park. One photo showed Facty taking a selfie, holding the camera up high above his head to capture his friends behind him. Another showed Martian happily drinking his lemonade. Sweet little slices of their day, documented and posted publicly for all to see. You wondered if maybe you can be posted in this way, showing the world that you're important to someone special. Hopefully, that someone could be Facty, but you never know what life truly has in store for you.
Perhaps you can make the uncertain certain. There are ways to tip the scales in your favor. There are ways to get what you want. But, do you really want it? Do you really want it that bad? So bad to the point of doing anything and everything, taking down every obstacle in your way, doing absolutely whatever it takes to get what you want?
Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe if you were unemployed and had nothing better to do. Still, there's nothing wrong with wanting. There's nothing wrong with being interested in someone. It's healthy, even. Very normal indeed.
“Dinner is ready, sweetie! Eat up before it gets cold!” Your mother called for you from the kitchen.
You closed all the tabs on your laptop. Before you opened your bedroom door to exit, you stopped in your tracks, freezing at the sudden realization.
Profile views. They can see I found them.