Until Tomorrow
wednesday
Becca didn’t talk much after Kelly left. It was like she caved in on herself and suddenly forgot the person she used to be. She was no longer opinionated or loud. Her cynicism, however, remained. She slipped into a sort of depression, but managed to hide it from her parents, who were far too focused on locating her flighty sister.
Her parents fought a lot. Becca’s father was convinced they’d find Kelly eventually and refused to give up the search. Her mother tried to get him to calm down, to lay off a bit – let her come home in her own time. They were as different as night and day and Becca just couldn’t take it. The only place she had was the tiny music store three blocks from her house.
There were better, more expensive-looking music stores scattered all over the city, but Logan’s had all the good stuff. It was there that she met the boy with the overly complicated name. Becca was flipping through racks of CDs on sale, her cheeks puffed out as she blew air into them, before letting it out. She was always pulling the weirdest expressions in public places without noticing. She didn’t care much. Not anymore.
“You have a great taste in music.” Becca sighed and kept flipping through the CDs, not bothering to look up at the guy who’d decided to annoy the fuck out of her. “Yeah, I have this problem where I’m too fucking awesome for people to handle,” she said. He snorted in laughter.
“I’m Whakaio,” he said, holding out his hand for her to shake. Becca turned her head to look at him and narrowed her eyes. “You’re new,” she deadpanned. “What happened to the bald dude?” Whakaio smiled and shook his head lightly. “He just owns the place. He doesn’t work here anymore.”
“Cool beans,” Becca said dryly, turning back to the CD rack, picking out a few more before trudging over to the counter. Whakaio was standing behind it with a huge smile on his face. Becca rolled her eyes and rummaged in her bag for her wallet, digging out two tens, before looking up at Whakaio again.
“Two Door Cinema Club, The Killers, Vampire Weekend, Augustana., The Smiths…” Whakaio said, going through the CDs. “You like indie music, huh?” Becca pushed the money over the counter, grabbing the CDs and shoving them in her bag. “Only on Wednesdays,” she muttered, before shuffling quickly out of the store. Whakaio stared after her, wondering what music she liked on Thursdays, and if she’d be back to buy it the following day like he hoped she would.
Her parents fought a lot. Becca’s father was convinced they’d find Kelly eventually and refused to give up the search. Her mother tried to get him to calm down, to lay off a bit – let her come home in her own time. They were as different as night and day and Becca just couldn’t take it. The only place she had was the tiny music store three blocks from her house.
There were better, more expensive-looking music stores scattered all over the city, but Logan’s had all the good stuff. It was there that she met the boy with the overly complicated name. Becca was flipping through racks of CDs on sale, her cheeks puffed out as she blew air into them, before letting it out. She was always pulling the weirdest expressions in public places without noticing. She didn’t care much. Not anymore.
“You have a great taste in music.” Becca sighed and kept flipping through the CDs, not bothering to look up at the guy who’d decided to annoy the fuck out of her. “Yeah, I have this problem where I’m too fucking awesome for people to handle,” she said. He snorted in laughter.
“I’m Whakaio,” he said, holding out his hand for her to shake. Becca turned her head to look at him and narrowed her eyes. “You’re new,” she deadpanned. “What happened to the bald dude?” Whakaio smiled and shook his head lightly. “He just owns the place. He doesn’t work here anymore.”
“Cool beans,” Becca said dryly, turning back to the CD rack, picking out a few more before trudging over to the counter. Whakaio was standing behind it with a huge smile on his face. Becca rolled her eyes and rummaged in her bag for her wallet, digging out two tens, before looking up at Whakaio again.
“Two Door Cinema Club, The Killers, Vampire Weekend, Augustana., The Smiths…” Whakaio said, going through the CDs. “You like indie music, huh?” Becca pushed the money over the counter, grabbing the CDs and shoving them in her bag. “Only on Wednesdays,” she muttered, before shuffling quickly out of the store. Whakaio stared after her, wondering what music she liked on Thursdays, and if she’d be back to buy it the following day like he hoped she would.
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It's pronounced whack-kye-oh.