Andy was so nervous, he wasn’t sure he could eat. He purchased a new shirt for his date with Jodi. He polished his shoes that morning three times, making sure not to miss a spot. He had somehow convinced his mother to allow him to borrow her credit card for the evening. He promised he would pay back every cent. At 7:10pm the maitre de handed Andy a note. Puzzled, he opened it and read, “Jodi has a surprise for you. Come into the men’s room.” Andy passed several people drinking cocktails, smiling, and generally having a nice time. He pushed open the restroom door and entered. No Jodi. Instead, three of the school’s most obnoxious bullies and jock wannabees greeted Andy. “What’s going on?” Andy asked, looking from one to the other. He was having trouble thinking. Was this some sort of a joke?

One of the three goons locked the door and they all laughed. “Andy’s Acne Association. Who the hell do you think you are kidding, moon face?” one of them shouted. “Do you think Jodi would ever go out with you and your ugly pimply face? 'You are so sweet, Andy,'” he said, mimicking a female’s voice. The three howled in laughter. One of them took out a bagful of Boston Crème donuts and tossed several to each of his buddies. “Hey zits face, this is what your face looks like on a good day. Now, guys!” he ordered. Simultaneously, the three bullies surrounded Andy, squeezing the donuts so that the cream shot out, exploding all over Andy’s face, new shirt, and polished shoes. The normally meticulous bathroom and Andy were a mess. One of the idiots then forced Andy’s mouth open, and they began stuffing the donuts into Andy’s mouth. He had trouble breathing. If not for one of the restaurant patrons knocking on the door and shouting, “What’s going on in there,” Andy might have been a goner. For a second, the thugs stopped. The jerk holding the empty paper bag then placed it over Andy’s head and they all headed out the window, screaming with laughter. Andy dropped to the floor, the paths of his streaming tears altered by splotches of creamy donut filling.

One Friday morning in early October began no differently than any other. Andy waited on line at the donut shop. On this day, however, he glanced up at just the right moment, just in time to see a smiling Tina hand the customer, a teenage boy at the front of the line, his change. It was a single dollar bill. The young man, head bobbing to the music fueled by his headset, held the single up over his head, and proclaimed, “Keep the change, Tina. Who’s better than you?” He was unintentionally shouting, his own voice dwarfed by the blasting music in his ears. The boy deftly deposited the bill in the tip mug, and turned with coffee and sweets in hand toward the door, still nodding his head to the beat. Andy noticed the boy had severe acne. He winced, unconsciously feeling his own pock-marked face. He was brought back to earth by Tina. “May I help you?” Tina was already moving toward the medium size coffee cups. “Medium coffee, two sugars, and a little half and half,” he said.

Tina grabbed the uppermost cup from the stack of inverted cups, positioned it under the spout, pulled the black lever, and watched as the smoke rose and the coffee dropped into the cup. Andy turned to the newspapers. This morning, the headline screamed. KILL JODI TOMORROW. Andy did a double take just to make certain. The message hadn’t changed. He looked all around, his ears buzzing with a deafening white noise. He couldn’t stop it. He leaned on the counter for support and placed the paper next to his coffee. As usual, Tina hadn’t noticed anything peculiar or out of the ordinary about the newspaper. Then again, he thought, why should she? The smiling Tina looked him in the eye and asked, “Would you like any donuts this morning?” Andy barely managed a faint, “No, thank you. Just the paper and the coffee.”

That Monday in school, everyone was talking about Andy’s date. He pleaded with his mother to let him stay home, but she would have no part of it. Andy was too ashamed to tell her the reason. Walking through the halls, Andy felt the presence of the entire student body around him. Some of the kids felt very uncomfortable and walked past him with their heads down. Most, however, stifled laughter or with no regard for his feelings, laughed out loud. Jodi came up to him between sixth and seventh periods and apologized. She said she thought it would be funny, but realized afterward that it was a mean thing to do. Now, she just wanted to be friends with Andy. She said he really was sweet. Would he forgive her? Andy fidgeted with his books and stuck his left hand in his back jeans pocket. “I dunno,” he said. “I’m not sure. I guess so.” He wanted to go home.

The line was uncharacteristically long for a Saturday morning. Tina and Freddie were doing their best to keep up, but there wasn’t much line movement. Andy waited. He took in the signage, “Be a Sweetie. Eat Donut Holes.” The plastic sign was chipped in the lower right-hand corner. Andy wondered if that’s how it arrived from the warehouse or if Freddie screwed it up while hanging it. He noticed the pants on the man in front of him were too short. He was sensitive to short pants, having been the target of insults when he was younger. He leaned over to get a look at the newspapers, but he was still too far away to see the front page. He checked his cell phone for the time. He thought about what he would do on his day off tomorrow. Staying patient wasn’t easy. He tried to temporarily distract himself from the inevitable, but found it impossible.

He ran through the day’s events in his mind. He’d begin work at the library as he normally did, logging into his computer, sharpening pencils, etc. He’d wait for Jodi to come into the library and then watch for her to enter the ladies’ room. That was inevitable, since Jodi went to the bathroom several times during her library visits. He’d then remove the master restroom key from his desk, follow her in, and take care of business. It would be quick, he thought. Messy, but quick. He couldn’t wait to see the expression on Jodi’s face. Andy looked up and watched as a mother and her daughter exited the donut shop’s restroom, the mother bending over, wiping the little girl’s mouth. “Next time, don’t wait until the last minute,” the mother admonished the girl. The little girl pointed to the donut display behind Tina, but her mother grabbed her hand and said sternly, “No.” It was time. The man with the too short pants ordered a sprinkle donut, paid with exact change, and left.

“May I help you?” Tina questioned him. Andy ordered his coffee. Tina prepared it, applied the plastic top and slid it toward Andy. Andy closed his eyes, turned left, and stared down at the newspapers. MAKE HER CHOKE ON HER WORDS. The wait was over. “Would you like any donuts this morning?” Andy nodded his head. “I’ll take a dozen Boston Crème, please.”