CW: Sexual harassment

When Ted had left Heller, he rapidly discovered that money was something needed for most people to survive—he still had his parent's house and their generosity (their dismay at him leaving high school early was countered by their realization that in a way he had graduated early, which deserved its own praise), but most of all, he had his ego to feed. He wasn't going to say he graduated high school and then did nothing with his life, so he did what every enterprising person ought to do and got a job at a boba shop, the symbolic resonance very apparent to him. The owner, Mr. Zhu, had insisted on managing everything himself for many years, and begrudgingly accepted Ted's offer to do anything and everything as long as it put food on the table. In just a few short months, Ted was promoted to general manager of Novel-Tea, and every day he'd come in bright and early to start preparing ingredients, and wouldn't leave until they closed at 8. Twelve hour shifts, every day, didn't leave room for much leisure—but it brought Ted money and Mr. Zhu's respect, and Ted became Mr. Zhu's second-in-command, managing people double his age.

And so Ted kept working through the summer, serving all his customers boba with a bartender's flair, doubling Mr. Zhu's business through his willingness to source higher-quality ingredients and experiment with gourmet drinks. Mr. Zhu had laughed at him, saying that nobody would buy a $7 cup of boba even if it were served with a smile and tailored to the guest—Ted didn't like the term "customer"—but Ted told him to have faith, the guests would pay, and indeed the guests paid, and Ted found himself with even more tips. This equilibrium was not disrupted when on one of Ted's lunch breaks, he found himself stumbling into Frank, who told him this wild story about him being president and Heller bending itself backward to support the weight of his ego—Ted did not care what it was Frank said, as long as it did not concern him.

The sudden drop in afterschool guests at the beginning of the school year did not go unnoticed by Ted and Mr. Zhu; Mr. Zhu was resigned, saying that it was inevitable the tide would turn, but Ted knew better: Frank's prophecy had come true, and if that were the case, the refugees were inevitable. One day, Louis came in with a scowl, which always meant a story was at hand:

"Louis, my friend! It's been too long! The usual?"

"Make it extra strong today. School was shit," Louis groaned.

"Of course school is shit, that's why I left."

"You're very fortunate, Ted, that you had a choice in the matter. I wouldn't have been scouted for squash if I weren't staying in school, and if I didn't have that, what would I have?"

"You'd be happy. What even is squash anyway? People hit balls against walls and they find it fun. Crazy stuff."

"That's not the worst of it: I have to clean the toilets now."

"I clean the toilets here—it's humbling work. It gives you a better understanding of your food, seeing it as it's made and then after it's digested. What's the big deal?"

"I don't get paid for it."

"Louis, the volunteer! I never thought you'd find generosity in that grizzled old heart of yours."

"I was volunteered for the position. It wasn't my choice."

"Even less work for you: you didn't have to make a decision!"

Ted gave Louis his drink, and Louis took a long sip.

"It's even worse: I'm an Epsilon now, so this is what I have to do. Garbage collection, sweeping, toilets. It's dreadful."

"I don't see the big deal—you have a job title! And it's a fancy Greek one too, and not something boring like 'janitor' or 'serf.' You should celebrate—finish your drink."

"It's been two days now and I feel the worst I've ever felt. There's a lump in my throat just thinking about it."

"Are you sure it isn't a boba pearl?"

"This is real stuff, Ted. I'm nothing now, when I used to be something. Not much of anything, but at least I had something. Alyssa's a Delta, which isn't much better, but at least she doesn't have to clean the toilets."

"What does she do instead, stand and watch?"

"She avoids becoming an Epsilon."

"A noble goal if I've ever heard one. So what's the big deal? You go to school, scrub a few toilets, and come home to a swimming pool and an allowance you could fill that swimming pool with to swim around like Scrooge McDuck."

"I'm not happy. All the club people treat us like second-class citizens now. We're strangers at our own school."

"Well, you'll always be a friend here. Bring Alyssa next time—it's been a while since I've seen her."

"I will, Ted. Thanks again for the drink," Louis said, handing Ted a $20 as a tip.

"Anything for one of my most loyal customers," Ted returned with his usual jovial smirk, looking around to make sure none of the other employees noticed. Mr. Zhu never cared, but Ted always thought the others were envious of his management skills, and resented him for winning his attention. Mr. Zhu also had a habit of appearing whenever Ted thought of him, and he came out to see who the guest was:

"That kid, I've seen him around before. He's one of your friends, no, from Heller?"

"Yes, and he's our first refugee customer. I was right—they will keep coming."

"A refugee, from where? I'm a refugee, did you know that? Who's he escaping, his own shadow?"

"Something like that, only spookier. You see, there's this kid I used to know—sharp as a tack—who wrote himself a manifesto once, which contained these really nasty things you wouldn't agree with: paranoia is a sign of intelligence, don't drink boba, backstab your friends. And this is crazy stuff, you would think, but he's found himself many a fan. Frank may be sharp, but his friends are dull, so you see, they fall for this sort of thing very easily, and Frank has a habit of raising fine points. So now from what I gather they have the political enemies like Louis scrubbing toilets." Mr. Zhu shook his head.

"Your family's from Israel, right?"

"That's right. My parents were born in New York, but my grandparents were immigrants from Israel. Started a whole new life here."

"And where were they before that?"

"Poland, but they left as small children, because, you know, the war."

"So you too come from a family of refugees. You know how dangerous people like this Frank can be, and you also know how important it is we do our part to stop them."

"What can we do, Mr. Zhu? He's a kid," Ted laughed.

"You said so yourself: we cater to refugees. Whatever they need, we provide for them. Anything too severe and then we lose all our customers from Heller. But if it means lowering our prices for political victims like Louis, if it means we help them enroll in community college classes, we will do it. And you might think this is odd for business, but let me tell you: if the newspaper picks up that we are heroes, then business will double! It's a good deal, Ted, is it not? Tell me honestly what you think, I trust you," Mr. Zhu said, leaning on the counter for support.

If Ted had a taste for Heller's politics, he would have kept going to the club meetings after it became clear they were not hot singles meetings (more people who attended the club meetings tended to be single than average, a fact that dawned on Ted junior year after seeing all the club people holed up inside on Valentine's Day). He was there for the elections—everyone was there for the elections—but had always assumed them to be the business of people who cared more about their futures. And by the time Ted cared about his future, he had ascertained that the problems of a few stuck-up high school students didn't amount to a hill of beans in their crazy world. Even now, he didn't want to think about it, but in some way he felt for Louis, and most of all, war was bad for business.

"You're absolutely right, boss. What do these people need after hard shifts scrubbing toilets and shining Mr. Kurtz's shoes? A nice drink."

"We will think about it more later," Mr. Zhu declared, and he went back into his office. Ted had never thought of his work as having any moral significance, but it sure made him feel a bit better thinking that he was taking a stand against Frank by doing his job and collecting massive tips.

Behrooz was his next notable guest a few days later, and Ted was happy he'd have a break from Louis telling him tales of woe (Ted figured he was paid to be a good listener and couldn't say no).

"Hey, it's been a while! Come to say hello to your old friend?"

"Thai tea, half sugar, less ice, regular boba," Behrooz said, sitting down at the bar.

"Funny way of saying hello, but at least you didn't point and grunt. How does it feel to be treasurer? How much of their illicit profits are you skimming off the top—if Frank's to be believed, y'all are doing quite well for yourselves," Ted joked, knowing Behrooz was likely to respond with silence.

"You know how during Prohibition, people went to speakeasies to get their booze? I feel like I'm doing the same thing right now—Frank would murder me if word got out I was here right now."

"Frank's one of the few people I know who would follow up on that, you should be careful—mum's the word. But what is it, really, with him? Louis said he was an Epsilon, so what does that make you, an Alpha?"

"Yeah—you know Greek?"

"I know my sororities, yeah."

"Being an Alpha is supposed to be great—that's what we're always told, and it's what I'm supposed to tell others. 'I'm so glad I'm an Alpha...' and all that. But I've lost friends because of it. If I'm an Alpha, I'm not to hang out with people too far below me, and everyone uses me as a scapegoat for what's wrong with them. Louis yelled at me the other day because he thought I was the one making him scrub toilets."

"Louis and those toilets, I'm telling you. That kid has developed a real potty-mouth."

"It sucks. It really does. So how are you doing, Ted?"

"The usual, working hard, putting away money for college. Let me ask you something, Behrooz, now that we've had this bonding moment of ours. My boss was telling me that all of you are refugees, and that we ought to make this place a bit homier for all of you coming down from Heller. What do you make of that?"

"My parents are refugees from Iran. They escaped when the regime changed. I'm very sympathetic to them. But do I identify as a refugee? Not at all. I'm part of the administration. I'm a collaborator. You ought to shoot someone like me."

"If I shot you I'd have to clean up the mess. Bloodborne pathogens are a real bitch."

"What, you think I have hepatitis? Anyway, all I'd ever want from a place like this is a place where everybody knows my name, and I can have a drink and chat with my friends without it mattering who's an Alpha or who's a Beta. Sometimes people forget that no matter what labels we're given, we're all people with no goal but to find our way through this crazy world."

"Spread the word, Behrooz, that everyone is welcome here at Ted's place. Where's Beth? Cheer practice?"

"Yeah, but she doesn't like boba, so you would never see her coming here," Behrooz lied.

"Of course she likes boba—everyone likes boba. No, don't tell me Frank got to her, too."

Behrooz shook his head with a sheepish smile.

"Oh, don't tell me she's still mad at me for our passionate affair back in sophomore year. That was two years ago—I was a worse person then. Tell her I'm sorry, man, and that even if I'm even more devilishly handsome now it won't happen again."

Behrooz shook his head again.

"Ah, so she's not the one bothered by it, you don't want her coming here. I can avoid eye contact with her, if you think my gaze is going to hypnotize her and make her a drooling simpleton—or is it the other way around?"

"She's my girlfriend! At least for now. Of course I'm going to be protective of her, and you aren't wrong, she buys into this club stuff a lot more than I do. The last thing she'd want is rumors floating around that she's schmoozing with people like you and Louis."

"Atta boy. Very well, but if you ever change your mind, bring her along. I won't tell."

"I will. See ya, Ted."

Word slowly spread that Ted was willing to lend a sympathetic ear to anyone who needed to vent about the regime without Frank catching word of it, and business began to pick up. Betas and Epsilons fraternized freely (many Alphas valuing their reputation too much to be seen with Epsilons even off-campus), and Ted had taken Mr. Zhu's suggestion of offering more services: he had bought some power strips and phone chargers, some board games, and at Mr. Zhu's insistence had printed out some flyers explaining the community college signup process. One day, all his customers froze and turned toward the door, and there sauntered in Jason, who scanned the boba shop with an approving smile.

"Look at you, Ted, supporting this capitalist decadence! I'd never have expected it from you."

"What, becoming a member of the bourgeoisie?"

"No, getting a job."

"I don't see you doing anything equally productive, besides being the very model of a modern major-general. If you've come to shut us down, you have no power here. You might enforce segregation at school, but here anyone and everyone can sit at the same table or bar. So what do you want to drink, Jason? Or are you scared someone's going to tattle on you?"

"I come in peace, Ted. I can't shut this place down even if I wanted to, and besides, I think it's stupid the club people worry so much about boba when there are other priorities. Like monitoring for sedition. So what drinks are good here?"

"For you, only the best—I tell every guest I save them the best. You don't look like you have a sweet tooth, so for you, I think you'll enjoy this. I designed the recipe to emulate a Negroni, obviously without the stuff that makes it fun. Sadly, I don't have any vodka or caviar."

"I feel special already." Jason remained silent until Ted handed him his drink, and he took a small sip. Ted really had a talent for mixing drinks. It was good to know he'd finally found his purpose.

"This is great. Here's a $20—keep the change. I worry if I stay any longer your customers will descend upon me like pigeons. And if you ever see Madeline come in here, tell her that it's undignified for a class president to come here, no matter how fancy the drinks are."

"If you can come here, and Behrooz can come here, what's the big deal?"

"She doesn't respect my authority, and I don't like her because of it. She doesn't have the good manners to fall in line like everyone else, and so I do my part to torment her a bit. A shame, really, she could be such a critical asset to us with her intelligence if she ever played ball."

Ted chortled. "Sounds like you have a crush on her and you're too shy to say it."

"I've seen her unclothed—not quite as much of a looker as she could be, in my opinion. I saw one of the juniors give her a look the other day, so maybe they'd be a good match, but no, not my type."

"You see the girls unclothed? Tell me about it next time—maybe I'm missing out on something after all!"

Jason waved his goodbye, his half-finished drink in hand, and everyone else slowly returned to their usual cheer. Jason hadn't crossed Ted's mind since he left Heller, but then again, a lot of his guests hadn't crossed his mind since then—and there were some new faces too. Ted had kept to himself at Heller, and very few outside his grade recognized him, but whenever someone did he'd exchange the usual pleasantries, and from their gossip he began to piece together a more whole vision of Heller. It wasn't all doom and gloom: there were better school lunches, cultural events, and improved Chromebooks. And sure, the Epsilons collected garbage, but they had learned to enjoy it, and some even were promoted to higher rankings.

It was when everyone suddenly started showing up in businesswear that Ted began to wonder if something more were going on at Heller than his guests' perpetual malaise indicated. He'd love to wear suits to work. They projected confidence and wealth, confidence being something sorely needed by many of his guests. It was not in Ted's business to pry into his guests' lives if they didn't ask him to, and if they didn't pay appropriately, and so he waited, forming his own judgments, until someone came along who was able to tell him about it. Behrooz fit the bill, and this time he brought Beth, who stood behind him and smiled. It was the first time Ted had seen her since he had left Heller.

"Nice to see you again, and look, a VIP guest! I hope you like what I've done with the place, Beth."

"It's very nice," Beth responded.

"Beth and I would like, well, what do we want? Isn't that your job as bartender to know?"

"I know you like your Thai tea, Behrooz, and for Beth, I remember this one time we were at the rose garden in the park and you said how much you love roses—so this is one recipe that works really well, I've seen, with rosewater, cardamom, and pistachio. It's very Middle Eastern."

"It's very Persian, that's what it is!" Behrooz interjected.

"It's very good, and that's what matters. You'll love it. So anyway, what's new at school? Is looking like an investment banker trendy, or is this another one of Frank's ideas?"

Behrooz shook his head. "This was all him, Juliet, and Ms. Foster. One time I heard it was because Ms. Foster's son went to Catholic school and she thought it bred discipline, the next time it was because Juliet thought Frank looked cute in a suit, the next time it was something else. I don't even know anymore. At least I look good."

"So which is it, Beth?" Ted asked. "You're still friends with Juliet, I hope. Kind Juliet, sweet Juliet, gullible Juliet?"

"Don't call her gullible—we all make mistakes."

"When I make mistakes, I don't blunder myself into becoming vice president of a cult," Ted shot back. "It's human nature, anyway. I forgive her. She should come for a drink."

"Anyway, Ted, we're friends still. She's busy, so we don't hang out much outside of cheer practice, but she's happy. And to answer your question, she never told me about the dress code, but if she and Frank want the school to play dress-up that's entirely their right. They won the election and deserve it. Right, Behrooz, my dear?"

"We live in a free country," he said.

"This may come as a surprise to both of you, but I miss Heller sometimes. It sounds like I'm missing out on a lot of fun. Maybe if I had stayed, I'd get to walk around with a club beating Epsilons or whatever it is an Alpha is supposed to do."

"Heller's a dump. You live a better life here," Beth said. "You make your own money, get paid to do what you love, and you can make your own decisions."

"As soon as I save up enough money for college, I'm done here. I work 80 hours a week. It's not draining work, but it's a lot. I love this job—I love working under Mr. Zhu and also managing others—but it makes me miss the old days, when I could sit around and do nothing all day and nobody stopped me."

"That's very respectable, Ted," Behrooz said. "I hope you find your way. Thanks again for the drinks."

"Anything for my favorite guests."

The year went on, and from Ted's perspective, nothing changed. His customers kept coming, always with new tales of woe, and they kept giving him large tips. The one time he visited Heller, he had done nothing but watch Tom sulk. He wasn't one to be sentimental, but there was something about seeing Heller that had brought back memories—times he had cut class, teased Alan, or made snide remarks at Ms. Wolfe's expense. If he hadn't left to chart his own path, he would have had another year of those experiences, experiences he could otherwise never reclaim. But at the same time, if his guests were to believed, the Heller he knew was gone, erased by an overambitious Frank and Juliet. He missed something he could never have again—there was probably a word for that Ted didn't know.

By the time Heller had its graduation, Ted had secured enough money for college, and most of all, a plan away from the Bay Area, at least for the time being. He had arranged with Mr. Zhu to end his position while he went to college, and for the last time saw him at the end of his Sunday shift.

"Promise me, Ted, you will come back here and buy the place sometime. We can't do without you," Mr. Zhu said.

"I trained your employees well. They will manage without me just fine, and if they don't, it's not my fault."

"You don't have to call me Mr. Zhu or boss anymore. Call me Rick."

"I hope I see you again, then, Rick, and it's when I'm holding a suitcase full of cash to buy your business."

"I hope so too. There's a saying in Chinese, 'a journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step,' and I wish you luck on your new journey."

"No luck, just skill."

Ted then walked off into the sunset, reveling in his private cinematic moment, ready for his new life.

Discussion Questions:

What style/homage is present in this chapter, and what's adapted it to the setting of Heller High?

How does Ted benefit from the chaos that's simultaneously happening at Heller during senior year? Are there ways he's hurt by it?

What do characters tell Ted that they don't tell other people?