Eavesdrop

Eavesdropper

Claire adjusted her uniform cap, pulling it low enough to shield her face. She hated the fluorescent lights in the diner. They made everything too bright, too real. Still, it was a job, and in a small town like Benson Hollow, jobs didn’t come easy. It wasn’t much, but it paid for rent on her crumbling trailer, plus the occasional indulgence of a scratch-off lottery ticket.

She leaned on the counter, the morning rush finally thinning out. Only a handful of patrons lingered—old-timers nursing coffee, a couple at the corner booth whispering too close for decency, and a pair of high school girls seated at the far end. Claire recognized them immediately: Jessica Tate and her best friend, Amber.

Jessica had that perfect small-town princess aura about her—the shiny hair, expensive jeans that somehow weren’t available at Benson Hollow Mall, and the air of someone who was absolutely sure of her place in the world. Claire didn’t dislike her, exactly, but she wasn’t blind to the fact that Jessica never tipped. Amber was quieter, tagging along like a shadow.

Claire busied herself with wiping down the counter, but her ears perked up when she caught a snippet of their conversation.

“Did you see what she posted on Facebook?” Jessica’s voice carried across the diner, louder than it needed to be.

Amber giggled nervously. “Who, Claire?”

Claire froze, the rag in her hand hovering above the counter.

“Yeah,” Jessica said, her voice dripping with mockery. “She posted some quote about how strong women don’t need anyone. Like, sweetie, we’ve all seen your trailer. The only thing strong about it is the smell of mildew.”

Amber let out a half-hearted laugh, the kind you give when you’re unsure if it’s okay to join in.

Claire clenched her jaw, her hand tightening around the rag. It wasn’t the first time someone had made a comment about her living situation, but hearing it said out loud stung in a way she hadn’t expected. She stayed still, hidden behind the counter, her back turned to them.

Jessica kept going. “And did you see her uniform? God, that polyester must be older than she is. She probably thinks she’s doing us a favor by working here, like we should all clap for her.”

Amber mumbled something Claire couldn’t catch, but Jessica laughed, the sound sharp and mean.

Claire’s face burned. She wanted to march over there, toss their untouched coffees in their laps, and tell them exactly what she thought of their privileged little lives. But instead, she inhaled deeply, letting the bitterness sink into her chest.

Instead of confronting them, Claire walked into the kitchen, pretending to grab more napkins. She leaned against the wall, her heart pounding.

It wasn’t like she hadn’t heard worse. She’d grown up on the outskirts of town, in a family that couldn’t afford to hide its flaws behind white picket fences and manicured lawns. People had been whispering about her since grade school. About her hand-me-down clothes. About her dad, who drank too much. About her mom, who left one night and never came back.

She thought she’d gotten used to it.

But today, hearing Jessica and Amber, it felt personal in a way she hadn’t prepared for.

Back in the dining area, the bell above the door jingled, signaling a new customer. Claire took a steadying breath and returned to the counter, donning the fake smile she’d perfected over the years. She handed menus to the new arrival—a middle-aged man who looked like he’d seen too many road miles—and tried to ignore the girls.

But Jessica wasn’t done.

“You know what’s sad?” Jessica said, not even bothering to lower her voice. “She’s probably going to be here forever. Like, can you imagine working at a diner when you’re, what, 40?”

Amber shifted uncomfortably. “I mean… it’s not that bad. It’s a job, right?”

Jessica snorted. “Yeah, a job for people who didn’t bother trying. My dad always says people like her just didn’t work hard enough. That’s why they end up stuck in places like this.”

Claire gritted her teeth. She wanted to yell that she had tried. That she’d spent hours studying after her shifts in high school, dreaming of leaving Benson Hollow. But dreams didn’t pay the bills. And when her dad got sick, someone had to step up.

It wasn’t laziness. It was life.

Before she could stop herself, she grabbed the coffee pot and marched over to their table. She didn’t trust her voice to stay steady, so she didn’t say anything as she refilled their mugs.

Jessica looked up, a smug smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “Oh, thanks,” she said, her tone so sugary it could rot teeth.

Claire met her gaze, forcing her face to stay neutral. She set the pot down with a little more force than necessary. “Anything else?”

Jessica shook her head, still grinning. Amber avoided eye contact.

“Good,” Claire said, her voice calm but firm. She turned and walked away, her shoulders squared.

The girls didn’t stay much longer after that. When they left, Claire watched them through the diner’s wide window. Jessica sauntered to her shiny red car, tossing her hair over her shoulder like she was in some kind of commercial.

Claire turned back to the counter. The diner felt quieter without them, the kind of quiet that wrapped around you like a blanket.

She picked up the rag again, scrubbing the counter harder than she needed to.

It wasn’t fair, she thought. People like Jessica could glide through life, secure in the knowledge that they’d never have to scrub a counter or fold a greasy apron. And yet, somehow, they thought they had the right to judge.

But Claire knew something Jessica didn’t.

Jessica’s world—the shiny car, the expensive clothes, the confidence born from never knowing struggle—it was fragile. One bad day, one unexpected twist, and it could all come crashing down.

Claire’s world, on the other hand, was tough. It had to be.

And maybe, just maybe, that made her stronger than Jessica would ever be.