She wiped her hands on her gingham-print apron before reaching out to shake mine. “Hi, Clara, I’m Kat, the owner of Gouda Done Worse.”
Ohmy. No, Kat, you gouda NOT done worse.
Keeping a smile plastered on my face, I shook Kat’s hand. “Hi, Kat.”
Kat grinned at me, and her eyes swept over the truck. “Adrian told us that you’d be manning the KoBra today. Pretty impressive.”
Before I could respond, another blond girl who looked exactly like Kat stepped down from Gouda Done Worse. “Hi, Clara! I’m Kat’s sister, Sarah!” Twins.
And then a man-bun-sporting Middle Eastern guy popped his head out from the udon truck. “Oh heeeey, it’s the KoBra’s heir!” For Pete’s sake. Yet again, it was likeMister Rogers’ Neighborhoodup in here.
After some introductions with Rose, I realized very quickly that my dad had prepped everyone beforehand—there was this forced oh-so-casual nature to how they were all checking up on us.
And it was nice, because it got busy, fast. The truck grew hotter as we hustled our orders for a while. Then a familiar voice called out, ringing through the noise in the truck.
“Surprise, Rosie!”
I turned around to see Rose’s parents and a little kid, who I could only assume was her brother, at the order window.
“Hey!” Rose said with a huge smile. “What are you guys doing here?”
Rose’s dad’s voice boomed into the truck, and to everyone within earshot. “We’re here to see our gorgeous daughter at her first real summer job!” I could hear Rose’s mom laugh.
Rose dropped her face into her hands, but she was still smiling when she looked up again. I wiped my hands on my apron and walked over to the window. “Hi,” I said with a wave.
“HI, CLARA!” The kid waved back. “I’m Jessie!” He was wearing a Pikachu hat. And was about two feet tall with a lisp and missing front tooth. Basically, the cutest kid alive.
“Hey, Jessie, what do you guys wanna order? This is usually Rose’s job, but she seems to have turned into a robot momentarily.”
Jessie’s eyes widened. “Wait… no, not really, right?”
I shrugged. “I dunno, we’ll have to see if she reboots.”
“Like when Grandma uses Windows.”
I burst out laughing and nodded my head. “Yes, exactly like that.”
Rose’s mom smiled at me from under her large, stylish straw hat. She was wearing a breezy caftan cinched at the waist and strappy gold sandals—like she belonged in a fashion magazine spread titled “Look chic during your farmers market run!”
“Hi there, Clara. May we please get one lombo, one picanha, and two pasteis? Also, two lime sugarcane juices?” she asked.
“I want my own juice!” Jessie pleaded.
Rose’s mom looked down at him. “Excuse me?”
He gulped. “I mean, please can I have my own juice?”
“Yes, you may. One for you, one for me. Daddy’s going to drink water,” Rose’s mom said while pulling some cash out of her wallet.
I gave her some change. “Thank you, it should be ready in a few minutes.”
Jessie came up to the window on tippy-toe, and Rose’s dad lifted him so that Jessie was eye level with me. “Nice to meet you, Clara.” Then he held out his hand.
I took the sticky little hand in mine and shook it solemnly. “Nice to meet you, too, Jessie.”
Rose stuck her head out the window. “I can’t hang out, unfortunately. I have to work.”
Rose’s dad winked. “Got it, Rosie. We’re here to support you in this new chapter of your life. Even if it is a punishment.”
