She gave me a funny look.
“I’m covering for someone,” I explained, earning a chorus ofohs. It would have been nice to end on that moment of perfect understanding, but the Contessa had already pulled out her wallet.
“How much do we owe you for the drinks?”
“Actually—”The machine is broken. We’re out of coffee. The city shut off our water supply.Excuses flitted through my consciousness, but in the end, I wasn’t bold enough for an outright lie. “I’ve never made coffee before. I could help you find books?”
I expected laugher, or at least mocking looks. Had Anjuli been there, her worst suspicions about my backwardness would have been confirmed.
“Well,” said the Contessa, “we were mostly looking for a quiet place to talk.”
“You’re welcome to stay.” I pressed my lips together, worried that had sounded too eager. Was I already turning into a lonely recluse, desperate for any vestige of human contact? “Or there’s a Starbucks on the next block,” I added, in the interest of fairness.
“We already tried there. It was packed. Not like this place.” The Contessa made Toil & Trouble’s lack of business sound like something that had been deliberately cultivated. “Hey, you know what?”
I shook my head.
“My cousin Stephanie’s geometry tutor was a barista.”
“Ah.” I tried to pitch it somewhere betweenI seeandhuh?
“She always brewed a bunch of shots ahead of time for iced drinks. It might be worth checking.” She nodded at the mini-fridge behind me, smoothing her fiery hair.
Inside, I found a carafe helpfully labeled “coffee,” as well as several quarts of milk, a bottle of chocolate syrup, and a can of aerosol whipped cream. A few minutes later, following a steady stream of advice from the other side of the counter, I had filled three tall glasses with a murky brown concoction.
The Contessa took a careful sip. “Delicious,” she pronounced, beaming at me. I flushed with pleasure as she nudged Madam CEO with her elbow. “I told you this place looked interesting. Very mellow vibe.”
“In my defense,” Madam countered, “the name sounded like a really extreme CrossFit place.”
“‘Double, double toil and trouble. Fire burn and cauldron bubble.’” I realized a little more context might be required. “FromMacbeth. That’s where they got the name. Because of the cauldron and, you know, coffee. Not that they brew it in a cauldron. As far as I know.” The name also reflected Noreen’s general outlook on life, but that seemed like inessential information.
“Ooh,” said the Contessa. “Fancy.” She raised her drink toward the tiny seating area. “Okay if we sit there?”
I shrugged. Competition wasn’t exactly fierce.
She slid a ten and a five across the counter. “Keep the change,” she said, sparing me the shame of explaining I didn’t know how to operate the cash register either.
After tucking the money into a drawer, I put away the drink-making paraphernalia and wiped down the counter. Even though I wasn’t an actual employee, the presence of customers made me self-conscious about twiddling my thumbs. Tantalizing snatches of conversation drifted from the other side of the room like a distant strain of music.
—You had no idea?
That sounds like something he would—
—I would havedied.You are solucky.
No, I know. He’s completely—
It was frustratingly opaque, especially since the Contessa was so animated in her speech, face in constant motion as she leaned toward the other two. I was sure they must be discussing something scintillating. What I did manage to glean was that the redhead and the blonde had been friends much longer. They spoke over each other like siblings, whereas both took pains to be polite with the Beauty, drawing her into the conversation with a series of questions.
Questions about what, though? I edged closer. My hands made a pretense of returning pens to the chipped mug next to the phone, straightening a stack of mail, brushing dust off a shelf. It wasn’t spying so much as trying to piece together a story. Nor was it only the mystery that drew me in. I was a moth to their flame, fascinated by the brightness they gave off. How would it feel to be part of a group of friends who were genuinely excited to spend time with you? To have things to talk about, and people to discuss them with who didn’t roll their eyes every time you asked a question?
“Alex Freaking Ritter,” the Crimson Contessa sighed. Absorbed as I had been in a fantasy of hanging out with my own illusory friends, a second passed before I processed the words. My body went rigid as the Contessa spoke again.
“Your first day at MHS and the hottest guy in school asks you out.” She raised both hands, fingers fanned, as she fake-bowed to the Beauty. “You areen fuego! Did I say that right?”
I’d never thought of myself as a gasper, but I must have gasped then, because all three girls turned to stare. A sticky silence ensued, flooding the room with tension despite the soporific flute music still playing in the background.
“Is everything okay?” the Contessa asked at last.
