for my phone and typed a text.
WTH? U didn’t txt me or anything after the cove. and ur w sophie now?
I watched Andy pull his phone from his front jeans pocket and read my text. He shot a furtive glance at Sophie, who was chattering away at Hannah and Genevieve, and started typing. A minute later, my phone chimed.
Sry. I don’t know how to explane but it’s just different now. mabe we can hang out sometime.
I raised an eyebrow and held my phone out to Ang so she could read Andy’s message.
“He’s an atrocious speller,” she remarked. “I wonder what he means by, ‘it’s just different now?’ It might help if we could, like, interview him about how he felt when he asked you out and how he feels now.”
I laughed. “But that would be totally weird , Ang.”
She smiled and gave me a light backhanded smack on my arm. “I know, but you know what I mean.”
The door jangled, and a guy—a senior from Tapestry High—came in.
“Blue cookie?” I whispered to Ang. “And what’s his name, anyway?”
“Scott something. Yeah, give him one.”
I quickly exchanged the container of yellow cookies for the container of blue ones. “Hey, what can we get started for you?” I said when he stopped in front of the register. “And please take a cookie. On the house.”
He absently picked up a blue cookie. “Medium latte, please.” I watched him as he dug some cash from his pocket. Wavy blonde hair, brown eyes. Not bad-looking, but not someone I’d probably notice in a crowd.
“Scott, right?” I said.
“Yeah. Corinne Finley?”
“Yep. Here you go.” I held out a couple of ones and some coins, and he stuck a dollar in the tip jar. I smiled. “Thank you.”
Ang and I watched Scott take his coffee and stuff the whole cookie in his mouth.
Andy, Sophie, and Sophie’s two minions departed not long after. Two junior girls came in together, and I gave them both blue cookies. Kaitlin came in and hung out with us for a while, and ate a couple of white cookies. I wanted to distribute more—it seemed like we hadn’t given out enough to get any real answers—but our shift was nearly over.
I closed down the till, and Ang cleaned up the espresso machine. Then she waited for me while I picked up to-go containers of lasagna from the café. Dad was in full-on charming restaurateur mode with the dinner crowd. He and Bradley were a lot alike that way—they’d talk to anyone who’d listen, and they were good at making people laugh—except Dad wasn’t an annoying attention whore.
Ang and I parted ways a couple of blocks down Main Street, where she headed toward her neighborhood. I turned onto Wild Rose, hugging the warm bag of lasagna to my chest, trying to decide if I should give out more cookies tomorrow.
After a couple of blocks, I felt a hand close around my upper arm. I yelped in surprise, dropped the bag of lasagna onto the sidewalk, and whirled around.
I came face-to-face with snake-eyed Harriet Jensen.
|| 11 ||
SHE SQUEEZED MY ARM harder, and I winced and threw my weight backward, trying to pull away, but her grip didn’t budge. I wanted to scream, but my breath seemed to die in my lungs.
“I’m coming home with you right now, and you’re going to give them to me.” Harriet smelled faintly of her shop—musty and herbaceous—and the smell made my nose tingle.
I swiveled my head, looking for someone who could help me or provide a distraction, but the street was deserted. We stood on a block with a stretch of weedy, empty lots on one side and a ditch on the other, and I realized she must have waited here for me, in a place where she could intercept me without anyone noticing.
“They’re gone,” I said. “I poured them out. Flushed them.”
“You’re lying,” she said, her voice low and her face pressed close to mine. The smell of her breath was familiar somehow—faintly rotten, dirty, smoky—and it filled me with dread. “The Pyxis would never do that.”
The pyxis ? The
WTH? U didn’t txt me or anything after the cove. and ur w sophie now?
I watched Andy pull his phone from his front jeans pocket and read my text. He shot a furtive glance at Sophie, who was chattering away at Hannah and Genevieve, and started typing. A minute later, my phone chimed.
Sry. I don’t know how to explane but it’s just different now. mabe we can hang out sometime.
I raised an eyebrow and held my phone out to Ang so she could read Andy’s message.
“He’s an atrocious speller,” she remarked. “I wonder what he means by, ‘it’s just different now?’ It might help if we could, like, interview him about how he felt when he asked you out and how he feels now.”
I laughed. “But that would be totally weird , Ang.”
She smiled and gave me a light backhanded smack on my arm. “I know, but you know what I mean.”
The door jangled, and a guy—a senior from Tapestry High—came in.
“Blue cookie?” I whispered to Ang. “And what’s his name, anyway?”
“Scott something. Yeah, give him one.”
I quickly exchanged the container of yellow cookies for the container of blue ones. “Hey, what can we get started for you?” I said when he stopped in front of the register. “And please take a cookie. On the house.”
He absently picked up a blue cookie. “Medium latte, please.” I watched him as he dug some cash from his pocket. Wavy blonde hair, brown eyes. Not bad-looking, but not someone I’d probably notice in a crowd.
“Scott, right?” I said.
“Yeah. Corinne Finley?”
“Yep. Here you go.” I held out a couple of ones and some coins, and he stuck a dollar in the tip jar. I smiled. “Thank you.”
Ang and I watched Scott take his coffee and stuff the whole cookie in his mouth.
Andy, Sophie, and Sophie’s two minions departed not long after. Two junior girls came in together, and I gave them both blue cookies. Kaitlin came in and hung out with us for a while, and ate a couple of white cookies. I wanted to distribute more—it seemed like we hadn’t given out enough to get any real answers—but our shift was nearly over.
I closed down the till, and Ang cleaned up the espresso machine. Then she waited for me while I picked up to-go containers of lasagna from the café. Dad was in full-on charming restaurateur mode with the dinner crowd. He and Bradley were a lot alike that way—they’d talk to anyone who’d listen, and they were good at making people laugh—except Dad wasn’t an annoying attention whore.
Ang and I parted ways a couple of blocks down Main Street, where she headed toward her neighborhood. I turned onto Wild Rose, hugging the warm bag of lasagna to my chest, trying to decide if I should give out more cookies tomorrow.
After a couple of blocks, I felt a hand close around my upper arm. I yelped in surprise, dropped the bag of lasagna onto the sidewalk, and whirled around.
I came face-to-face with snake-eyed Harriet Jensen.
|| 11 ||
SHE SQUEEZED MY ARM harder, and I winced and threw my weight backward, trying to pull away, but her grip didn’t budge. I wanted to scream, but my breath seemed to die in my lungs.
“I’m coming home with you right now, and you’re going to give them to me.” Harriet smelled faintly of her shop—musty and herbaceous—and the smell made my nose tingle.
I swiveled my head, looking for someone who could help me or provide a distraction, but the street was deserted. We stood on a block with a stretch of weedy, empty lots on one side and a ditch on the other, and I realized she must have waited here for me, in a place where she could intercept me without anyone noticing.
“They’re gone,” I said. “I poured them out. Flushed them.”
“You’re lying,” she said, her voice low and her face pressed close to mine. The smell of her breath was familiar somehow—faintly rotten, dirty, smoky—and it filled me with dread. “The Pyxis would never do that.”
The pyxis ? The
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