Page 40 of Cackle

“Good morning, sweetheart.” Rose is sitting at a table near the door, reading and drinking coffee out of a comically large mug. She’s wearing thick-rimmed round glasses and a beret. “How’d you like the jam?”

“I had some yesterday,” I say. “It’s great. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Miss Annie,” she says. “You’ll be back Saturday for more?”

“I will.”

“Good, good. Oskar, this girl’s a sweetheart.”

“Thanks, Rose,” I say. My entire face is blushing; I can feel it. My forehead. My chin. I can barely look at Oskar now. “Morning.”

“Morning, Annie. What can I get for you?”

“Um . . . can I have a large latte?”

“Any flavor? I can do vanilla, hazelnut, maple, cinnamon, honey, almond. I can do lavender, but that’s not for everyone. My son says it tastes like soap.”

“I like the taste,” I say. “Of lavender, not of soap. Though I haven’t tasted a lot of soaps, so who’s to say?”

Really, Annie? Really?

“I like lavender, too,” he says mercifully. “I usually do it with a little almond. I think it balances.”

“I’ll do that, then.”

“Coming up,” he says. He starts working the large fancy espresso machine.

“So, you’re a teacher?” he asks.

“Yes. English and ASL.” I don’t know how he knows. Someone must have told him. I guess it’s that small-town thing: News travels fast. Not that my profession is news, but . . .

“Erik goes to Aster. He’s a freshman.”

“Maybe he’ll be in my class next year.”

He pours the milk, moving his wrist to create a pattern. His eyebrows pinch together, and a strand of silver hair falls in his face.

He pushes the cup toward me.

“On me,” he says. “If you like it, come back again soon.”

“You’ll be back,” Rose says. “Oskar makes the best coffee.”

“Are you sure?” I ask. “I feel bad. I lived in the city, so I’m not used to this . . . this . . .”

“Small-town hospitality?” Oskar asks, stroking his scruff. He smiles. “Don’t worry about it. Enjoy.”

“Thank you so much,” I say, taking the cup. “Bye, Rose!”

“Bye, sweetheart. Have a good day.”

By the time I’m back in my car driving to school, my mood has done a complete one-eighty. It’s all sunshine. The rest of my morning, powered by a latte that tastes like heaven, is pleasant and easy. In my first few classes, everyone behaves.

At lunch, I eat alone in my classroom. I check my phone to see if Sam has reached out at all. He hasn’t, but I have a text from Nadia asking how I am.

Good, I say, and it doesn’t feel like a lie. Town is precious. People are nice. Met a new friend who is super glamorous and lives in a . How are you?

More glamorous than me? Bullshit. I’m good! Hot new history teacher. Mr. Collins. Rawr. I’ll send u a pic if I can get one.