The Alloys of the Blend

Chapter 8

Evie pushed on the door, stepping into the coffeehouse. She craned her neck to see how many people were around. A few tables were occupied, but not many for a Monday night. Going up to the register, she took out a few coins and ordered a cloudberry frappe, extra whipped cream. Finding a secluded corner, she placed the placard down on the table and with a sigh, she awaited her order to be brought out by him.

The cashier had given her a twisted look after she requested that Doug bring out her order. She hoped the freshman hadn't given him any identifying information. After a quick glance out of the large windows, the sky was beginning to darken. She pulled out her phone and just as she read Carlos' text that wished her luck, the sound of footsteps increased in pitch. She turned her head and avoided his eyes. Doug looked the same—hair pinned up, apron on, round glasses.

"Cloudberry frappe," Doug said, breathing out a heavy sigh. He set down the tray and Evie jumped at her chance.

"I am so sorry..." Evie said, looking up at him. Doug's head fell and his eyes focused on the tray in his hands. He gripped the metal tray to the point of his knuckles slowly turning white. His tongue refused to move, his mouth dry.

"Me too," he muttered, almost stepping over his own feet to turn around.

"Doug?" Evie called, turning her head around, looking over the top of the booth. He stopped walking for a second, but his feet continued toward the kitchen.

Evie's stomach gurgled, having not eaten all day. Partly out of nervousness and guilt, but also because she hadn't gotten around to it. The frappe was supposed to have covered at least a third of her calorie intake, but her appetite was gone.

Stirring the thick straw around the dome lid, Evie licked some of the whipped cream off. With the cream came even more guilt. Imagining her mother walking into the shop and seeing the cup full of sugar and fat, Evie wanted to throw it out. She slumped in the booth, her mind racing. She tapped her nails on the table and drew doodles across the surface.

As she heard footsteps again, she turned her head and noticed a few Auradon Prep students leaving a booth. She glanced at the windows, the street lamps slowly starting to shine.

"Cauldrons," she muttered. Pressing the side of her phone, the time lit up and she realized The Daily Blend was twenty minutes to closing. Having forgotten their early closing hours during finals week, Evie slung her bag over her shoulder. She left the back room and almost ran into Fern.

The woman was squatting, picking up napkins and wrappers that had got away. Greg was at the register, taking a to-go order. She made eye contact with Greg who quickly looked away and attended to the customer's coins. Fern didn't look up, instead turning away from Evie to stand. She dumped the trash, and turned back to where Evie awkwardly stood.

"Can I help you?"

"Oh, I wanted to know if I could talk to Do—"

"He already left. It was a long weekend," Fern mentioned, looking around the place. The lights in the back room turned out and she looked past Evie to get a glimpse of two student workers. Directing her attention back to Evie, she sighed.

"Want a ride? I bet whatever you wanted to tell him I could pass along," she suggested, Evie's face heating up.

Only nodding her head, Evie followed Fern's gesture to come into the kitchen. They passed by Greg who closed the cash register and raised a brow. Fern waved a hand at him and he shrugged. Confused by their nonverbal communication, Evie didn't ask, but Fern picked up her curiosity.

"Just something we do in the family. It's pretty easy to read people."

Evie followed the woman outside and to the grey compact hybrid parked along the side of the brick building. She felt like she was walking on eggshells despite the alleyway being cobblestone. Fern already knew what kind of a person she had been, especially toward her nephew. Yet, she still offered a ride.