noticed some other girls about her age making their way down the sidewalk on the other side of the street. Silently she prayed the coffee shop wasn’t too busy yet.
Grace parallel parked between an old beater and a nicer late model sports coupe. She preferred parking along Orchard Street, which was only a few buildings down from Latté Da’s, because it wasn’t nearly as busy and she’d rather not chance a scratch on the Shelby. She chanced a quick glance at Emily as she turned off the ignition, waiting for the outburst she knew would come. Emily hated that she always parked so far away from everything and inevitably would pout to be sure that Grace knew it. When Emily reluctantly moseyed out of the car, her exaggerated expulsion of breath pulled her shoulders nearly to her ears.
Grace snickered. “The walk’s good for you.”
“Good for you, maybe,” Emily said while holding out a foot sporting a sexy, strappy high heel. “But definitely not good for the feet.”
She knew Emily didn’t do it on purpose, but every time she drew attention to her flashy heels, Grace couldn’t help but look down to the boring flats always on her own feet. Flats became an everyday essential in junior high when she shot past most of the girls and guys in height. What’s worse was she was still way taller than average, but only seemed to attract the shorter-than-average guys. All the guys that wouldn’t make her feel like a giant were into girls barely five feet tall. Girls like Emily. Grace knew it wasn’t fair to hate Emily for her perfect petite size, but sometimes she couldn’t help indulging in a secret I-hate-my-best-friend pity party. And enjoying it.
From the corner of her eye, her gaze went from Emily’s sexy shoes to her shiny pink lips. With a deep breath, Grace pulled her shoulders back and focused on standing up straight like her mother nagged so often for her to do. Grace brushed off her irritation, and led Emily down the sidewalk by the elbow.
Latté Da’s wasn’t full by any means, but there were just enough teens to make it feel busy. Grace breathed in deeply, thankful for the lack of coffee drinkers this morning. She didn’t feel like being upbeat, nor did she feel like talking to anyone but Emily. “You sure you’re up for this?” Emily asked.
“Yeah. I’ll be fine.” Grace pasted on a wan smile and followed her inside.
When the door shut, a charged, buzz-like chatter swirled around them. Grace recognized most everyone in the place, with only a few exceptions. The chalkboard welcome sign just inside the door listed both the house specials of the day and the scheduled night’s entertainment, and she stopped to check it out. Every Friday, Saturday, and Sunday night showcased different entertainment at the coffee shop, whether it was a poetry reading, a magic show, or singing. Something was always happening. Tonight? Emily’s boyfriend’s band, Distant Echo, was on tap. “Oh, look at that, Em. Tommy’s playing tonight.” Instantly, she eyed Emily’s lips. She knew it.
Emily’s eyes bugged a little and her jaw nearly unhinged. “Well, look at that. He is,” Emily squealed. Grace hid her smile at Emily’s theatrics. Her best friend’s overdramatic expressions were part of her charm, and she’d learned to not only expect them, but usually found them entertaining enough to sometimes provoke them, like now. She’d also come to learn what Emily’s choice of lip gloss flavor meant. Strawberries and cream signified a happy day, happy meaning it involved Tommy somehow. “You should come with me tonight,” Emily went on. “You need the break.”
“Maybe,” Grace said.
Emily smiled. “Maybe you should.” She waggled her eyebrows wickedly and swiveled around with a flick of her dark ponytail, narrowly missing swiping Grace’s nose with it as she stepped up to the counter to place her order.
As Emily went into a long dissertation about her coffee to the barista, the voices all around Grace rang louder in her ears, and the floor seemed to tilt sideways. A panic fluttered inside her chest, and inexplicably her thoughts shifted to her birthday. Grace felt a heavy mantle of burden settle on her shoulders. The letter her grandfather wrote her had left her nervous. Beyond nervous. She realized she was about to have a panic attack in the middle of a coffee shop when a sudden feeling overcame her, a certainty that something serious was going to happen within the next couple of weeks. Her breath