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Lunch

The cafe is crowded when I step inside, but Leslie's blue hair stands out in the sea of people. She sees me by the door and waves me over.

"Isn't this place the cutest?" she gushes. I nod. "I wanted to wait until you got here before I ordered. Oh! Have you had their chicken salad?"

"No," I say and slip into the vinyl booth. "I've only ever ordered an iced coffee."

"You have to try it. Maryann makes it in house, and puts it on the cutest little croissants." She slides a paper menu to me.

I glance at it, but I already know I'm going to try her suggestion. "That's what I'll order then."

"If you're in the mood for something sweet, I definitely recommend a danish. Any of the flavors are good, but my personal favorite is the cherry and cream cheese."

A very pregnant brunette makes her way to our table. Her baby blue pinstriped apron stretches across her stomach. "Y'all ready to order?" she asks with a smile. She pulls a pad from her apron pocket and poises a pen over it.

"Sure," Leslie says through her smile. "I'll have a grilled cheese, without the pickle spear, please, and a cherry danish."

The brunette scribbles on the pad, then turns to me. "What about you, ma'am?"

"I'll take the chicken salad croissant, and some peach cobbler, please."

She writes on her pad, then asks, "And what will y'all be drinkin' today?"

"I'll have a sweet tea, no lemon," Leslie tells her.

"Give me the same, but with lemon."

The brunette smiles at us and rips the paper from the pad. "Okay, I'll put it in. My name is Emily, if y'all need anything."

"Thanks, Emily," I smile at her. I watch her walk behind the counter to what I assume is the kitchen.

"She gets around great for someone in her condition," Leslie whispers to me.

"She really does," I agree. "I wonder how much longer she has to go?"

"Well, a couple weeks ago she told me she was seven and a half months along. So not much longer."

"Poor girl, she doesn't look much older than us. And I bet her feet have to be killing her, working here."

Leslie nods, then motions for me to lean in closer. "What's even worse," she whispers, "is that the father skipped town shortly after she found out. No one's seen or heard from him since. Not even his parents." She sits back up and sends me a knowing look as Emily places our teas in front of us.

"There y'all go," Emily says. "I've got your order in. It should be ready shortly."

"Who would have guessed Likely would have town drama," I say once Emily is out of earshot.

Leslie smirks. "Stick around long enough, and you'll find that everyone knows everyone's business. Even things you don't want them to know."

The words aren't meant to be a threat, but they sound an awful like one to someone who has to hide her entire life.

**********

"Wanna hang out with me at the library for a bit?" Leslie asks as we step out of the cafe and into the bright October sunshine.

"Sure," I tell her. "But won't you get in trouble?"

She shakes her head, sending her blue curls flying. "Nah. It's a Tuesday. We don't have much going on, anyway."

My phone dings in my purse.

"You got a phone!" Leslie squeals before I can even pull my cell from my bag.

"Yeah," I tell her. "I got it yesterday." I find my phone and look at it. It's a text from Cal: where r u?

I fire off a text to Cal. At the library with Leslie. Be back soon. xoxo.

"Want my number?" Leslie asks me when I'm done. "Now that you've joined the twenty first century again," she teases.

I laugh and hand her my phone. She puts her number in, and I notice she's added a blue heart next to her name in my contacts. Fitting.

We walk into the library. The quiet is a stark contrast from the bustle of the street outside.

"Do you need me to help you with anything?" I whisper to Leslie.

"Not right now, I don't think," she answers at normal volume, making me jump. "Sorry," she says, her voice lower now. "Using my library voice is hard after lunch."

I giggle and sit down in an office chair behind the desk. I breathe in the smell of books and sigh. I miss my extensive collection I'd had back home, books arranged on shelves by favorites, read, and to be read.

"If you want, you can help me put these returns back on the shelves." Leslie nods to the books on a wheeled metal cart. She must have taken my sigh as one of boredom. "They've already been scanned. I guess you know how to use the Dewey Decimal System?"

"I do."

"Okay, well, just wheel the cart around and put them back on the shelves. Thanks a bunch!" The phone rings, and she answers it. I try not to giggle at her professional phone voice as I wheel the cart around the desk and start sorting books.

I'm in the teen fiction section when my phone dings. I tuck the book in my hands under my arm and turn the ringer off, then check to see who's texted me.

Unknown Number. Attachment: 3 Images.

Weird. I press the text with my fingertip to open it.

The book under mt arm falls to the floor as I clamp my hand over my mouth to stifle the scream bubbling in my throat.

Three pictures. One of me, seated in the booth with Leslie, taken through the window of the cafe. One of me, standing in front of the library with Leslie.

The last one is the most horrifying one.

It's me, in the teen fiction section, a book in my hand, taken from behind me through a space between books.

As I stare at the pictures in shock, another text comes through.

Watch your back!!