“Guys,” I said, glancing through my windshield to the coffee shop. “There’s nothing else. This is my best shot.”
“I’m pretty sure this is how kidnapping movies begin,” said Toby. “And there’s that scene where the girl is going to meet the person who’s going to kidnap her and her friends are like ‘No, don’t do it,’ but she does it anyway.”
“Well, otherwise there would be no movie,” Bri pointed out. “But Toby is actually making a point.”
“What do you mean actually?” Toby asked, sounding offended.
“I don’t like that you don’t know what this job is,” Bri said.
“Mmm-hmm,” Palmer agreed.
I let out a breath as I smoothed down my dress. I didn’t love it either, but I really was out of options. In the two days since I’d found out I wouldn’t be attending the Young Scholars Program, I had tried everything I could to line up something for the summer. I’d been practically laughed out of the career office at school when I’d explained I was looking for something for this summer. None of my other leads had panned out—the parents of the kid looking for a tutor realized pretty quickly that my French wasn’t up to par; I could handle my own computer, but couldn’t code or work within multiple operating systems; and when I’d called about it, the mother’s helper gig had already been filled—which I was actually fine with, since I didn’t love little kids. Finally, I’d called the vaguely worded listing, and the girl who’d answered—her name was Maya—had seemed thrilled to get my call and only too happy to meet whenever was convenient for me, causing my pyramid-knife-scheme sensors to move to high alert. After we’d agreed to meet at Flask’s (my favorite coffee shop and the place where I acquired my daily iced latte) and settled on the time, she’d said good-bye before I could find out what, exactly, this job was.
“Look,” I said, after pulling the phone away from my ear for a moment to check the time. “We’re meeting at a coffee shop. I’ll call as soon as it’s over. It’ll be fine.”
“Hmm,” Palmer said.
“I don’t know,” Toby sighed.
“Aren’t you at work?” I asked her. “How are you able to spend this much time lecturing me?”
“I’m just being a caring friend,” Toby said, her voice rising, “and—” There was a pause, and when Toby came back she was speaking much lower. “Actually, gotta go. Call me later. Don’t get kidnapped.”
“Me too,” Palmer whispered. “Call me.”
“Bri?” I asked, after they’d both hung up.
“Still here.”
“You don’t think I have anything to worry about, do you?”
“Nah,” Bri said easily. “Putting a flyer up at the diner is a super-inefficient way to go about kidnapping someone.”
“Thanks, B. I’ll call you later.” Bri said good-bye, and I hung up and took a breath before carefully stepping out of the car. I was wearing one of my best dresses—blue, with a tight-fitting bodice and slightly flared skirt—along with heels and light, tasteful makeup. I’d printed out a copy of my résumé on thick paper stock and was carrying it in a folder so it wouldn’t get bent on my way inside.
I stepped inside and looked around. The place was half-filled, mostly with people typing on laptops and groups of moms with strollers. There was a girl who looked like she was in her mid-twenties, but my eyes skipped over her until I realized she was smiling big at me and waving. “Andie?”
I nodded, my hopes plummeting as I made my way over to her table. “Hi,” I said, holding out my hand, feeling myself inwardly groan as she stood up to shake my hand. Her blond hair had pink tips, and she was dressed casually—jean shorts, tank top, sneakers. Even though it was the very beginning of summer, she was already tan, with tattoos that peeked out from under her tank top straps and twisted up her ankles like vines.
“I’m Maya,” she said, smiling at me, revealing slightly crooked teeth. If she thought anything about the fact that I was either seriously overdressed or she was underdressed, it didn’t show. She took a seat, and I sat across from her, trying to hide the disappointment on my face as I took my résumé out of the folder and slid it across the table to her.
She looked at it while she took a sip of her blended drink, the kind with whipped cream and sprinkles that always seemed more like milk shakes to me than anything else. (I kept this opinion to myself around Palmer, though, who was addicted to the mint java chip flavor.) While she was reading it over, I pulled out my phone and sent a quick text to my friends. Normally, I never would have done this during an interview, but it was clear to me already this wasn’t an interview that was going to matter.
ME
All fine. Nothing to worry about.