CoffeeHouse Angel

by Suzanne Selfors

  It was the nicest gift ever.

  The school bus passed by. I quickly hung the dress in my room, zipped up my parka, and grabbed my backpack. But just as I was about to leave, someone knocked on the front door. A group of Japanese tourists stood outside, pressing their faces against the window.

  "Yes? May I help you?" I asked, opening the door.

  One of the tourists shook my hand. "Ratcatcher? Ratcatcher live here?"

  "Ratcatcher!" another cried, pointing. She sat on the corner table, cleaning one of her paws, oblivious to her fans.

  "Um, we're closed," I said.

  They pushed their way in. "We take picture with famous cat?"

  "I'm sorry," I said, "but we're closed. I've got to get to school."

  "We take picture." And they started taking pictures, posing with Ratcatcher, smiling and laughing, totally thrilled by the moment. One of them held up a little rubber rat, but Ratcatcher ignored it. I let them do their thing for a few minutes. How often does a person get to meet the most famous cat in the world?

  "I have to go," I told them, pointing at the clock. They nodded and filed out. One of them handed me a twenty-dollar bill, then bowed. I tried to give it back, but he just kept bowing. "Money for the photos. Thank you."

  Storm clouds rolled across the sky. There wasn't time to walk, so I jumped into the Buick, which took forever to warm up. Up the hill I drove. The road was still wet from last night's rain. Sometime during the weekend, the old Java Heaven billboard had been replaced by a spanking new Java Heaven billboard, this one shaped like a big coffee cup that had Vincent's face on it.

  Coffee and a Hometown Hero, a Match Made in Heaven-- Java Heaven.

  What did it matter anymore? Mr. Darling had won. He was supreme. He had taken our business and my best friend. He should get an award or something.

  On my way to Monday assembly, lots of students asked me about Ratcatcher--kids I'd never spoken to before, which narrows it down to just about everyone. A few of them wanted her autograph--a paw print, I guessed. They wanted to take a picture with her to put on their blogs. She was still all the rage on the Internet. I said I'd get back to them. I told them I'd set up a time when they could come down to see her. Maybe not.

  We'd probably be Florida-bound by then.

  Elizabeth sat in the usual spot on the bleachers, her shoulders hunched, an orange hat pulled over her eyebrows. "How's Anna?"

  I squeezed in next to her, setting my backpack between my feet. "I'm going to call her at break. She's supposed to have more tests this morning. Why are you sitting like that?"

  "I don't want him to see me."

  "Face?"

  "He didn't call. He had all weekend to call and he didn't. I hate him." She pulled the hat lower.

  "You should just ask someone else."

  "Why? So I can get rejected by another loser? Forget it." She laid her head on my shoulder. "I'll help you at the coffeehouse, like I did last year. I don't need to go to the stupid festival."

  "The coffeehouse won't be open for the festival. Mr. Darling is going to give us some money to close the business. Then he'll expand Java Heaven."

  "Oh, I'm sorry. Well, then we can go to Solstice together."

  "Um, there's something you should know." I couldn't believe I was about to say what I was about to say. "I kind of have a date."

  Elizabeth sat up straight, as if someone had pinched her. "What? Who with?"

  I lowered my voice. I didn't want any more gossip crawling around school. "With Malcolm."

  "No way." She ripped off her hat. Her hair sparked with static.

  I pressed closer to her. "He has wings on his ankles."

  "Oh. My. God."

  We huddled. "All sorts of weird things have happened since he showed up, things I haven't even told you about. It's not just that Vincent got fortune and Ratcatcher got fame, but when Lars wanted some dignity he got it and when a lady at the bus stop wanted coffee, she got that. And Irmgaard got some kind of message, but she won't open it and I can't even lift it because it weighs a ton and it's just a piece of paper. And Grandma wanted me to get a new dress and there it was, sitting in the kitchen this morning."

  "But what about you?" Elizabeth whispered. "You're supposed to get what you most desire. Remember?"

  "He won't give me another bean. Not yet. He said he needs to make sure I ask for what I truly desire or he'll get into trouble. Demoted or something."

  "Hey, Coffeehouse Girl," Aaron said, sticking his fat head between us. "Heard you've been serving rat crap."

  "Shut up, Aaron." Elizabeth jabbed him with her elbow. Then she leaned over to tie her red high-tops. I leaned with her. "I knew he was an angel the minute I saw him.

  He's way too handsome to be human. Do you think he'd let me paint him? What are you going to wish for?"

  From the center of the gym, Principal Carmichael made some announcements about stuff that wasn't important. When you're contemplating your chance to make a wish that might actually come true, things like locker inspections and parking permits seem totally trivial. Elliott rushed out and dealt with the shrieking microphone. Then, as usual, Heidi Darling had something to say. She quieted everyone with a staccato clearing of her throat. "Okay, so those of you who volunteered to help with the festival decorations, the theme this year is Snowflake Serenade. We have lots of snowflakes to make, so meet Vincent and me at Java Heaven this afternoon at four thirty."

  My stomach lurched. His treachery was complete.

  Twenty-four

  Vincent Hawk, best friend since the fourth grade, might as well have stuck a knife into my heart. Not only was he going to step foot inside Java Heaven that very afternoon at four thirty, he was going to hang out there and do crafts. So what if we were going to close our coffeehouse? He didn't know that. So what if Java Heaven wasn't going to be our competitor anymore? I'd still hate that place and I'd still expect my friends not to be one of its customers. That's not a lot to ask. It's not like you can't buy coffee everywhere these days.

  "Tell your parents and friends to buy Vincent Mochas, because ten percent goes back to the Nordby swim team," Heidi said, still standing at the microphone. Then she punched the air. "Gooooooo, Nordby Otters!"

  He broke his promise because of her. So what if she was cute and could swim? How could he stand all that perkiness? How could everything have changed so much in one short week? If I wished for it all to go away, would everything go back to normal?

  Maybe that's what I most desired.

  Heidi bounded back to the bleachers and sat next to Vincent. She was about to plant a kiss on his cheek, but he stopped her and said something. She frowned and said something back. He turned away. What have we here? Trouble in paradise? I savored the moment.

  While I avoided Vincent on the way out of the gym, Elizabeth avoided Face. I took a moment to call my grandmother. "You should see all the flowers. It looks like someone died," she said, her words a bit slurred. She was probably on pain medication. "Vincent and his father sent a lovely bouquet. The Boys came in. I haven't seen Irmgaard, though. Poor thing. She's probably upset about having to find another job."

  "How are you feeling?" I asked.

  "Don't worry about me. Did you talk to Mr. Darling yet?"

  "No. I'm going to do it after school."

  "Good. Tell him that we'll discuss the details when I'm discharged."

  "Grandma--"

  "Now Katrina, don't try to change my mind. There's more to this than you realize. It's time to move on."

  Mr. Prince had shoved an envelope into my locker. Katrina, Here are the results of your aptitude test. Come in to discuss. I stuffed it into my backpack. If I went to his office, he'd ask me about my checklist, which, except for Elizabeth's additions, I had neglected to fill out. I still didn't have anything to put on it, except maybe Owner of the World's Most Famous Cat, or Ex-friend of Nordby's Hometown Hero. I know what would look really good on the list-- Dating an Angel.

  We had a substitute in World
Mythology and she sent us to the library. The librarian cornered Vincent, asking him all sorts of questions about his scholarship. I found an empty aisle at the back and sat on the floor. Maybe I could pass the entire class without having to talk to him. I didn't want to hear his excuse for breaking his promise. He'd say something like, "You're not the boss of me," and I'd say something like, "Oh yeah, well whatever," and it would slide downhill from there.

  Elliott wandered into my sanctuary. "This is the business/technology section," he informed me, as if I might be lost.

  "Yeah, I know. Maybe I like technology." I pulled a book off the shelf and pretended to read it.

  Elliott shrugged, then chose a book and sat on the floor. "I liked your story about the potato farmer." He cleaned his glasses with his striped rugby shirt. "Though I didn't understand the ending. The girl's neighbor bought a new tractor and updated his potato packaging, but why did the girl give up? I'm sure there were ways she could have competed."

  I looked up from my fake reading. "Huh?"

  "She could have done a marketing survey to find out what types of potatoes the customers preferred. She could have researched the latest hybrids to find higher yielding potatoes, giving her an advantage at market. There are small business loans and--"

  "It doesn't matter, Elliott. It was just a stupid story."

  "Okay." He put on his glasses. "Hey, can I ask your opinion?"

  I'd never had a real conversation with Elliott, even though we'd been in school together forever. He was on the small side, as if puberty hadn't quite caught up with him. He seemed perfectly nice, and since my pool of friends had dwindled down to ONE, I figured it would be a good idea to start talking to more people. "Sure. Ask away."

  He pulled out a familiar piece of paper and scooted closer. "Have you filled yours out?"

  "Not really."

  "Mr. Prince said that even though my grades are stellar, I need to join a few more clubs. So far I have Chess Club, French Club, and Robotics Club. Do you have any suggestions?"

  "You're asking the wrong person. I don't belong to any clubs."

  "What about your friend...Elizabeth?"

  "She's not into clubs either. But she takes a bunch of classes at the community center."

  "Oh. What about this section, Skills and Talents? I wrote: Computer Programming, Digital Photography, and Audio Engineering, but Mr. Prince said that I need to broaden the list, make it look like I'm more well-rounded. How do I do that?"

  "Again, you're asking the wrong person. I'm so clueless he made me take an aptitude test." "How'd you do?"

  "I don't know." I pulled it from my backpack. "I'm kind of afraid to look."

  "Why?"

  "I probably flunked. I'm not good at anything, really."

  "You can't flunk an aptitude test." Elliott held out his hand and wiggled his fingers.

  Might as well find out. I handed over the results. He slid his thumb under the flap and opened the envelope " 'Results for Katrina Svensen: Entrepreneurial Profile,' " he read. "Wow, that's great."

  "Entrepreneurial ?"

  "That means you'd be good at starting your own business."

  I knew what "entrepreneurial" meant. What I didn't know was how that related to me.

  Had Mr. Prince given me the wrong results?

  Elliott continued to read. " 'Enterpreneurs possess the following characteristics: they are creative problem solvers, they have the ability to see possibility, they can make independent decisions, and they inspire, persuade, and motivate others.'"

  I took the paper and turned it over to see if someone else's name was on it. It had to be a mistake.

  "What classes does Elizabeth take?" he asked. "Maybe I should sign up for one of those."

  "She'd be happy to tell you about her classes. Just ask her."

  Elliott's cheeks erupted like little cherry tomatoes. He opened his book. "Well, I've got some research to do." He lay on his back and started reading.

  I lay on my back and read the test results over and over. What sorts of problems had I solved? Who had I ever inspired? Did I ever see possibility, or was I always looking at my life with a loser mentality?

  When the bell rang I made sure that Vincent stayed well ahead of me in the hallway.

  Between second and third period I ducked into the bathroom to avoid Heidi, and at lunch I had to take the long way to the parking lot to avoid Vincent again.

  Elizabeth had beat me to the car. As soon as I shut the passenger door, she burst into tears. "He said no."

  "I don't believe it."

  "He said he had something else to do that night."

  "Like what? Everyone goes to the Solstice Festival."

  "He's probably going, he just doesn't want to go with...me." Her nose started to run. "I don't blame him. I'm fat and ugly. Who wants to go out with this?" She swept her hands over her purple coat and checkered pants. She threw her lunch bag into the backseat. "I'm not going to eat for a month."

  "He's a jerk," I said. I had forgotten to pack a lunch, so I grabbed an apple from Elizabeth's bag, then let loose a flood of unhappiness. "They're all jerks. They want perfect girls. Perfect, sporty, perky girls. And when they get those girls they forget about their friends. Okay, so maybe he didn't hold that cup on purpose during his television interview and maybe it wasn't his fault that Mr. Darling named a drink after him, but he promised he'd never go to Java Heaven and now he's going. Heidi's totally brainwashed him against me. It's all her fault. She's doing this on purpose. She's so mean." I tore into the apple's flesh.

  Elizabeth wiped her eyes, leaving a smear of mascara on her sleeve. Before I could spew any more unhappiness she said, "I'm going to be totally honest and I don't want you to get mad."

  "What?"

  She took a big breath. "Heidi's dad's a real jerk, no argument there, but I've never seen Heidi act like a jerk. Sure, she's an overachiever and totally annoying, but she's not mean to people."

  I almost choked. "I can't believe you're saying this. I thought you hated her as much as I do."

  "I don't hate her. I don't like her because I know she stresses you out and she's just not the type of person I would want to hang out with. I'd always feel like a total failure around her."

  "Oh gee, thanks."

  "You know what I mean."

  "No I don't. You like hanging out with me because I have no goals, because I don't do anything? Because you don't feel like a failure around me?"

  "Of course not. Jeez. I hang out with you because you're my friend and I love you.

  But you've decided to hate Heidi simply based on what her dad does for a living."

  "So?"

  Elizabeth reached into her lunch and unwrapped her sandwich. "I don't think you're pissed at Heidi because of her dad's coffeehouse. I think it has to do with Vincent. I think you should just admit that you're in love with him."

  "What?" A piece of apple flew from my mouth. "I'm NOT in love with Vincent."

  "It sure seems like you are."

  "What are you talking about?"

  "Yes, he's a total idiot for agreeing to go inside Java Heaven to make snowflakes.

  That's wrong. And we should give him the silent treatment. But--"

  "But nothing. I don't love him."

  We sat in silence for a while. I stared out the window. How could she think such a thing? Was everything and everyone against me?

  And that's when they walked by, just like before. Vincent and Heidi, in their matching swim team sweatshirts. But this time he wasn't just touching her arm, he was holding her hand, their morning argument long forgotten.

  I started to cry.

  Elizabeth slammed her hand on the steering wheel. "I knew it!"

  Twenty-five

  I couldn't tell where one feeling ended and another began.

  I was worried about my grandmother, embarrassed about closing the coffeehouse, excited about the third coffee bean and the whole angel thing, sad about possibly leaving Nordby, and miserable, angry and confus
ed about losing my best friend. Was love mixed up in there too? Me, in love with Vincent?

  It didn't make sense. I'd never thought about kissing him. Okay, maybe once or twice, but that had been curiosity, nothing more. I'd seen him in his bathing suit a million times and I'd never looked at him like that. Sure, I liked sitting next to him in the movie theater because I could hide my face on his shoulder if it got scary. And sure, when we studied together on the couch, I liked to stick my feet under his knees to keep them warm. I liked it when he let me wear his coat or his sweatshirt. And I especially liked it when, of all the people in our school, all the perfect and beautiful and overachieving people, he chose to sit next to me in class. Was that love?

  I said in the beginning that this was not one of those "I'm in love with my best friend"

  stories. Suddenly, on that Monday, I didn't know what to think. I didn't know squat.

  I drove home. A banner hung across Main Street, announcing the Solstice Festival.

  Shopkeepers had lined their doors and awnings with little white lights. Displays of gingerbread houses, snowmen, and candy canes filled the shop windows. Festivity floated through the air, but it ricocheted right off me as I drove past our front door.

  Closed by the Health Department Until further notice. The rat was my fault. It had appeared because I had lied to an angel, and then I had let the lie fall from my hand, onto the floor, where my fat cat had eaten it. I couldn't blame everything on Mr.

  Darling.

  I parked in the alley. "Hello, Katrina," Ingvar said, opening the back door. He held a broom. "Your grandfather gave me a key ages ago. I hope you don't mind that we let ourselves in. We've been cleaning."

  The coffeehouse smelled like bleach and Pine-Sol. While Ralph mopped the kitchen floor, Odin wiped down the pantry shelves and Lars scrubbed the stovetop. "Hi Katrina," they said.

  "What's going on?" I asked.

  "We're cleaning the place up before that nincompoop of a health inspector comes back," Lars said.