Owl's Outstanding Donuts

by Robin Yardi

  “Hey, Mattie! Come on up.”

  Janelle waved them up the bus steps, but Mattie’s feet felt glued to the ground. Stuck in black tar. Sasha squeezed her hand. Beanie tugged. Mattie’s heart pounded, and she let herself be pulled up the bus steps.

  Mattie looked back at Aunt Molly from the top of the bus’s steps. Her aunt’s face pulled into a tight smile. She looked ready to get on that bus and pull Mattie off if Mattie so much as squeaked. But Mattie knew that staying put in Big Sur wouldn’t solve anything.

  She’d been trying to keep herself safe. And that was okay. Losing her mom—that was something scary. But if she didn’t want to lose the home she had now in Big Sur, she had to be brave. She had to stay on that bus and she had to be ready to step off in Monterey, where Mom wouldn’t be waiting. If her plan didn’t work out . . . she’d just have to come up with another one. Mattie gulped in a big breath and shook Sasha’s hand away.

  She showed Sasha and Beanie how to pay the fare.

  They sat right behind Janelle, all squished together, and waved goodbye to Aunt Molly and Mrs. Little. Mattie tried to smile, but what came out was a crooked grimace. She still didn’t feel very brave, but she just had to pretend. Especially sitting next to Beanie.

  Creak-clack!

  The doors closed.

  Janelle turned around with her hand still on the door lever. “No donut this time?” she said, raising her eyebrows. “Guess I’ll let you ride, but I will say I’m surprised!”

  Mattie knew Janelle was only teasing, but it still made her flinch.

  She had always brought Janelle a donut from Owl’s on her way home to Monterey. But now the shop was closed, and she might not have donuts to share anymore.

  “Next time I’ll bring you a Campfire Cruller,” Mattie said, like it was a promise.

  And it was.

  It was a promise that Mattie was determined to make true, if she could.

  They’d get that picture developed, and it would clear Aunt Molly. The girls would take it to the police, and then someone else would have to pay those stinky cleanup fines. The donut shop had to be open for the Monday holiday so Aunt Molly could make enough to keep the business. No way was Mattie going to let the gloopers get away with having Aunt Molly pay for cleaning up the ditch. Everything would work out.

  That’s what Mattie wished for, anyway, and wishing was halfway to believing it was possible.

  “That cruller would be perfect!” said Janelle. “Hang on, girls. Let’s get this show on the road.”

  The brakes on the bus hissed, Janelle grabbed the big steering wheel, and they careened around the first corner. Mattie’s shoulders bumped against Sasha and Beanie’s. There was an empty swoop in Mattie’s stomach as they picked up speed.

  But Mattie could see Janelle sitting solidly in front of her.

  The bus door was clamped shut.

  And Mattie wasn’t alone.

  That old scary dream was gone, and when Janelle asked them what their plan was up in Monterey, they explained about the aquarium while sharing sneaky smiles with each other. The swoopy feeling in Mattie’s stomach began to disappear.

  Sasha’s smile was in charge and super certain.

  Beanie’s smile was honestly just about the aquarium, because she’d forgotten all about their secret plan in her excitement over seeing for-real jellyfish.

  Mattie’s smile was a little different. She was glad to finally be on the bus. She’d done it, and now she thought the yellow bus was going to be no problem when school started on Tuesday. Which was only in two days. So her smile was proud but also a little uncertain.

  What would happen when she got to school on Tuesday? Would the kids around her look at her weird, thinking that Aunt Molly was the glooper? Would she be able to get through the day without missing Mom? Without wanting her to be the one waiting at the bus stop at the end of the day? Mattie wasn’t sure about that either.

  Suddenly the bus bumped over a big pothole, and Beanie’s little butt went flying up off the seat next to her. “Yee-haw!” Beanie said, like she was riding a wild horse and not a rumbling bus.

  Janelle chuckled. “You are my kind of girl.”

  And Mattie stopped worrying and let her body quiver and flop into Sasha. The three girls giggled and started playing Mattie’s old favorite car game. They wobbled against each other during every turn, like strawberry-flavored Jell-O, because worrying wouldn’t help. She squished a giggling Beanie against the side of the bus. Things were going to be okay—Mattie could almost taste it.

  The Chocolate Twist

  A twisted yeast donut with a hint of cinnamon and our shiny deep-dark-chocolate glaze on top

  Almost an hour into Mattie’s slow, twisty bus ride through the Big Sur redwoods, the rocky cliffs above the turquoise ocean became smooth brown hills dotted with fluffy yucca fronds. As Highway One turned into a freeway and Monterey loomed ahead, Mattie’s stomach went queasy. It wasn’t from the ride or all their snacks. They were almost there.

  “I’m so bored,” Beanie said. She slumped against Mattie’s shoulder. Beanie was practically buried under string cheese wrappers, tangerine peels, and empty cracker boxes.

  Sasha shook an empty box. “Jeez, Beanie—I can’t believe you ate all that. I’m surprised you haven’t barfed.”

  “Nobody say the word barf,” Beanie groaned.

  “You just said the word barf,” Sasha said.

  Beanie clutched her stomach, sending cheese wrappers and cracker crumbs flying.

  “Here,” Sasha snapped, handing over Mr. Little’s phone. “Send Mom a message and tell her we made it. I just saw a sign for the aquarium.”

  Beanie perked up. Her groaning was mostly an act—Beanie had never barfed in her entire life. Mrs. Little said she had a bionic stomach. Beanie’s fingers skittered over the tiny keyboard, adding emojis and misspelling every word.

  Sasha leaned over Mattie to proofread.

  “Beanie! I said send Mom a message, not Ms. Waters.”

  Beanie jerked the phone away. “I already sent the one to Mom. I’m just telling Ms. Waters hi.”

  She waved the phone toward the other girls. Mattie leaned back so she wouldn’t get smacked, but she did notice that Beanie had sent Aunt Molly a whole row of donut emojis along with her note about them being olmost ther.

  Which didn’t seem like the most polite thing.

  The donut emojis, not the misspellings.

  Mattie tried to ignore the sourness in her stomach. Aunt Molly wouldn’t mind. She would know that Beanie didn’t mean anything by the tiny donuts. But they reminded Mattie why she had to get this right.

  Mattie scrunched in her seat, wrapping her arms around her upset stomach, which made Sasha peek over at her. Mattie tried to think of the day’s plan like an adventure. It should be fun, right?

  She grabbed the metal bar in front of their seat as Janelle slung the bus into the next lane, down the freeway ramp, and into Monterey. A few cypress trees clung to the edges of the city, but the sky was open and blue. The city’s bay and docks and streets spread outside of the big bus windows like the top of a cake.

  Mattie pointed toward the bay. Ripples of current and shadows of kelp smudged the surface of the water like they always had. “There it is.”

  The bus hissed to a stop, and its doors creaked open. Janelle shifted around on her seat to wave them off. “You two follow Mattie. She knows what’s good.”

  Then the doors clapped closed again, and the bus eased off down the street.

  Mattie peeked down at her shoes, standing there on the Monterey sidewalk. The bus to Monterey hadn’t careened around the corners out of control, hadn’t crossed any double yellow lines and crashed. Mattie was safe, but all around her the open sky echoed with the truth.

  Mom wasn’t here.

  Mom wasn’t anywhere.

  Knowing that was still scary, but she couldn’t let being afraid steal her home—the home she had now, with the donut shop and their trailer and a feathery, f
riendly owl—away from her. So when Beanie hopped up and down, asking, “Which way, which way?” Mattie was ready to show her.

  Sasha was glaring at the map on her mom’s phone, trying to figure out the directions. Mattie peeked over her shoulder, then pointed at the real street.

  “The aquarium is that way,” Mattie said. “But we’ve got to do the click-camera thing first, Beanie.”

  “Ahhhh. I forgot.” Beanie flopped her arms and let her shoulders slump.

  Sasha squinted at the phone. “So if the aquarium is that way”—she turned the phone around in her hands, and the picture flipped—“then the pharmacy is . . .”

  She pointed.

  Mattie nodded.

  Beanie skipped ahead.

  Sasha zipped the phone back into her pocket.

  It was kind of nice walking on actual sidewalks, but it felt strange too. The trees didn’t crowd close together in Monterey like they did in Big Sur. Things were open and straight and blue, not curvy and close and green. The whole city felt bigger but not fuller. Easier to get around but not an easier place to be. Mattie didn’t quite know how to put those feelings into words. So she didn’t. When they got to her old street, Mattie couldn’t see the house that wasn’t hers anymore. But it was just over the rise. Two blocks away. That was it.

  The house tugged at her. Knowing it was there made Mattie want to make a whole new plan. But that house wasn’t what she was trying to save.

  Mattie’s feet pulled her along, and pretty soon the girls were standing in front of the springy automatic doors of the big drug store. They walked in together, and whoosh! The place swallowed them up.

  Rectangular lights blazed between the dotted ceiling tiles. The cash registers bopped, and the conveyer belts scooted candy and shampoo and bandages toward the rows of employees in scratchy-looking green vests.

  Sasha and Mattie scanned the signs hanging above the maze of aisles. Pharmacy, first aid, cosmetics, hair care . . .

  “There,” Sasha said, grabbing Beanie’s hand.

  Mattie’s skin prickled when she read the red-and-white sign: Photos and Prints. This was it!

  They hustled toward the faraway aisle, ignoring the teetering stack of red shopping baskets and the grinning uniformed greeter. The little counter of the photo section was almost as full of things as the kiosk at the campground. A stand with batteries and gift cards, a tray of gum, and a bunch of miniature umbrellas that nobody would need for months.

  There was a silver bell at the edge of the only empty space.

  Sasha reached her hand forward and smacked it with confidence.

  A teenager using too much make-up to cover a pimple on her forehead leaned forward. She was sitting on a stool, scrolling through her phone and chewing on a piece of gum. Mattie knew Mrs. Little would be horrified. She did not approve of gum. The girls only got to chew gum at parties, never in the house.

  “Yeah?” said the girl, not looking up from her phone.

  Sasha pulled the click-camera out of her pocket and placed it in the center of the counter.

  Beanie grabbed a massive bag of sour jelly beans. “Let’s get these too—I’m hungry!”

  Sasha ignored the jelly beans, crossed her arms, and stared down the teenager. “My dad said you can get these things developed in an hour.”

  But Mattie was starting to get a bad feeling about their plan.

  The teenager behind the counter snorted. Really. And she laughed with her head thrown back, but all quiet, so she wouldn’t get in trouble with her supervisor. “Sure, you could get it done in an hour . . . like a decade ago.”

  She hitched up her too-tight pants, pulled at her green vest, and tapped at a little sign with her short painted nails.

  The nails were magenta and shimmery.

  Kind of like a strawberry-glazed donut with sprinkles.

  Mattie stared at those nails, mesmerized, thinking they must be a sign from the universe or something. Because right then, she really needed one. Because the actual sign that girl had been tapping made it clear that the pharmacy could no way get those pictures out of their busted-up camera within an hour.

  “Can I still get the jelly beans?” Beanie huffed, shaking the bag in front of Sasha’s face.

  Sasha was turning red.

  Sasha Anastasia Little did not enjoy being wrong.

  Or being laughed at.

  And that teenager behind the counter was about to get an earful.

  The Cardamom Classic

  A simple cake donut with a modern twist—gently spiced with toasted cardamom and iced with a matcha green tea glaze

  Even though Sasha went all Mrs. Little on the girl behind the counter, super huffy and in charge, spewing words like incompetent and corporate liars and false advertising, nothing she said could convince the older girl that the drugstore did indeed provide one-hour photo development.

  “We need to talk to your manager,” Sasha finally said, smacking the counter.

  The girl wouldn’t stop laughing.

  “Hang on, can you say that again?” she said, holding up her phone. “I want to Snapchat it.”

  Sasha crossed her arms, refusing to say another word.

  “Look, Minizilla,” the teenager said, sliding her phone into her pocket, “you can put the camera in this little envelope, and we’ll send it off to get developed. Takes seven to ten days.”

  She shoved the envelope across the counter.

  Sasha and Mattie looked at each other and then read the fine print.

  “Not responsible for lost or damaged film,” Sasha whispered.

  “Ten days is too long. We need it today.” Mattie pushed the envelope back toward the girl. Her mind felt fizzy.

  Beanie butted her head in between them both, shaking the bag of jelly beans. So Mattie bought them, and the three girls drifted away from the counter defeated.

  The drugstore doors spit them out onto the sidewalk. Mattie snuck a look at Sasha. She was still furious. Still stumped. What were they going to do now? The thing about the teenager’s pink, shiny nails poked at Mattie’s brain.

  It was a sign.

  “Follow me,” Mattie said, feeling like she’d been woken up from a dream.

  Beanie obviously thought they’d given up on the camera plan and were heading to the aquarium, because she was bouncing again. She didn’t really get that they were all about to lose the donut shop forever and maybe each other. Sasha was still stumped and confused, but she trotted along following Mattie. She didn’t interrupt.

  “Pink . . .” Mattie mumbled as she sped down the sidewalk, turning a corner. “Pink, pink, pink!”

  Mattie pointed.

  At a sign.

  A pink sign that shimmered in the bright sun, round as a donut and hanging above a shop door. It said, Otto’s Fine Photography. Mattie had walked by it a million times with Mom on their way down to the aquarium or to the pharmacy. It had been there forever. Just waiting for them. For her.

  Sasha didn’t look so sure.

  She scrunched her mouth and peeked in the front window.

  There were a few giant prints of sunsets and the ocean and fog-covered redwoods. Arty stuff. Fancy looking. Expensive.

  “I don’t know, Matt,” she said. “I guess we could try.”

  “Trust me,” Mattie said. “I’ve got a good feeling about this place.”

  And it was true. Mattie did have a good feeling, a feeling that pulled her feet toward the shop. But she also had a secret whisper of worry. It told her that the pictures wouldn’t help. It told her that Aunt Molly’s donut shop would never open again. It told her they’d have to leave home. That nothing would turn out right. Not without Mom. Mom had always been so sure and happy and positive.

  Mattie wasn’t certain she could be that kind of person.

  But she grabbed Beanie by the hand and tugged her inside.

  Determined to at least try.

  The door had a bell on it. Exactly like the one on the donut shop. Its jingle was friendly and sof
t. A tall, black-haired man with mottled pink cheeks stood behind the counter. His look wasn’t quite as welcoming, but Mattie decided to stay positive. The man’s wiry eyebrows were like weeds that hadn’t been cut back in . . . well, ever. He raised them at the girls and closed the book he’d been reading with a delicate thump. Like he was a second-and-a-half away from asking where their parents were.

  Mattie took a deep breath. She didn’t want to give him the chance.

  “Um, excuse me, can you get one of these things developed? Maybe in an hour?” She pushed Sasha forward. “Show him the disposable camera,” she whispered.

  Sasha bugged her eyes at Mattie, but she pulled the battered green-and-black camera from her pocket and put it on the counter. She crossed her arms and grumbled something rude about the teenager at the drugstore, which Mattie hoped that the man behind the counter couldn’t really hear.

  The man picked the camera up and turned it this way and that. “It’s cracked, you know that?” he said.

  “We know,” Sasha said.

  Mattie moved forward and bumped Sasha to the left. Just a little.

  “Will it work? Can you still get the pictures out?”

  The man’s eyebrows twitched, reminding Mattie of Alfred’s fluffy ear tufts. It was maybe like a smile, and it made Mattie want to smile back. “Would you prefer matte or gloss?” he asked.

  Mattie and Beanie and Sasha all looked at each other. “Um . . . which is better?” Mattie asked. “Or, you know, clearer?”

  “Ahhh, a question for the ages,” the man said. “Were these photos taken in the evening or the afternoon?”

  “The night,” Beanie said, with her finger pointing to the sky like she was busting out a dance move.

  Mattie nodded. “The middle of the night.”

  The man clutched his chin, leaning down on the counter. Mattie could tell he was pleased to be asked. She could tell he had all sorts of quiet opinions about all sorts of things. She smiled crooked and wondered what kind of donut he might get at Owl’s.