The Birch House

Chapet Twenty - Nine

I had a break between classes - it couldn't really be called a lunch break, because it fell at ten a. M. -  and  walked over to the University Centre for coffee. The UC was large and kind of seedy; the carpet was ancient, and the furniture had seen the eighties, at least, and maybe the seventies. It was one large, open atrium filled with couches, chairs, and eventucked in one cornera grand piano.

Student-activity banners, most badly painted, draped overhead and fluttered in the weak air-conditioning.
Most of the couch groupings were already claimed by students talking or separately studying. I had my eye on an open study table near the corner, but I'd have to hurry; there were plenty of people looking for places to settle.

I hurried to the coffee bar at the back of the atrium, and smiled and waved as I spotted Alyssa behind the espresso machine. Alyssa waved back, pulled two shots at the same time, and dumped them into steamed milk. The line was about five deep, and I had plenty of time to think about what Chase's dad had said. And what he hadn't.

What was he doing there today? Really? Maybe he'd come to fetch Chase, but I wasn't sure. Chase's dad seemed to have a plan, but I had no idea what it was. Maybe Chase would know, but I didn't want to ask.

Alex. I'd tell Alex everything, as soon as he appeared.

"Large mocha," I said, and dug out the required three-fifty from my jeans pocket. It was a huge expense for me, but I figured it was only right to celebrate Alyssa's first day on the job.
The cashier - a bored-looking guy who was probably wishing he were anywhere else - took my cash and waved me on to the line for drinks.

I was standing there, thumbing through my English-lit book, when I heard muffled laughter, and then a wet dull thud as a drink tipped over on the counter. I looked up to see a ring of guys standing around a spilled drink, which was dripping off both sides of the counter.

"Hey, zombie chick," one of them said to Alyssa, who was standing next to the counter, still pulling shots and very obviously ignoring them. "Wanna clean that up?"

A muscle fluttered in Alyssa's jaw, but she silently got a handful of paper towels and began to mop up the mess. Once the counter was clean, she raised the hinged section of the bar and cleaned the floor on both sides.
The boys continued to snigger. "You missed a spot," said the one who'd spilled the drink. "Over there."

Alyssa had to bend over to get to the spot where he was pointing. He quickly stepped up behind her and began banging his crotch against her butt. "Oh, baby!" he said, and they all laughed. Laughed. "You're so fucking hot for a dead girl."

Alyssa calmly straightened up, turned around, and stared at him. Not a word. One thing I could say for Goth makeup, at least it covered up blushes. I was blushing, furiously, on Alyssa's behalf. And shaking.

"Excuse me," Alyssa finally said, and moved him aside with one hand flat against his chest. She got behind the bar again and slammed down the hatch, took the two espresso shots and dumped them into a fresh cup, stirred, put a lid on it, and put it on the bar. "Here. On the house."

The creep reached out, grabbed the cup, and squeezed. The top popped off. Coffee went everywhere, splattering Alyssa, the counter, the floor, the guy holding it. His buddies burst into open laughter when he said, "Oops. Guess I don't know my own strength."

Alyssa looked at the guy at the register, but he just shrugged. She took a deep breath, smiled - not, I saw, her normal smile at all - and said, "You ought to see a doctor about that, Bullwinkle.

Plus the crotch rash. Next! I have a mocha for Evie!" Alyssa thumped down another cup and vigorously scrubbed the counter.

I hurried up. "Oh my God!" I whispered. "What do you want me to do? Get somebody?"