Craft Store Witch

Part 2 - Loitering Enchantress

I didn't know it at the time, but a few miles away at my house my mother was beginning to worry. She held her phone too close to her face and read the text I'd just sent her.

"Ellie, could you come down here?" she called up the stairs.

My oldest sister stomped down into the kitchen. She was wearing dad's sweater, which meant she was in a bad mood.

"Yeah?" she asked.

"Look at this text Millie sent me."

My mom held the phone at arm's length. Ellie's eyes swept across the message without a twinge of emotion.

"Who cares if she's staying out later? It's Saturday night, that's normal."

"I want you to go check on her."

"I'm watching something. Why can't you go check on her?"

"Because what if she's with her friends? I can't be the uncool mom crashing the party. So go put your nice boots on and head down to that strip mall off the highway. It's the one with the craft store."

"I don't want to."

"When are you going to get a job?" my mom asked.

"Fine. Warm the car up for me," Ellie said as she stomped off to get her boots.

"Thank you," my mom called with a smile.

***

"Why don't you want to go in?" August asked me.

"Because..." Finding the words was hard. "It's kind of late for coffee."

"They have other stuff," he said.

I looked past him through the window. Sitting in a round booth around a little table were three girls from our high school. They had names like Samantha and Alyssa, and those names usually ended up on plaques.

"Come on Millie, my older brother says girls like this stuff."

August was holding the door for me. He was doing it in a weird way, dangling from the handle and letting his other arm hang limp, but he was still making the effort. I didn't realize how hard it would be to turn down a door being held open.

We walked in and ordered. I got my usual mix, two thirds coffee with one third one percent. My mom liked to call it "the fraction". August didn't say anything about my sudden warming up to coffee and ordered a black tea.

We sat across from each other, waiting for our drinks to cool down. He waited; I burned my tongue a bunch of times. I was distracted by the girls at the other table plotting my demise. They would send a bored glance my way and their fingers would race across a phone screen. The nerve of me, sitting across from August Moore. What would my reputation be come Monday?

"You got any siblings?" August asked.

I was happy to get a softball question. "Yeah, a bunch of sisters. Sometimes even my mom forgets how many."

"I've got an older brother in college and a younger brother in middle school."

"Your mom must have her hands full."

"No, it's just us and my dad."

"Oh, I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about it."

My foot was firmly in my mouth. Being the girl on a date with August was one thing, but being the girl who blew it with August because she couldn't stop stepping on landmines was even more pathetic. I decided to change the subject.

"You know I always wanted to come in here."

It was true. For a cafe in a strip mall the place had an alluring sense of class. The tables were small and worn down, so you felt close to whoever you were sitting with. All the lighting came from low hanging lamps covered with glass mosaics. Everything was dim and intimate, and best of all was the smell of coffee. It was like the cushions were stuffed with grounds.