PULSE

Chapter Thirteen

[ OCTOBER 6 ]

"Morning!" a voice called from the kitchen as I wandered into the shop. It was hardly six in the morning, and I could tell that the voice didn't belong to the Old Lady, so I stopped in my tracks near the front doors, eyeing the empty front counter.

"Ava?" I called, setting my backpack on the counter and craning my neck to see into the kitchen.

She peeked out of the kitchen. "Hmm?"

"What are you doing here so early?" I asked. "It's my turn to set up."

"I know," she replied, handing me the broom from behind the counter. Every other morning, Ava or I was scheduled to set up the shop before school—sweep, mop, clean the windows, wipe down the tables, and flip all of the signs to prepare for opening. Lev was in every morning to help cook for the breakfast rush, but Ava and I alternated days; and I was positive that today was my day.

Ava pushed the loose hair that had fallen out of her ponytail away from her face, sighing inwardly. "Auntie made Lev take the day off today. His mom finally got him to go to the hospital yesterday to get his head looked at, and even though he says everything is fine now, Auntie insisted that he rest for at least a day before coming back to work.

"He shouldn't fight it," I said, beginning to sweep the floors of the shop. "He's getting paid time off. If I were him, I'd be thrilled."

"That's because you're lazy," Ava replied, dropping a bucket of soapy water loudly on the front counter. "You should work harder, like him."

"If you love him so much, why don't you marry him?" I asked, leaning against the broom.

Ava let a small smile slip, but quickly turned her back on me and headed back toward the kitchen. "Maybe I will. At least he sweeps properly."

"Sweeps properly?" I yelled after her. "What's that supposed to mean? Don't you know that they call me the Super Sweeper?"

"I don't pay you to look nice!" the Old Lady suddenly shouted from somewhere in the back of the shop. "You're not handsome enough for that. Get to work."

I laughed quietly to myself, sliding my headphones up over my ears and listening to the pounding baseline of a track that I couldn't name as I began to sweep the floor around the front counter. With the volume cranked up as loud as it was, I had almost reached the other end of the room with my broom before I finally noticed the Old Lady, standing behind the counter and watching me.

I finished sweeping quickly and pulled the headphone onto my neck, turning to her. "Old Lady? Do you need anything?"

"How long is it going to take before you start calling me Auntie?" she asked.

I blinked. She'd never asked me to call her that before; the rivalry that seemed to have formed between us didn't allow for affectionate nicknames like that. I called her Old Lady, and she called me an assortment of different names—Loud Boy, Annoying Kid, Freeloader, among others. It had been somewhat comfortable like that; I knew that she liked me enough to tolerate me in her shop, and she know that I liked her enough to continue working.

But Lev and Ava, who were practically her children, called her Auntie.

"Do you need anything else?" I asked.

She shook her head. "No. Keep working."

"Yeah. Sure," I said, watching her closely as she turned and headed toward the kitchen.