Up at sunrise. Pack notebooks away with the laptop, roll up sleeping bag, leave nothing behind. Walk to the village, unlock the little coffee shop on the corner with the single key in my pocket. Turn on the lights, write today's specials on the menu, wash my hands, prepare the food. Make a single coffee, set it on the counter and tie an apron around my waist.
It's become an everyday ritual for me, taking the early morning shift at the cafe. It started out as a simple trade with the owner while he was on vacation - I'd run the shop for a couple of hours before the proper employees came, and he'd pay me a little bit of money.
Now I take the weekday morning shift on my own, from 6 a.m. until midday. It's difficult during the busy periods when everyone wants their morning coffee before work, but I survive on my own. Surviving on my own is what I'm best at, actually, so it all works out.
After someone comes to take over, I take off my apron and relocate to the tiny table in the corner. Laptop on, earbuds in, world out, just like at school - except this time I'm not trying to block anything out. I'm just trying to get a few hours of peace.
And then I write.
I write, I research, I plan, I create backstories and character profiles and plot outlines. I draft, I edit, I correct my grammar. I think I'm more productive here, sitting in my cafe, than I ever was back at school.
It's odd to think that all of the kids who I grew up with are sitting in their last year of classes as I work in the cafe in the next town over. I'm standing here, taking orders, manning coffee machines, making money, as they sit in desks, learning how to make more money.
A girl enters - she's about my age, which is weird. It's only eleven in the morning, an hour till I can go write in my corner. Not that I don't enjoy working at the coffee shop. I really do, but that's not the point. Point is, shouldn't she be in school?
Hypocritical, I know, but it's a valid question.
"Hi there, what can I get for you today?" I smile as she walks up to the counter.
"Oh, uh, one second - I need to look," she says, blushing and turning toward the menu.
"Take your time." I'm interested already, by two things - the fact that's she's not in school, and the camera hanging from a strap around her neck.
I've never actually seen that camera before, but I know all about it. I know the exact price, and the model - I sound weird, but I've researched it. My main character buys one at the beginning of my book.
Maybe I can ask her what it's like, to help with my writing.
"Can I get a latte, please?"
"Yeah, totally! What size?" Her voice snaps me out of my thoughts.
"Um, a grande, I guess?" She glances up to the cups on the counter.
"You don't seem very sure," I smile at her, trying to get one back. I'm successful; she laughs.
"A grande would be great."
"That's better - can I get your name to go with it?" I still have to take her name even though there's no one else in the cafe.
"I'm Elle."
The name I've written so many times before suddenly takes me by surprise as I hear it, for the very first time, spoken aloud.
YOU ARE READING
Plot Twist
Teen FictionElias is a runaway author with his debut novel all planned out. But his main character was supposed to be fictional, right? He meets Elle, and the only thing he didn't expect in his book outline is himself.
