Igloo High

CHAPTER THREE - The Father of All Announcements

Ella had told Ryan she would text him the details. For two excellent reasons. First: she got his cell number—total win! Second: that would give her time to find the perfect place. Because she knew very little about coffee aside from making lattes at home and going to Starbucks with Sandy every once in a while. What kind of coffee shop would impress him the most? She wished she knew what he liked to drink, so she could better tailor her search. Was he the latte drinking type? Hopefully, he didn't drink drip coffee. Because—oh, God!—that was so passé. That was for people who didn't know any better, what real coffee was supposed to taste like. Yeah, hopefully, he didn't care for drip.

On the bus on her way home from school, Ella read reviews on her cell of the best coffee shops in downtown Montreal, soon finding out she should look for 3rd wave coffee joints, which meant the best baristas and coffee nut heaven. She narrowed her list down to three sure bet places, then looked at all the photos she could find to evaluate the decor and atmosphere. The right lighting was as important as the right roast, if not more.

She settled on a cute place named Pi Café. That was so perfect for math tutoring: she imagined Ryan would get a kick out of that. Perhaps he'd find Ella clever for suggesting the place. That would be sooooo great if he thought she was clever.

On top of that, the decor of Pi Café was modern, but it looked like it had super comfy chairs and sofas. None of those uncomfortable little plasticky chairs that had been all the rage in hipster places (and magazines) for way too long now, and absolutely no rational reason whatsoever. They were ugly to begin with, and no one could sit in them for more than five minutes without needing an appointment with a chiropractor. Whereas you could not possibly go wrong with comfy chairs—unless they were old and ratty, or stained or pierced with stuffing coming out—but here, this didn't seem to be the case.

Ella looked for other alternatives to make sure she was making the very best choice, but she kept going back to Pi Café. She looked at a few more reviews for good measure, but this was, without a doubt, the right place.

She couldn't wait to hang out there with Ryan.

Ella was still fantasizing about her trip to Pi Café with Ryan—mostly ignoring the math part—as she walked up the hill of Grey Avenue in Notre-Dame-de-Grâce, an old tree-lined neighborhood of Montreal.

As she approached her house, she was surprised to see her dad's car in the driveway. That was odd. Was he already home from work? And if so, why? Dan never came home early.

Ella looked around and saw no ambulances or police cars or anything to explain some sort of tragedy and the presence of the family car. That was a good sign. Still, she took those seven steps to the front porch with apprehension.

The front door was unlocked. She climbed the inside stairs leading to their second-floor dwelling. She was midway up when Dan poked his head out, at the top of the staircase. Why? This never happened before: on most nights, he was either working late at work or glued to his laptop at home working late. They would rarely have time to chat, unless it was over dinner. And even then. But right now, Dan seemed very eager to engage with her. Not only did he leave his laptop to greet her, but his whole demeanor was slightly exaggerated. Enough to raise suspicion, at least.

"Who died?" inquired Ella as she was putting away her favorite fall jacket, the black trench-coat that made her look awesome and adorable.

"No one! Why would you say that?"

Yeah, why would I say that?

Dan looked for words. It was clear he wanted to say something but didn't quite know how to say it. "How was your day?" he tried.