ᴀᴅ ᴍᴇʟɪᴏʀᴀ ~ ᴅᴘꜱ (ꜱᴛᴇᴠᴇɴ ᴍᴇᴇᴋꜱ)

7 - i like u a latte

Please don't pick up.

Please, please. Don't pick up.

I let out a breath of relief when I'm sent to the answering machine.

"You've reached the Albrecht residence. We apologize for not being able to answer at the moment, please leave a message," I mouth along with the words. I've become all too acquainted with this message the past few years.

Saint Constantine School for Girls requires that every pupil makes correspondence with home at least once a week. Most students are allowed to choose whether they call, write, or visit. I, unfortunately, was caught faking a letter a few years back, so now my calls are scheduled and monitored every Sunday. Fortunately, they're monitored by Mrs. Stacey.

"No luck?" she asks.

She definitely already knows the answer.

"Not this week. Maybe next time." I regurgitate the same excuse I use every week, something about my father working late or my home phone being unreliable. I try to quietly excuse myself, but Mrs. Stacey stops me.

"Ivy, wait. I need to talk to you about something."

I reluctantly turn to face the teacher. "Yes?"

"Are things okay between you and Beatrice?"

Her question sits like a pit in my stomach. I consider lying, but something in her tone tells me she once again already knows the answer. The urge to vent to her plagues me, but I bite my tongue.

"We were supposed to be roomed together this year, but something got mixed up. It was too late to fix it, and now we rarely see each other. It's had a strain on our friendship," I answer. It's only partially a lie.

"I figured it was something like that. After you came into my class, I made a note to tell Miss Haddix you were looking for her. When I brought it up, she got really uncomfortable."

She pauses to readjust her dress. "I'm glad there was no fight. Perhaps you'll have better luck with rooms next year. It will be your last year, after all."

I muster a half-hearted laugh. "I'm not so sure that's a bad thing. Besides, I'm warming up to my new roommate. We started off a little rough, but I think she's learned to tolerate me."

Mrs. Stacey pats my shoulder and smiles. "I just wanted to check to make sure everything was ok. I know how important it is for a child to have a trustworthy adult in their life..."

She glances over to the phone. "...Whether blood-related or not."

I nod in agreement and wave goodbye before departing. I manage to keep my tears at bay until I exit the building.

-

My feet carry me towards the southern edge of campus, past the theater department and math building. I spot a little cafe across the street and choose to compose myself there.

The temperature spikes the moment I open the door. It's a dramatic change from the crisp autumn air outside, but a welcome change nonetheless. The overwhelming scent of ground coffee and pastries fills my lungs.

Where has this place been my whole life? I really need to come to this side of campus more often.

At the counter, I order a croissant and a black coffee. Scanning the cafe, I search somewhere to sit after completing the transaction. Most of the booths are empty, with the exception of one in the far left corner.

I squint at the lone figure before realizing it's not just a figure. It's a boy, one with glasses and wavy auburn hair, sitting in a Welton Academy uniform.