"ᴷⁱˢˢ ᵐᵉ, ᵘⁿᵈᵉʳ ᵗʰᵉ ᵐⁱˡᵏʸ ᵗʷⁱˡⁱᵍʰᵗ,
ˢᵗʳⁱᵏᵉ ᵘᵖ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵃⁿᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵐᵃᵏᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠⁱʳᵉ ᶠˡⁱᵉˢ ᵈᵃⁿᶜᵉ
ˢⁱˡᵛᵉʳ ᵐᵒᵒⁿ'ˢ ˢᵖᵃʳᵏˡⁱⁿᵍ
ˢᵒ ᵏⁱˢˢ ᵐᵉ
ᵂᵉ'ˡˡ ᵗᵃᵏᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᵗʳᵃⁱˡ ᵐᵃʳᵏᵉᵈ ᵒⁿ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᶠᵃᵗʰᵉʳˢ ᵐᵃᵖ"
James the sun boy who has had everything in his life come to him, has a helpless...
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Chap. 3
James sighed out as Ms. Meadows left the Cafe, and they were finally alone again.
It was Saturday, and he had spent their whole shift trying to ask Jane to go with him to the Ball.
Only each time James started his ardent invitation he was crudely interrupted.
First by his father this morning asking were his gold gauntlet cufflinks were, his mother telling him to pick up more milk, every welcomed customer, the fridge, and oven, ice machine, even Snuffles had almost gotten through the stairway and into the store.
Feeling like a broken record, he tried his best while nobody was in the story to get it out.
Jane danced around him, bringing in a tray of cherry muffins, wiping down the espresso machine with a lavender rag, writing answers for her English homework that was placed on the bar.
"So as I was saying.. In May for us Juniors we get a gala... kind of thing. There is an orchestra, ahh dinner, catering, um dancing? Kinda like something in those Jane Austen books I've seen you read. Remus said it was like that." Remus also described it as a new ring of hell. But James tried his best to make it appealing.
James felt like a fool. How do I say it's a very boring event that would only be exciting if you were there? He wanted to say exactly that, but was almost certain she'd say no just to spite him.
He could practically hear her sweet voice responding. 'well be bored then'.
Doe turned around the large empty backing pan in her hand. James looked at it, wondering what were the chances if he said those words she would hit him with it.
She tilted her head at James. "Are you asking me If I want a catering job for some snobby Alnwick event?"
Doe watched James set down the huge metal cold brew keg he was carrying to the sink, stepping forward in a rushed voiced. "No! No. No, I mean that's not what I- was trying to ask."
Jane pulled out the pencil stuck in her hair bun, stepping towards her notes. Definition for Avarice: reprehensible acquisitiveness; insatiable desire for wealth.
Writing the answer, she replied. "What you think, I am not posh for Alnwick's esteemed catering. Let me guess, they're importing all the food France, along with the staff."
James reeled back. This was going all wrong. She really didn't like France. "No! Well, I think they did do that last year, But I was trying to ask you to-"
The door's bell rang a chime that could have caused James to go deaf out of ire.
"Ohhh my chirpy Doe!" said the voice, using an adjective that could rarely describe the girl.
