How to Ruin My Teenage Life by Simone Elkeles Read Free Book Online Page B

the chair, reading, is none other than Nathan Keener’s-not–my-last-name Greyson. He looks up and I can tell he’s about as thrilled to see me as I am to see him. The cup stops short of his lips.
    Ignoring the urge to confront him about spreading rumors about me, I hurriedly wipe his table before he sets whatever he’s drinking back down.
    â€œYou missed a spot,” Nathan mumbles. I huff. I did not miss a spot.
    â€œAll the tables are clean,” I tell Marla back at the register.
    She seems pleased as she does an eye scan of the café. For the next thirty minutes, Marla gives me the rundown on how to make the espressos, cold drinks, blended drinks, and tells me the particulars of some of her customers. She also explains how to use the cash register. I’m dizzy from the information overload, but I think I got it. Or at the very least I’ll make it look like I got it.
    â€œYou think you can hold down the fort for five minutes while I call in an order for more cups?” Marla asks. “And don’t forget to smile. Remember, the café is called Perk Me Up!”
    Just call me the Smiling Barista Extraordinare. Well, not really—I don’t know how to “garnish,” as Marla puts it, with cinnamon, nutmeg, and other fancy stuff. I’ve been hanging out at Perk Me Up! ever since I moved in with my dad, so I pretty much know the basic routine. It’s the non-basic that throws me off.
    While I’m counting how many cups we have left, the door to the café opens.
    My first real customer. I smile and look up then relax as I realize who my customer is.
    My dad.
    â€œWelcome to Perk Me Up!” I tell him in an overly formal tone. “Can I help you?”
    He walks up to the counter and surveys the scene. “You look good as a working woman,” he says, looking proud.
    â€œCut the crap. What do you want?”
    I hear a gasp beside me. Oops, it’s Marla. And she can’t see I’m talking to my dad instead of a real customer. “Amy!” she chastises.
    But when she reaches me, she breathes a sigh of relief.
    â€œBoy, you’ve got tough employees,” my dad says, then gives Marla a wink. “Okay, Amy, give me a large cup of your house coffee, black, with a shot of espresso.”
    â€œYou’re never gonna fall asleep,” I tell him.
    â€œGood. I’ve got a lot of work to do tonight.”
    It’s a wonder my father isn’t a lawyer. He never tells me the specifics of his work. I guess it’s cool that he’s got a top-secret job, so I don’t bug him about working late.
    I pour the mixture into a cup while Marla watches me closely. She smiles as I finish; then I hand it to my dad. He takes a sip right away, not even waiting for it to cool off. “ Best -tasting coffee I’ve ever had in my life,” he tells Marla, his overzealous reaction totally obvious.
    I roll my eyes. “ Aba , go sit down already.”
    â€œWhy don’t you join him,” Marla says. “Your shift is over.”
    â€œI’ve only been here an hour. How can it be over?”
    â€œThat’s our deal,” my dad chimes in. “An hour a day on the weekdays, three hours on Sundays. I didn’t want it to interfere with your schoolwork.”
    Eight hours a week isn’t so bad, especially because I’ll still have my Saturday nights free.
    I hand Marla my yellow apron, but she says to bring it back tomorrow when I work. Then I grab my purse from the locked cabinet and sit down with my dad at one of the tables.
    My dad takes out mail from his briefcase and starts rummaging through it. I’m craning my neck to see if there’s a letter from Avi. It’s been over two weeks since I’ve gotten one. It’s unlike him.
    â€œWell?” I ask.
    My dad has this mischievous smile that gives it away.
    I hold my hand out. “Give.”
    He holds out a letter and I snatch it out of his