“I’m new,” I say. “I don’t have everything figured out yet.”

“Let me know when you do.” She gives me a hard stare like my math teacher would when I told her I did my homework, but my dad spilled his beer all over it.

Carly is wearing a blood-red velvet beret, a navy nylon dress like something Mary Tyler Moore would wear, torn fishnets, and combat boots. The points of her blue inked tendrils peek out from the high neckline of her dress. I wonder what they are. Moonbeams? Snakes? Octopus arms?

She shouts, “Half-caff hazelnut cap,” and hands the travel mug back to the newsboy man. “You know how to use a cash register?” she asks. It takes me a sec again to realize she’s asking me and not him.

I nod.

“It’s two seventy-five,” she says. “Ring him up.”

I don’t understand how that cup of coffee could possibly cost two dollars more than a regular cup of coffee, but no one else seems to think it’s a problem. The customer hands me a five, and I thank the gods of new jobs or coffee or whatever, that this register is the same as Margo’s.

“Do me a favor,” Carly says. She’s already on the next order. “Take those mugs to the kitchen, and while you’re there, stick your head outside to tell Bodie his break is over. Tell him I said to stop smoking up and get his ass in here.”

I duck under the plank and grab as many spent coffee cups as I can. There are piles of dirty dishes by the sink, so I put them wherever I find space.

Outside, the blond guy who was behind the counter yesterday is leaning against the wall, balanced on one foot, smoking a small squat cigarette. He’s not wearing a jacket and he doesn’t look cold. He’s sunshine. His blond stubble catches the light and makes it look like his face is glowing.

“You’re that girl who wants to help,” he says, taking a deep drag, holding his breath before he lets it out. The smoke smells like a dead skunk and reminds me of Lion Boy. My face flushes.

“Bodie?” I say.

“Yeah.” He sighs. “Let me guess. Carly wants me to get my ass in there.”

“Pretty much.”

“April,” he says, smiling so wide that his eyes turn to slits like a cat. “That’s your name, right?”

“Yeah.”

He takes another drag. “April showers bring May flowers, but what do Mayflowers bring?”

“Huh?”

“Pilgrims, man.” His top lip all but disappears when he smiles. “Pilgrims.” He stubs his cigarette on the bottom of his shoe, pats me on the back, and says, “Let’s go before Carly’s head like totally explodes.”