I take my first break at one. Carly sends me to the kitchen to tell Bodie what I want for lunch and says I can eat up front if I promise to be chatty with the customers, because that’s what they’re going for. Everybody knows your name and whatnot.

Bodie makes me a turkey sandwich, snacking on potato chips as he piles them on my plate.

“Onward, Pilgrim,” he says, handing me the sandwich. He leads with his chin when he smiles and even though he’s got this perfectly chiseled face, he still manages to look dopey.

I carry my plate and a plain cup of coffee to a table in the corner. The sandwich has green mushy stuff on it, and Bodie made it, so I’m skeptical, but it’s actually really good. Maybe it’s just because I’m so hungry for real food, or maybe it’s that guys make better sandwiches because they aren’t dainty about it.

I’m so focused on chewing, on the taste of food, I don’t even look out the window. I’m just eating.

“This seat taken?”

I jump. My knees hit the table and I spill my coffee. It’s the guy with the newsboy cap from this morning. He has a bowl of soup in one hand and his coffee mug in the other.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I didn’t mean to scare you.” He puts his bowl down, pulls a napkin from the table stand and wipes up my coffee. “I’ll get you a refill.”

“It’s fine,” I say. “I’m too wired anyway.”

“Okay if I sit?”

I want to tell him that I’d rather he didn’t because I’m having an intimate moment with my sandwich, but I remember what Carly said about being chatty, so I say, “Fine by me,” in as friendly a voice as I can muster.

“Adam Jergens,” he says, offering his hand.

I wipe my fingers on my skirt and shake. “April.” There’s no need to get into last names.

“First day, huh?” Adam says, plunging a spoon into his soup. He holds it to his mouth, making tiny waves as he blows.

“Yep.” I’m not trying to be rude, I just can’t think of anything to say to him. He’s not a student. He’s old. Like maybe thirty. I feel like I’m in over my head talking to Bodie and Carly, so this is just too much. He’s not old like Margo, where it’s easier to talk to her because she’s old. He’s like that in-between old, where I’m sure he thinks he was just my age not long ago.

“Are you a townie or a student? I haven’t seen you around before.” He eats another spoonful of soup without blowing on it. No slurping whatsoever.