“I guessed. It is nice outside. And I don’t see you switching to ‘warm biz’ anytime soon.” She hops down, light-footed, from her chair. “By the way, I want to talk to you about something later. When are you free?”

“I got nothing until my Moms’ trial at two.”

“Aw. I have classes until then. Okay, I’ll nab you around lunch, if that’s no bother?” Manager interrupts her next sentence by calling her over. “Hai! We’ll talk later! Oh yeah, there’s a box of tea and maybe some cakes left in the staff room. The water in the kettle should still be hot.”

“Cakes?”

“From the open house. There’s plenty left. Dig in. ‘Second breakfast!’” She adds in a whisper and sprints off to talk to Manager and some stern-faced parents.

BREAKFAST. I could smack myself. I didn’t eat a thing this morning. I walked out the door on an empty stomach. Cybelle, you idiot. No wonder I’m so hungry. Wait a minute — did she say “open house?” That’s new. No wonder I’m getting weird looks from strangers. Since when do we do open houses? What happened to Manager sulking behind the reception desk on a quiet Tuesday morning, grunting at everyone in lieu of words?

I slide the door open and slip into the hidden staff room. Glad to see it’s empty, as usual for a Tuesday. I sign in on the computer, which flags me for clocking in over an hour early. Tsk, tsk. No wonder Manager gave me such a weird look when I greeted him. I shrug it off. At least the cupboard is still normal. I squeeze my purse into its usual space among the other giant purses, textbooks, CDs, old cassette tapes no one dares throw away, stuffed animals, the kindergarteners’ personal art supplies, puzzles, markers, and crayons for kids in the lobby, and the infinite number of files and binders of track records, invoices, and handouts. I grab one of the stools at the bench (just big enough for three or four people to sit next to each other) with my own binder of English miscellany and jot things down. I have plenty of space to spread out and work. Today I only have three classes, which means lots of peace, quiet, and time to plan for the week. And what luck, there are a few of my favourite conbini cakes — lemon Baumkuchen — next to our good old electronic kettle.

As I munch away and sip some green tea, a high-pitched voice rings through the paper-thin walls. Someone shouting about civility? Being civil? The door slides open and bangs against the wall, making me jump out of my skin. Lieko sticks her head in and glares at me.