“Megan doesn’t like me.”
“Then you need to make her like you.” He leaned out the window and rested his chin on his forearm. “Find some common interest—like manicures or makeup or something—and bond over that.”
“I’m not into that stuff.” She checked her nails only to find some of the pink paint had chipped. “And Megan doesn’t seem like she is either.”
“Vivienne may not be, but it looks like Alice is.”
“Yeah.” She flipped the ends of her hair. “If I was here as Vivienne, I’d know what to do.”
“Do you hear yourself right now?” He smacked the outside of his door. “You are here as Vivienne. The only thing Kensington changed about you is your hair and your name. Stop trying to be Alice and be blonde Vivienne with bad eyesight.”
Laughing, she adjusted her glasses. “I think I can handle that.”
When Alice got ready for work the next day, she put on her makeup—but only the bare minimum. After all, she was going to a pizza parlor, not a fashion show. It was only a small change, but when she caught a glimpse of herself in the rearview mirror, she felt more like blonde Vivienne.
Alice waved at Megan on her way to the back room.
Megan peered around the corner with narrowed eyes. “You look…different.”
“Yeah. I don’t know who I was trying to impress with all the makeup,” she said, tightening her apron. “My boyfriend doesn’t even live around here.”
Megan hesitated in the doorway. “You have a boyfriend?”
“Back in Wyoming.”
“You’re trying to do the distance thing?”
Alice shrugged. “That’s the plan.”
“What do you think of him?” Megan nodded toward Jimmy busily clearing a table where two toddlers had used their spaghetti sauce as finger paint.
Alice slid two calzones from beneath the heat lamp onto her tray. “He’s cute. But I like guys with dark hair.”
Megan nodded, then seemed to notice Alice’s full tray. “Do you need some help?”
“Can you grab the parmesan cheese for me?”
“Sure.” Megan followed her to the table then back to the kitchen.
“Hey, girls?” Tory called from where she leaned against the prep table behind Will. “Can one of you cut those lemons?”
Megan frowned and said she hated cutting lemons.
“I don’t mind doing it.” Alice brought the handful of lemons to the drinks station so she could keep an eye on her tables.
Megan handed her a knife and cutting board. “How old are you?”
“Eighteen.” Alice sliced a lemon into wedges and stacked the pieces into the plastic container next to the straws. The bell above the door dinged. “Do you want to grab that new table, or should I get it?”
“I can get it.” Megan pulled a handful of menus from the holder.
Jimmy came past carrying a full bus tub. “It looks like you made a new friend, blondie.”
Alice smiled at Megan’s back. “I guess it does.”
Megan came back and pulled a tray from beside the soda fountain. “Did you already graduate or something?” She set her pad of paper down and started filling glasses. “There’s only one public high school around here, and if you were there, I would know.”
“I graduated last year. I’ll be nineteen in a few weeks.”
“No way! I turn eighteen next Wednesday.”
“Do you need help with those?” Alice nodded toward the full tray of drinks.
“Do you mind?”
“Not at all.” She transferred three of the cups onto an empty tray.
In the middle of the restaurant, Megan tripped and spilled her tray of drinks across the floor. Alice laid the tray she carried onto a nearby table and rushed for a stack of towels from the kitchen.
“I feel like such an idiot.” Megan wiped the stain on her damp shirt with the towel Alice handed her. “Everyone’s staring at me.”
“If it makes you feel any better,” Alice said, collecting the cups onto the dirty tray, “I once fell headfirst into a locker with the entire soccer team watching.”
That earned her a laugh and a smile from Megan.
“Let me clean this up,” Jimmy said, arriving on the scene with a mop and bucket. “Alice, why don’t you get that table new drinks? Megan, I have a clean black T-shirt in the office if you want to change.”
Megan’s eyes glittered with appreciation. “Thanks, guys.”
“I think she tripped over this.” Alice straightened the corner of the rug near the entrance.
Jimmy’s eyes met hers, and she recognized the excitement there. “That or her Nevergene’s activating,” he whispered.
“What do we do?” Her adrenaline surged, but she kept her voice low. “Should we inject her now?”
“Go ahead and chase her down with a needle and see how that goes.” He laughed and dragged the Caution: Wet Floor sign from beside the door.
She smacked his arm. “You know what I mean.”
“Could be a fluke.” Jimmy and Alice watched Megan come out of the back in Jimmy’s T-shirt. “A clearer sign would be if she loses consciousness. She turns eighteen next week, right?”
“Wednesday.”
“Then there’s only a few more days to wait.”
Two hours later, the restaurant was quiet, and Megan seemed much steadier on her feet.
Tory emerged from the kitchen long enough to ask everyone to meet her in the office. “We haven’t had any new customers in over an hour,” Tory said from behind the desk. “Jimmy, why don’t you go home? The girls can clear the tables themselves till we close.”
“I don’t mind staying.”
“Yeah, but there’s no sense in Bill paying you to do nothing.”
Jimmy shrugged. “Sounds good.” He untied his apron and slipped it over his head.
Tory stared at the schedule on the wall and scratched her head with the end of a pen. “How many tables do you have left, Megan?”
“Two.”
“Once your last table leaves and you finish your side work, you can head home too.”
“Sweet.” Megan clapped then rushed out of the office.
Alice found Jimmy in the back room, pulling his coat from the hanger. “Okay. I’m going to go,” he said, settling his coat over his shoulders. “But I’ll wait outside in the Jeep till you’re done.”
“Why?”
“In case you need me.”
“Just go home.” She handed him his keys from the hook. “You were with Megan at school all day. Let me feel like I’m doing something.”
Jimmy yawned. “You sure?”
“Yes.”
He told her to call him if anything happened, zipped his coat, and headed for the back door.
The bell over the door rang, and Megan yelled for her.
A man in his early forties shook the raindrops from his dark trench coat and read a copy of the laminated takeaway menu. His black hair was cropped short, and his face bore a heavy five o’clock shadow. He looked up from the menu and smiled. “Hello, Alice,” he said after studying her nametag.