Kristina Springer: The Espressologist

There. It won’t be so bad. I probably even look good this way.

"Sorry," I say as I straighten up. "What can I get for you?"

"Let's see," Melissa says, standing back so she can look at the menu overhead. I just now notice that she has a sidekick with her. Actually it's the same sidekick who always followed her around school last year. She's much shorter and not as pretty–almost invisible really, next to the great Melissa Still-well. "What do you think, Gin?"

Ginny Davis looks up at the menu and shrugs.

"Maybe frappycaps?"

"Uh, no," Melissa says sharply. "I'm doing South Beach this week so I can't have sugar." Ginny sighs.

Small nonfat latte, I think to myself, and wait with my hand hovering over the keypad of the register.

"Okay, we'll have small nonfat lattes," Melissa decides. Ha! I'm dead-on again.

"I'm sorry, was something funny about that?" Melissa looks pointedly at me with eyebrows raised and arms crossed, ready to do battle.

Whoops. Did I "Ha!" out loud?

"No, of course not," I say. "Just clearing my throat. So that's two small nonfat lattes, then?"

"Yeah, that sounds good." Melissa nods and flicks a platinum credit card across the counter to me with one cotton-candy-pink fingernail. Just then Ginny breaks into a huge smile. I can see the look of recognition in her eyes.

Darn, darn, darn. Melissa looks at Ginny quizzically. "What are you smiling at?" she asks her. I move to the espresso station and grab two small white paper coffee cups with the famous Wired Joe's logo and mark them both with the drink order.

Just keep busy, don't even look at them. I give a sideways glance in their direction and see Ginny whispering in Melissa's ear. Melissa turns to look at me and breaks into a huge grin. "Cousin Dater, is that you?" she asks.

Melissa Stillwell ruined my entire junior year when she nicknamed me Cousin Dater. I had only just started getting over it this past summer after she graduated and I thought I'd never have to see her again. It happened at the homecoming dance. I had never gone to a high school dance before and my mom was all over me to go to this one. "You'll regret it years from now if you don't go," she said. "You'll look back at your high school yearbook and wish you had those memories." Yeah, right. Wishing for memories would have been more fun than being stuck with the ones I've got.

I had never been good with guys, so my mom suggested I take my über-hot cousin Nathan. Of course I didn't want to at first (I mean, ew ... gross, he's my cousin!) but she convinced me that no one would ever know, and Nathan was so incredibly good-looking and so popular at his school that it would totally boost my reputation. After a few weeks of going back and forth with her, I finally agreed.

The dance started out just fine. I could totally tell that people were impressed with my date. But then stupid, selfish Nathan couldn't keep with the plan. I went into the bathroom to fix my makeup and when I came out I saw Nathan totally hitting on Melissa in front of the soda machine. I ran over to him, looped his arm with mine, and tried to yank him away but he wasn't budging. Melissa said, "Is this your date?" and Nathan replied, "Not really, I'm just doing a favor for my mom. This is my cousin Jane."

Well, that was that. Melissa nicknamed me "Cousin Dater" and made sure that everyone in attendance at the Lincoln High homecoming dance knew that I was there with my cousin. I was MORTIFIED. Nathan left with Melissa and I had to find a ride home.

The nickname, unfortunately, caught on. Soon people I had never even met were calling me "Cousin Dater." My mom said, "Don't worry. It'll blow over. There will be a new drama with someone else next week and they'll forget all about you." Yeah. I inadvertently ticked Melissa off a week later and my destiny was sealed. We were in the same Spanish class and the teacher told me to ask Melissa for a pen in español I somehow mistranslated and ended up calling her a pig. The whole class laughed and I knew I was doomed. Never piss off the pretty people.

"It IS you, isn't it?" Melissa asks again. I hand her back her credit card. "I don't know what you are talking about."

"Oh, come on, you're the girl who took her hottie cousin to the Lincoln High homecoming last year. What was his name again?" She looks at Ginny. "Ethan or something, right? I went on a date with him. Terrible kisser." She flares her nostrils in disgust at the memory. I busy myself making the two lattes. Where are Sarah and Em? Why couldn't one of them make Melissa's blasted coffees? I stare straight ahead at the espresso machine and draw the first shot. I can feel tears starting to sting my eyes.

Do NOT cry! The two girls move over to the counter to get in a better position to taunt me.

"So, Jane Turner, isn't it?" Melissa asks. "Still dating family members, Jane?" Both girls laugh.

I grab the cream instead of the skim milk and pour it into the foaming pitcher. There we go–we'll see who's laughing when she gets on the scale later.

"Ah, seriously, all kidding aside. What are you doing with yourself, Jane? You are a senior this year, right? Or did you drop out of high school to be a coffee girl?"

Melissa smiles.

"I'm a barista," I nearly whisper.

"I'm sorry, what's that?" she says.

"A barista," I reply louder, "not a 'coffee girl.' " Melissa and Ginny both laugh even harder. Just then Em comes up behind me.

"What's so funny?" she asks, immediately recognizing both girls.

"Jane ..." Melissa sputters. "She's ... just so funny."

"Well, it looks like your drinks are ready," Em says curtly.

"Yeah, yeah, keep your apron on." Melissa glares at Em before turning to address me. "Looks like we'll be seeing you often, Jane. Ginny and I are going to the School of the Art Institute of Chicago just up the street. It's a top fashion school."

"I know." I try to act unimpressed when secretly I totally am. That's the school I'm waiting to hear from. I've wanted to study fashion there for as long as I can remember, way before all of the fashion reality TV shows made it supercool for everyone and their sister to study fashion. And Melissa's at my DC. I feel sick.

"Where did you say you want to go to school again?"

Melissa asks.

"I didn't. Have a nice day," I tell her. I grab a rag and begin to clean the back counter. I hear the girls giggle as they leave the store. I pull out my notebook from underneath the espresso machine and quickly write: Small Nonfat Latte

Bitch.

"What was that about?" Em asks once the girls are gone. "And what's with your hair?"

"Oh." I let down my hair and then pin it back up again, neatly this time, with the clip. "It was my disguise.

Not like it worked or anything. As for Melissa and Ginny–I don't know. I guess they didn't have enough time torturing me last year, so they thought they'd follow me throughout life."

"You shouldn't put up with their crap, Jane."

"I know. But forget about them. What happened with Derek? You aren't in trouble, are you?"

"In trouble? Why would you think that?"

"Sarah thought you looked scared when you came in,"

I tell her.

Em laughs. "Scared, no. Irritated, yes. I hate coming in early. Especially when I'm not getting paid for it. And I had wanted to get some studying done before work." Em is taking advanced everything. She wants to be prelaw at DePaul University next year and she's very serious about keeping up her 3.8 GPA. I pull out a box of whipped cream lids from a cabinet to restock up front.

"So what did Derek want, then?" I ask.

"Oh, you're not going to believe this. He wants me to be the assistant manager! Like I have any bloody time to be the assistant manager!" Em is not British, but adopts a British accent whenever she gets really mad. It started shortly after we saw Bridget Jones's Diary.