The After Girls by Leah Konen

bitter.
    She hadn’t liked the smell then — what self-respecting eleven-year-old did like the smell of coffee? Her mom had just gotten a job teaching art at the university, and they were moving out of her grandparents’ house for the first time, driving down from New Jersey and starting their new life together. Their van was full of boxes — it was the cheapest moving truck they could get, and the AC was barely working, the North Carolina air almost suffocating them, it was so humid and thick. Ella wanted a lemonade, her mom wanted coffee, and Trail Mix, tucked among the trees along the main street in town, seemed like the best bet.
    Ella began to heat up the milk as the shot continued to drip.
    Some of her memories were clear, like pictures. And maybe they weren’t really memories — maybe they were creations of her mind, drawn and fleshed out from years of loving Astrid and Grace, but what she remembered so deeply was the shock of red hair — on the both of them. It was the first thing she saw when she walked in.
    “What can I get y’all?” Grace had said, flashing a killer smile. Astrid stood there next to her. She was gawky and tall for her age — just like Ella.
    Astrid smiled at her while her mom ordered a latte and a lemonade and talked about the normal adult things with Grace — weather and where to find the drug store.
    “You new here?” Astrid asked, as she carefully counted out the change. Her hair was wild and curly, and she had a vintage-y key tied around her neck.
    Ella nodded. “Just got here today.”
    “What grade?” she asked.
    “Fifth,” Ella said.
    “Me too,” Astrid said.
    “What school are you in?” Ella asked.
    Astrid just laughed. “There’s only one school here. Falling Rock Elementary. Who’s your teacher?”
    “I don’t know,” Ella said, as Grace handed her the lemonade, and her mom started towards the door.
    “Maybe I’ll see you in school,” Astrid said, smiling as they walked out the door. And even then she knew that she liked her. Even then she hoped that they’d be friends for a long, long time. So much for that.
    “You okay?” Jake asked, snapping Ella back to reality. Espresso was spilling over the shot glass. She’d accidently brewed a double-shot.
    “Sorry,” she said, setting the milk down and attempting to pull it out, but as she did she just knocked over one of the other carafes.
    “Whoa,” Jake said, pulling her by the arm as the bubbling milk spilled down the side of the counter. “That’s hot,” he said.
    She heard muttering in the line. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I don’t know what — ”
    “Don’t worry about it,” he said. “Just grab the register. I’ll take care of this.” And he led her by the arm, his fingers hot against her skin. “Okay,” she said, because she was starting not to trust her judgment.
    And then his touch was gone, and he was grabbing a rag and starting at the mess. Ella looked down at the buttons, and they were the same buttons that had rung her up that first time, that she — and Astrid — had pressed about a million times since, but it was hard to focus on anything now. Just like in the dream. She felt the room starting to spin.
    “Can I help you?” she asked, but as she did she grasped the counter with both hands and she leaned into it, and her head felt so light — maybe from the lack of sleep or from the heat — and she heard herself stammer, “I need to sit down,” and she didn’t want to fall because she knew that the dream would be right there, waiting for her, as soon as she closed her eyes.
    But she felt Jake’s arms behind her, and she knew it was no use.
    • • •
    The first thing she saw was Jake, blurry, with two big brown spots where his eyes stared down at her. “She’s awake,” he said, but it sounded like he was talking through a tunnel. She blinked her eyes, and Jake came into focus, and then there was Claire’s prim and proper face, looking at her, too.
    She felt