Chapter 2 #3
“My family visited when I was seven,” she said, “for—ah, on vacation.” The university had been hosting an international divination convention that year, where oracles of all types gave presentations and took workshops.
Dani’s parents thought it would be the perfect place to scam some unsuspecting attendees, only to discover that highly educated people with psychic abilities were not the most gullible targets.
She’d managed to sneak off a few times to explore the campus.
“We weren’t here for the school, exactly, but I totally fell in love.
I knew I had to be a student here eventually. Just felt it in my bones.”
Fell in love was an understatement—she’d been swept off her feet by the whole thing: the lush green quadrangles where students swapped spell recipes under oak trees, the buildings that looked like they’d traveled from different time periods, the feeling of straight-up magic in the air, a fucking promise.
Seven-year-old Dani knew it at once as a place where people came to change their lives, and that she had to do the same.
Eleven years later, she’d made it, ready and waiting for that change to arrive.
“I love that,” Kass said, grinning. “I can see you as a little kid—in my mind, you had the purple hair even then. But you don’t have any idea what you want to do with your degree?”
“I mean, no. Not really. Like I said before, I’m basically competent at most kinds of divination and exceptional at none. There’s no passion burning a hole in my pocket. Nothing that feels like it’s worth a dream.”
Now that she was at Fox’s Leap, all she could think about was making sure she didn’t lose it.
Once her status at the school was more permanent, maybe she’d have space to explore her options beyond the only thing she was actually good at—a thing she had no idea how to turn into a career, even if she wanted to.
“I don’t think you’re alone in that boat,” Kass said kindly. “And hey, we’re only first-years, right? We’re not at the end of the river yet.”
“No, guess we’re not,” Dani said. “Anyway, we should get back to work, right? This blueberry scone essay isn’t going to write itself, you know.”
“I know, I know. My apologies come to you from the Mariana Trench of my heart.”
“Gross. You can keep them.” But she grinned. “Just get to work and quit bothering me.”
He put his head down obediently and turned his attention to his books. Dani indulged in a few seconds of gazing at the whorl in his hair before she, too, shifted to matters much more academic, and dramatically less cute.
The switching of focus was one thing, but the keeping of it was another beast entirely. They kept sneaking glances at each other at the exact same time, then sheepishly laughing and looking back down at their work in unison.
Dani never would have guessed that she could get anything done under these conditions, but she somehow managed to produce five hundred or so half-hearted words on her, ahem, encounter with the scones, scarcely noticing the slippery passage of witching hour time.
It wasn’t until the door-ghost wailed after ages of silence that Dani remembered she was at work.
“Customer,” Dani said. “Be right back.”
Kass nodded, not looking up. Dani made it to the register at the same time as the customer, a regular named Oliver who was also a first-year at the Leap.
They’d been coming in a few times a week since she’d started working here, and the two were now on a first-name basis with each other.
Dani always enjoyed their snippets of conversation.
“Hi,” she said, smiling, as she woke the register up from its nap. “Want your usual?”
“Actually, I was hoping for something a little stronger tonight,” Oliver said. “Whatever you have that’s guaranteed not to let me fall asleep.”
Their dissonant tone made Dani look up. From a cursory glance, there wasn’t anything out of the ordinary about them; they were wearing functional, slightly dirty overalls under a padded corduroy jacket, which she knew meant they’d just come from the university greenhouse, and their dark hair fell gracefully past their ears from underneath their typical beanie.
But they also had dark circles under their eyes, and where there was normally a positive spark to their aura, there was now a palpable slump.
“Sure,” Dani said, trying not to show her worry. “Got a test tomorrow?”
They shook their head. “Well, yes, but that’s not why I want the coffee. It’s just that I really don’t want to be asleep right now, you know?”
“Absolutely,” Dani said, though she didn’t really.
She’d do anything for a little more sleep.
But relating to the customer was one of the core tenets of baristadom.
Plus, she was seeing a lot of dark, nearly black indigo in her inner eye right now.
Oliver was going through it, whatever it was. “Hot or iced?”
“Hot, please.”
“One all-nighter, coming right up.” She made them a triple cortado with blonde espresso and a pump of homemade cinnamon bun syrup, trying to decide if she knew them well enough to ask if they were okay.
As she slid the drink across the handoff plane, she settled for, “Heading back to the greenhouse?”
“Nah,” Oliver said. “I’m going to grab some lab space while it’s quiet.
” They were an arcanobotany major, though Dani didn’t know exactly what they specialized in.
She felt the usual zing of pleasure when they lifted the drink to their lips and released a happy sigh on the first sip.
“You’re a lifesaver, thank you,” they said, dropping their change in the tip jar.
“I’m sure I’ll be back soon. I hope you have a good night. ”
“You too!”
Kass drifted up to the register as the door-ghost farewelled the customer. “Looks like it’s about time to get out of here, huh?”
“Yeah, I better close up shop.”
“Can I help?” Accurately anticipating a rejection, he added, “Please?”
She bit the inside of her lip so she didn’t break out into a smile. “You could take out the trash, if you really want.”
“You got it.”
Dani hurriedly shut everything down and tucked the beleaguered scones into her bag. Scones weren’t her favorite, but they were better than an empty stomach until her usual meager lunch of ramen. She only ate breakfast on the mornings after a shift where there were pastries too old to sell.
Once she had gathered her things and locked the front door, she headed to the alleyway behind the café, home only to a dumpster and a decorative array of spent cigarettes and joints.
Kass was waiting patiently, tapping his fingers on the strap of his backpack.
It was misting finely, and the streetlights looked like wispy dandelion heads.
Dani shivered and buttoned her jacket all the way to her chin.
“I’m headed toward campus. You coming?”
Kass squinted against the rain. “Nah, I’m in the opposite direction.”
“Oh.” She didn’t know what to do with this disheartening information. “Okay, well, see you later, then.”
“Hey.” He touched her arm as she turned to go, and she sensed the spark of urgency in it. “Can I—could I maybe really see you later, sometime?”
The smile that smoothed her lips felt waterproof. “Sure,” she said, trying to sound as casual as a girl who got asked out, or asked-out-adjacent, oh, maybe ever. “I work at Quarter Cast most nights, if you’re looking for a solid study spot. Open every night until two.”
“Perfect. I’ll see you tomorrow night, Dani the oracular barista.”
“Yeah. See you then.”
She watched him walk away, then blushed when he looked back and caught her. Kass ducked his head, which she’d already come to think of as his signature move—or maybe he was just embarrassed for her—before he was eaten by the rain. Dani watched the sidewalk where he’d been, entirely spellbound.