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Dad brings out another tray of pastries just in time for the afternoon rush.

I arrange everything into the case carefully: tall fluffy milk breads in thick sliced loaves, savory ham-and-cheese croissants, rolls studded with savory spring onion and crispy pork threads, matcha-green-tea-spiraled cakes, glistening and shiny cha siu bao, crispy and flaky pineapple buns.

The bell above the door rings, and I look up immediately, like I have with every chime since noon. It isn’t Brenda, just another set of customers.

“What do you keep daydreaming for? We’ve got customers, hurry up!” Dad gestures at the long line behind the counter and people waiting at their tables for their drinks. Two mages, still in their Mayfield uniforms, are barely standing up, bags under their eyes, their fingers twitching.

I finish the drink orders quickly. “Three Pick-Me-Ups and two Endurances,” I announce, and gesture quickly the shorthand for the spell I’d perfected yesterday for short distance levitation.

The spell completes as I finish the final rune in the air and I feel a zing as it takes.

The drinks whizz through the shop, flying to their respective patrons and landing on their tables.

There are a few whistles of appreciation from the coffee crowd. I’m a bit winded, like I’ve just run up a flight of steps, but it’s so worth it.

“Kat, you’re getting stronger and stronger every day! Did you design this one?” Rosita, one of our regulars, beams at me from her corner.

“I did!” I say proudly.

Dad huffs at me. “If you have energy to spell, there’s a whole crate of Endurances in the back that need refreshing.”

“My shift is almost over; I told you I was leaving at four today!”

I wasn’t even scheduled for today, but I knew Jordan would be tired, and Kyla was in a car accident after trying to take a shortcut on Wilshire yesterday, and she had to go to the hospital.

It’s pretty awful; luckily she’s okay, just a few stitches.

I’m still appalled that the damn wyverns were loose; they usually stick to their territory up in the Santa Monica Mountains, but we’ve been seeing swarms more and more in the city lately.

I think that mana surge on Thursday riled them up, even though the mayor is insisting that everything is fine.

I glance out the window again. No sign of Brenda yet. I feel like this day has been going on forever.

“You can finish at least half a crate in twenty minutes. Go on, don’t waste your energy doing stunts like that.” He folds his arms and shakes his head. “You should have just walked!”

“Whatever.” I shrug.

In the storage room, I gingerly pick up the crate of Endurance vials, careful not to jostle their carefully spelled contents.

The potions are viscous, still faintly glowing as they swirl inside their glass vials.

Endurance is supposed to be a bright, inspiring yellow, like sunshine in bottled form, but these are at least two weeks old.

I sigh, wiping clean the empty space on the spelling counter, and grab the last piece of chalk in our bucket and two sprigs of merrywort.

Yawning, I draw the eight runes needed for this spell.

I could do this in my sleep. Recite, remove, repeat.

I’m surprised I don’t actually nod off, but I’ve got a date to look forward to.

A dragon. Brenda and her friends had encountered—and gotten away from—a dragon before.

The possibility of it is fascinating. Brenda is fascinating; her sharp focus still resonates in my mind. I’ve never seen anyone so in tune to their work like that, and she was so passionate about her plans.

In the distance, the clock in the Main Street town square starts to chime; it barely lets out one solemn note before I’m up. I toss my apron and Jordan’s hat on the hook. “Bye, Dad!”

“Did you finish?”

“It’s four!”

He scowls but doesn’t say anything else as I duck out the door, the bell ringing above my head.

I fidget, waiting. I take my hair down, change my mind and put it back up, and then readjust my lip gloss. Five minutes go by. I say hello to people walking into the shop, say bye to Rosita as she leaves, but there’s no Brenda, not yet.

“You know I can see you, right?” Dad asks, poking his head out of the door. “What are you doing?”

“It’s my free time, I can do whatever I want,” I drawl.

Dad sighs. “Either come back inside or go home, don’t just stand here. You’re scaring people away.”

“Really? I actually just got three people to come in for coffee,” I say. “You should be paying me for advertising.”

“Go home, Katherine. Do your homework.”

I glance at the clock. It’s nearly four thirty. My stomach sinks. “How about I do my homework inside?”

Dad raises his eyebrows at me. “Really? Where I can see you? You don’t wanna just tell me you’re working on school stuff and then spend two hours painting your nails?”

I snort. “That was one time.”

I take a small table with a view of the window and try to work on an essay on the process of mana filtration. Two sentences in and I start doodling instead, watching the window intently.

Time moves sluggishly. The butterflies in my stomach stop flying and feel like they’ve been turned to stone, weighing me down inside.

I guess she was just too busy after all.