Page 6 of Skalterra By Nightmare
I looked at the chickens with new, bitter distaste. I’d rather be back on the exploding parapet in my dream than talk about school.
“I wouldn’t know. Your wifi is so bad they could’ve emailed me a week ago, and it still won’t have loaded in my inbox.”
Gams looked at me with scandal in her eyes.
“My wifi is fine. Your phone is the problem.”
“I would show you your online reviews of customers saying otherwise, but they won’t load for some reason.” I set the last chicken on the shelf by the front door. “But no, I haven’t heard from Von Leer.”
Graduation had only been two weeks ago. Summer was still young. There was still time for Von Leer University to take me off the waitlist, but my hopes weren’t high. With every passing day of continued silence from the admissions office, they sunk ever lower.
Mom and Gams had both insisted on me accepting the offer my safety school had sent me, but I’d rather take the year off and reapply. I only got to go to college once, and Von Leer had the best biochemistry program on the west coast.
More importantly, they also had the best geophysics program, which was what I wasactuallyinterested in, but geophysicists were something of a taboo in our tiny family thanks to my father.
“Their loss,” Gams sniffed, now restocking the cereal selection. It was a favorite aisle of the touring families who came through Keel Watch Harbor. “Though I suppose if you don’t get in, that’s an extra year of free labor I get from you.”
That was a joke. I hoped. Gams had told me I was getting paid, though I felt bad taking money from my grandmother.
“I don’t know how they wouldn’t take me.” I grabbed the broom from behind the register. “My application essay was textbook.”
“The ‘absentee father’ bit doesn’t work, dear, when the school is on said absentee father’s lecture circuit.”
“Then that rules out just about every college of any caliber!” I growled.
“Maybe, but he’s only an alumnus of one of them, and that’s the one you’re trying to impress.”
“And maybe it was my bravado at calling him out on being a deadbeat dad that got me waitlisted instead of going straight into their reject pile.”
Gams sighed and beckoned for me to stoop lower so she could kiss my cheek.
“Absentee father or no, they’re missing out on a bright student like you. If I ran a school, I’d admit you for sure. Even if you do sleep in.”
I looked at the clock behind the register. It still wasn’t four.
“Are you usually up this early?” I asked.
“Prime chicken painting time.” Gams winked. “Plus, Teddy will be by with bagels soon. I made sure to tell him to bring you one. He’s such a nice young man.”
I snorted. Teddy was well into his forties, if not fifties, already.
“Thanks.” I leaned against the register, checking my email again.
It was no wonder I’d had weird dreams last night. The stress of waiting to hear from Von Leer was weighing on me, and after everything that had happened graduation night, I was in need of some good news.
Teddy did eventually come by with spare bagels from his shop down the street, and while the man would never dream of charging Gams, she tipped him with her newest favorite chicken. He took it happily, pocketing it in his puffy vest. I wondered how many of her chickens he already had in his bagel shop.
It was a slow morning, but Tuesdays usually were, since most tourists came through on weekends. Of course, we still got the occasional stragglers searching for Keel Watch Harbor hoodies. The cool ocean air tended to catch tourists off guard, and they were always happy to shell out a few extra bucks if it meant staying warm.
I was refreshing my email again, hoping that maybe itwasan issue of wifi and not the Von Leer University admissions team. It gave me something to focus on, at least. The lingering feelings of doom and stress from my nightmare had faded a bit with the rising sun, but I rubbed the spot below my sternum where the old man had run me through.
“Wren Warrender, are you there?”
I looked up at the sound of my name, but the only people in the shop were a young, pregnant couple poking through the hoodie selection on the far wall.
“Gams?” I asked, but she’d long since returned to her workshop in the basement. Jonquil came bounding down the apartment staircase, chirping with each step. She peeked out at me from the stairwell. “You’re not Gams.”
She meowed, as if offended I didn’t see her as an equally important figure of authority in the shop, and went to find Gams in the basement.
