16 THE CEDARVILLE REVIEW cup, is my name with one extra letter. “Hailey.” I look at the receipt. “Pepp. Mocha frappe.” I wrap my clammy palm around the cylinder. It’s warm. I wanted it frozen, but they gave it to me hot. With smarting shoulders from the unbearable weight of my backpack, I pick it up and drag my suitcase as though it were a lazy bulldog on a leash. By now, I really do have to get my flight figured out. Boarding starts in 15. I’m scowling. The drink isn’t overly hot in my hand, meaning it’s been sitting there for a while, meaning I could have taken it, sat down, and studied, meaning I wasted time. Resentment settles heavy over me, weightier than all my luggage. I don’t want to go home. I’m not ready for winter, finals week, the real world. But then I slow my feet, lift the cup to my lips, and tilt it back. It’s cooled off to the perfect temperature. The minty-fudge elixir hits my tongue, almost spicy, but pleasant. I pause, find an open seat by the window, and sit down. I take another sip, exhaling before a woman speaks over the intercom. “Haley Kollstedt? Passenger Haley Kollstedt, can we see you at the desk, please?” My heart jumps, stomach knotting. I spring up with unexpected energy, drink still in hand. Perhaps the caffeine is already kicking in. People clump in various spaces along my path. I snake my way through.
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