Echoes by Marissa Lete (best books for students to read txt) 📕

music playing in the background. The dull hum of a busy restaurant. The strange part, however, is that none of it is from today. Today, the place is empty except for us. It is, however, surprisingly clean. And even kind of cute, with its homey decor. The white linoleum floors are spotless, and every table is covered in a blue-checkered tablecloth and glass vase with plastic flowers in it. A sign at the entrance reads “Please Seat Yourself,” and Leo immediately sits down in one of the bar stools, taking in the menu.

Nothing about this place is familiar to me, meaning either I have never been here before or I’ve simply forgotten about that, too. I’m afraid that the latter might be the truth.

A short, older woman with the nametag “Penny” comes out of the kitchen as we take in the place, a smile on her face.

“How are you all doing today?” she asks cheerily.

“Pretty go—” I start to say but am cut off.

“Is this a legit jukebox? Like, from the ’50s?” Grace calls from the other side of the room.

“It sure is! Been here since the place opened.”

“Oh. My. Gosh.” she swoons, digging through her pockets for some change.

“What can I get you all to drink?” Penny asks us.

“Cherry Coke,” I say.

“Make that two,” Leo adds.

“Three!” Grace walks back over, the jukebox starting up a tune behind her. The sound of it mixing with the echoes of the past would normally be a lot to listen to in a place like this, except that there isn’t much noise today. When Penny leaves to get our drinks, Grace says, “I immediately take back everything I said about this place earlier. It’s so cute!”

“I’m not sold yet. I’m going to have to try the food first, then make my judgment. Speaking of which… Grace, do you think you can cover me? I forgot my wallet.”

Grace groans. “Fine Leo, but it seems very convenient that you tell me that after you’ve ordered a drink.”

“It happened instinctually, I couldn’t help it. I’m sorry!”

We all laugh and then look down at the menu. It appears to be typical diner food—burgers, chicken, sandwiches, sides. When Penny comes to take our order, I choose a basic hamburger and fries, hoping that the quality of the food is as much of a surprise as the cleanliness of the restaurant.

“If they cleaned up the outside, they would have so much better business,” Grace comments, waving her arm at the empty room.

“You might have a point, but honestly if the food is good enough, people will come anyway,” Leo replies.

“Or maybe people care more about the fact that it looks like a dumpster from the outside,” Grace contends.

“I definitely value quality more than appearances,” Leo shoots back.

“And I value appearances. If the food is actually good, then I guess that will decide who wins this argument.”

As they are bantering, I notice the wall across from the jukebox is covered in a massive corkboard with various papers tacked to it. I can barely make out a block with the words “Employee of the Month,” in the upper right corner, and a photo hanging underneath. I stand up and walk over, hoping it will lead to the information I’m looking for.

My hope dissipates as I get closer. The photo for the Employee of the Month is of a middle-aged woman with dark hair, and the rest of the announcement is just a list of months with slots for employee’s names next to them. The names are only listed back to June, and the rest of the slots for the year are empty. None of them say Maverick or anything that could be close to the name.

I remember the echo I heard from the past, of Maverick telling us he was the cook here. Maybe he simply wasn’t ever an Employee of the Month? Maybe he doesn’t work here anymore—it has been a year since I supposedly met him.

I search the board for another minute, looking for any kind of helpful information, but all I see are lost pet announcements and newspaper clippings about things happening in Shorewick.

I return to the bar, where Grace and Leo’s debate has taken on a whole new subject.

“No one even sees your socks half of the time!” Grace exclaims. “Why does it even matter?”

“Because when you bought the socks, you bought two of them, not one. They were made to be worn together—you can’t just switch it up with different ones. It’s not stylish, it’s a sign of your inability to keep your socks together,” Leo rants.

“But some socks come in a pair with a sock that looks completely different. What about those?” Grace fires back.

“Those are a sin!”

“No, they’re not!” Grace says, and just then Penny comes through the door with a tray of plates in her hands, bringing the debate to a halt. When she places our food in front of us—burger and fries for me, club sandwich and chips for Leo, and a chicken sandwich with fries for Grace—we all dig in. The burger is decent, but nothing special. The fries are a little worse. Half of them are burnt or way too crunchy, and the other half are a bit soggy. Leo reaches for my fries to taste them.

After one bite, he nods his head. “Just as I thought, it’s not about the appearance. It’s the food. Mediocre at best.”

“I think the food is just fine,” Grace says. I notice, however, that she hasn’t touched her fries yet.

“Hard to screw up a chicken sandwich. The fries are the telltale,” Leo replies, tapping his finger on the table.

I laugh at their bickering, then push my plate over to Leo. “You can have the rest if you want. They are pretty bad.”

Then I remember Maverick’s voice.

“Is the food