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Sixteen hours. That’s how long the Pancake Disco was open. An hour off was an hour off, I’d take what I could get.

“Deal.”

We shook on it. Then I heard the sound of the restaurant door being unlocked behind me. I got a weird look from the woman opening it. It wouldn’t be the last, I’m sure.

“Don’t try to cheat,” Leo said. “We’ll be watching you.”

“You don’t have anything better to do?” I grumbled.

“Definitely not.”

They laughed. Then Paulie turned me toward the entrance and gave me a little shove. The door chimed as I walked in. It was December 19, less than a week to Christmas. There was a Christmas tree in the entry decorated with stuff from the restaurant. Coffee filters and empty single-serve cereal boxes hung with twine and a garland made of register tape twisting around bargain-bin plastic ornaments. A toy donation box sat next to the register with a few wrapped gifts inside. There were gumball and claw machines against the window. I stood there, waiting to be seated, feeling like a freak.

“Anywhere you want,” a bored female voice called from somewhere behind the server station.

I looked around through the flimsy eye holes, trying to decide the best place to sit for the next sixteen hours. I picked a red booth by the window.

I slid into the booth and faced the door and server station behind the hostess stand. It made me a focal point to anyone walking in, but at least I’d have something to look at too.

The sun wasn’t even up yet. It would be set by the time I got to leave. I’d get absolutely nothing done today, a total waste.

They were right, I was a loser. Of the worst bet ever.

2

RHIANNON

“SEE, THIS IS WHY I don’t like working the morning shift,” Laci said, popping her gum. “It’s all the weirdos.”

Laci and I stood by the coffee maker, looking at the guy sitting at table fourteen. He was wearing a green cape, a Santa costume, and a zombie mask.

“Maybe he’s a theater kid,” I said quietly. “The college is down the street.”

“They’re out for Christmas. And it’s six a.m. It’s weird.”

We stared at him for another moment. He was holding the menu right up to his face like he couldn’t see it. Maybe the eye holes were too small?

“Why doesn’t he just take off the mask?” I asked.

“Probably has some gross rash,” she said. “Or a penis drawn on his forehead with a Sharpie.”

I scoffed.

“Of course he’s in my section,” she mumbled.

“I’ll take it,” I offered. “I need the table.”

“Deal,” Laci said without even thinking about it. “Though he probably won’t tip. No wallet in his cape.”

I laughed while I grabbed the coffeepot and a mug and went around the counter to head to his table.

He set the menu down and smiled up at me.

“Coffee?” I asked.

“Hi. Yeah, thanks.”

I poured, watching him tear the tops off three packets of sugar. “So, um, I don’t know if I need to talk to someone about this?” he said. “But I’m going to be here all day, if that’s okay?” He looked up at me. “Sorry, I can’t see you very well.” He adjusted his mask. “I lost a bet with my brothers. I have to wear this and stay here from open to close—don’t worry, I’m going to order stuff.”