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I stuck my tongue out at her and said, “I knew you were my favorite, Marisol.”
Marisol giggled from the opposite couch. “Back at you.”
Adelita scowled. “Get out of here.”
Mom shook her head at us as I grabbed a burrito and said, “Don’t mind if I do.”
I got in my car and drove toward Seaton Bakery, where Jacinda and I had agreed to meet. The place was unassuming—a plain boxy building painted white with a gravel parking lot that looked like it may have been asphalt at one time.
Hand lettering on the windows advertised a coffee and donut special, along with support for Seaton High School. If only the words could tell me what would come. If this meeting was just getting my hopes up or if a future outside of the norm was actually possible for me.
With a deep breath, I turned off my car and walked inside, instantly spotting Jacinda. She had lightly tanned skin and an abundance of black curls flowing down to her shoulders. Both she and the woman she was talking to at the counter turned my way.
“Diego?” Jacinda said. “Great to see you. This is Gayle—she and her husband own the place.”
I smiled, in my element. I liked meeting people. “Can’t wait to try out some of your food,” I said, my eyes zoning in on a glass cabinet full of pastries. “It looks amazing.”
Gayle beamed at me, crow’s feet creasing around her blue eyes. “Pick anything you want. It’s on the house.”
Jacinda gave the woman a chastising look. “Gayle, you know I can pay now.”
“Your money’s no good here. And neither is yours, Diego. What looks good?”
I contemplated the offerings for a minute. They had massive muffins, cupcakes, and even a row of donuts that had my mouth watering. “Can I try the Oreo cupcake and get some coffee to go with it?”
“Of course,” Gayle said. “What about you, hon?” she asked Jacinda.
Jacinda ordered a bagel and a tea, and soon we were sitting in a corner booth, trying our food and making small talk about Seaton Bakery and Emerson Academy.
“My daughter had the best time at that school,” Jacinda said. “I’m so happy I can give back to some of the students.”
A nervous flutter struck up in my chest. “I’m really thankful. I don’t know how much Birdie told you, but this is kind of a lifeline for me.”
“What do you mean?” Jacinda asked.
I looked down at my cupcake, pulling the wrapper away from the sponge. “I’ve never really been great at school. I get along okay with mostly Cs and a few Bs here and there, but it’s not really enough to get into a great college. Even if I got into one, I don’t know what I’d study. All I’m really good at is playing sports, and I don’t like the idea of becoming a PE teacher or coach and going back to school all over again.”
Jacinda chuckled. “It sounds like you know yourself more than you think.”
I raised my eyebrows. It was strange to hear after feeling so lost.
“Some of us aren’t meant to go to college,” she said. “And that’s okay. My daughter, Jordan? I’m pretty sure she could go to school for the rest of her life and be happy as a clam. Me? I start sweating the second I get near a classroom. I like to do things, get my hands dirty, see the results of my work.”
I nodded. “That’s exactly it. I’m better at doing than learning from a book.”
“There’s lots of learning that needs to happen when you have your own business,” she said. “But it’s more enjoyable, for me at least, because there’s a real purpose behind it. A mission. So the first thing I want us to do is write your mission statement.”
The brakes of my excitement slammed and skidded to a halt.
A mission statement? This felt really similar to my economics class—the parts I could remember.
Without me even speaking, she said, “Owning a business isn’t something you just set up and people will come. It’s hard work, Diego. It comes with a learning curve and plenty of failure. If you don’t have a good mission statement, a ‘why’ behind what you’re doing, it’ll be too easy to quit.”
“I don’t quit.” The words were out of my mouth before I even thought them.
“So, tell me why you want to own a surf-related business?”
“Because it’s all I know.”
