Shouldn't You Be in School? (All The Wrong Questions)

by Lemony Snicket

I looked up and down the block and tried to think of where I might go. The library, I thought. There’s work to be done, books to be read. But you can’t go there under these circumstances. Think, Snicket. Where else feels like home in this fading, frightened town? My feet knew before my head did. In ten minutes I was at the corner of Caravan and Parfait. Black Cat Coffee was always the same, every time I was there. It was still just one room, long and narrow like a train car. There was still an enormous counter where you could sit and think. There was still a player piano in the corner, tinkling music that was sad but not weepy. There were still three buttons—one marked A that opened the hatch in the ceiling and lowered the staircase so you could reach the attic, one marked B that fired up the machine that made fresh bread, and one marked C that controlled the shiny equipment that brewed coffee, dark and strong, that I never drank. But there was no button to make Ellington Feint appear. It was a rare day that I didn’t go to Black Cat Coffee, just on the off chance she might be sitting at the counter. The place was usually empty, but whenever I saw someone at Ellington’s favorite spot, with a cup of coffee steaming next to them, my heart raced to think it was her even as my eyes told me that it was someone else. This day was no different.