Read Genuine Sweet for Free Online Page A

of my schoolroom. Still, it was stacked floor-to-ceiling with books, giving it a cozy sort of feel.
    Both computer stations were empty.
    â€œMissus Haines, did you see a girl in here today? A stranger, about my age?” I asked.
    JoBeth was about to reply when the police radio squawked. She held up a finger and mouthed,
Hang on.
Deputy Lamar asked her to check some license plate numbers, which she did before turning her attention back to me.
    â€œThere was a young lady in here earlier,” she said. “Saw her yesterday, too. She fiddled with the computer for a while, then asked where she could get a mocha latte. I’m pretty sure that’s fancy coffee, so I sent her over to Ham’s.”
    I stuffed my reading material into my satchel and darted across the street to the diner.
    A bell jangled overhead as I entered. Scree Hopkins sat with her tenth-grade boyfriend on the pill-shaped stools at the counter. She gave me a Hey-Genuine-look-at-me-with-my-tenth-grade-boyfriend! kind of look, which I answered with my own That’s-great-I’ll-see-you-in-homeroom-like-everybody-else-anyway smile. Aside from them two, and someone in one of the booths, the place was empty.
    â€œGenuine Sweet!” Ham, a pink-cheeked feller with a crewcut, slapped the counter. “I see you came for one of my fine apple fritters!”
    Don’t tell no one, but I sometimes thought of Ham as my almost-pa. He looked out for me. Plus, he’d known my ma real well. Whenever he found me feeling chewed up or sad, he’d sit me down and tell me some peart tale about the good woman Cristabel Sweet had been.
    â€œThat does sound tasty, Ham. Maybe some other time,” I said. Of course, what I truly meant was, “Aw, Ham, you know I’m so poor I can’t even pay attention,” but a girl’s got to have some pride.
    The person in the booth turned to look my way. It was Jura. A frothy coffee sat before her.
    â€œI’ll just join my friend over there, if that’s all right,” I told Ham.
    â€œSittin’s free,” he replied, swatting my shoulder with his dishrag.
    I walked to the booth and slid in across from Jura.
    â€œHi, Genuine.” She practically shone in her fine city clothes.
    â€œI’m late for school, so I can’t stay, but I brought you something,” I said, reaching into my bag.
    â€œWhat is it?” Jura leaned forward in her seat, trying to sneak a peek.
    â€œIt’s a wish biscuit.” I offered Jura the biscuit bundled in a handkerchief. Before I left home that morning, I’d whispered to it that Jura’s ma needed a job in Sass. “Don’t let the waitress see. She might not appreciate us bringin’ non-tippable food in here.”
    Jura opened the cloth. Her eyes grew wide. “Ohh!” She drew a long breath over the biscuit. “Just the smell of it! I love homemade! My granny used to make these!”
    â€œShh!” I hushed her, dipping my head toward the counter. “Your granny’s weren’t quite like this one, I reckon. Now, promise you’ll eat the whole thing, all right?”
    â€œI wouldn’t waste a crumb! Thanks, Genuine.” She pulled a piece off and popped it in her mouth before tucking it into her bag.
    Scree screeched a giggle. I spun around in a panic, thinking I’d been overheard, but she was only laughing at something her beau had said. Maybe I was getting jumpy after Gram’s talk about not stirring folks up with my wish fetching.
    â€œThat biscuit is
really
good,” Jura told me. “You should
sell
those or something.”
    Then she reached across the table and grasped my hand. “Thanks for doing this for me and my mom. It means a lot.”
    I swallowed hard. She truly meant it. I may not have known Jura well, but even I could see this wish would take a real load off her shoulders. When you can help folks in a way that fills them with such sincere appreciation,