The Teashop Girls

by Laura Schaefer

  “If this works, it’s going to be our spot to share.”

  “I hope you are right.” Zoe hurried off toward homeroom, leaving me at my locker. I pulled out two books and almost created an avalanche—my locker was worse than my bedroom—and checked the stash of tea. I breathed in the peach ginger smell. Soon it would fill a whole wing of the school and maybe a few others would become as obsessed with tea leaves as I am. I crossed my fingers.

  Sure enough, Genna plopped an enormous coffeemaker on our corner table three hours later and plugged it in. We started heating water and had tea steeping soon after. The cafeteria took on a peachy smell and people began drifting over to see what was going on. Genna happily poured small cups and added ginormous heaps of sugar, which everyone eagerly grabbed. Anything weird in the middle of a boring school day was big news. And any smell that could mask the lunch lady’s Cod Surprise was even better, believe me. Zoe and I handed out coupons and Genna poured until the first batch was out. We quickly got a second batch steeping. Mrs. Peabody, who was on supervision duty that day, wandered over. I poured her an extra-large cup, which she drank with relish.

  “Delicious!” she said, and thanked us. We went through three more batches before people stopped coming up. All the coupons had disappeared, and everyone seemed to like the tea except for Zach Anderson, who said it tasted like soapy bathwater. Figures. It backfired on him, though, because Zoe and Genna simultaneously made fun of him for (a) taking baths and (b) drinking bathwater.

  “It’s just so easy to tease him,” Genna said. I couldn’t help notice she had winked when he came up to bug us. Gross.

  “It’s mean to tease lower life forms,” said Zoe. “But I think in this case, we’re totally allowed.”

  I couldn’t get the grin off my face. The first Steeping Leaf Treat Day had gone so well! I was just about to unplug the coffee machine when Principal Arun appeared. I quickly poured him a cup and offered it to him. He looked angry for some reason.

  “What is going on here?” he demanded.

  “Treat Day, Mr. Arun. It’s tea.” Genna smiled her most angelic smile. “Mrs. Peabody said it’s delicious.”

  “Wait! That’s the missing coffeemaker from the booster office! Who gave you permission to use that machine? This isn’t a mall food court!” He yelled at us. I was so scared. “You three. In my office. Right now. Where is Mrs. Peabody?” The smiles on our faces immediately fell. What was with him? He could get all agitated about the littlest things. We reluctantly headed for the office as Mr. Arun and Mrs. Peabody stayed behind to collect the coffee machine. Zach gloated happily, of course, and scrawled on his notebook, “The Steeping Reek” to wave at us. We could hear Mrs. Peabody saying she thought we had permission.

  In the office, we all sat in a row, waiting to be admitted to the principal’s office. I was freaking out, as was Zoe. I’m sure she was very worried what her parents would say about all this. She was always worried what her parents would say.

  I had never once been sent to the office. Which, I realized, was probably a small miracle considering Genna and all her “ideas.” Genna wasn’t exactly a stranger to the detention hall … though she insisted that all her past infractions were alleged, not proven. It occurred to me just then that even though I was afraid of what Principal Arun would do, it could be worse. At least he knew me and knew that I didn’t usually—er, ever—get in trouble. Surely good behavior had to count for something? I was suddenly shivery at the prospect of going off to high school, where now instead of a clean slate I’d have a permanent record. Scary, very scary. I wished that I had saved some of the tea to sip while we waited.

  “I can’t believe this,” Genna was saying. “It’s not like we mooned the teachers’ lounge, like Zach. Or graffitied the girls’ bathroom.” She was all flustered. “This is really harsh.”

  “Look, the important thing is, we stick together,” Zoe said with a slightly shaky voice. “Whatever punishment he gives, we all suffer it.”

  “Zo, that’s not fair. I planned it,” I said. I patted her hand. No reason for her to smudge her perfect academic record.

  “And it was my dumb idea,” Genna added. She also reassured Zo, not wanting her to get in trouble.

  “I don’t care. We stick together. Here he comes.” Mr. Arun returned to the office, nodded to the school receptionist, and indicated his office with a frightening tilt of his head. We followed him.

  “Who would care to explain?” he asked gruffly.

  “I will,” I said, with surprising firmness. “We were handing out tea samples because we’re trying to save the Steeping Leaf, my grandmother’s teashop. It’s this wonderful local business over on Monroe Street that’s in danger of closing because people insist on going to chain stores, which have no soul, and the building owner is trying to evict us because we’re a smidge behind on our rent, and …” I trailed off. “Tea is good for people. Better than soda. We were just trying to get everyone to want to go to the shop, give it some business. Show them something different.”

  “I see. Do you care to add anything?” He looked at Genna and Zoe.

  “Sir, it was my idea. We’re sorry. We should’ve gotten your permission,” Genna said, her smile making a comeback.

  “Yeah. We’re sorry.” Zoe looked our principal right in the eye. She pushed her white headband back and added, “Did you know that June is National Iced Tea Month?”

  “All right. I suppose there was no harm really done. I expect you all to clean up that coffeemaker, put it back where you found it, and next time, get permission. I can’t have students hawking products like this is some sort of theme park. I’m trying to run a school here.”

  “Okay, Mr. Arun. Thank you.” I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. We all smiled at one another and clasped our hands.

  “Two more things,” he said. Oh no.

  “First, the next time you decide to bring ginger peach tea to this school, I expect the first mug.” There was a sparkle in our principal’s eye. “It smelled wonderful.” Me and Genna laughed. Zoe handed over the remaining loose tea she had been holding. Mr. Arun nodded in thanks and jotted down the Leaf’s address. A new customer, yay! “Two, as for you, young lady,” he said, gesturing in Genna’s general direction. “I see from your file you’ve received warnings about this before, so I have no choice but to issue a detention. You can report to room 203 at 3:10.”

  “If you give her a detention, you have to give all of us one,” I said. Solidarity!

  “Miss Green, this really doesn’t concern you.”

  “If it concerns Genna, it concerns all of us!”

  “Very well. If you all want to serve a detention for her skirt, it’s fine with me. Good day, ladies.” Mr. Arun stood up and we filed out of the office.

  american tea drinkers are different from tea drinkers in other parts of the world. Eighty percent of the tea we drink is iced tea. The story goes that it was invented by Richard Blechynden on a hot day in 1904 at the St. Louis World’s Fair. No one was visiting the East Indian Pavilion for hot tea until they put their warm drink on ice … then they became very popular indeed.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The first cup moistens my lips and throat. The second shatters my loneliness. The third causes the wrongs of life to fade gently from my recollection. The fourth purifies my soul. The fifth lifts me to the realms of the unwinking gods.

  —CHINESE MYSTIC, TANG DYNASTY

  Two days later, the Isthmus feature story on the Steeping Leaf appeared. It was only a half page, but already business was picking up a bit. Students were even coming in with coupons! I got an A on my “History of Tea” paper, so I’m starting to think I’m a pretty good writer. Of more than than just lists, even. That inspired me to write an editorial about supporting local businesses for our student paper. A couple of eighth graders came into the shop to tell me they liked the piece. They only split one pot of tea, but it was a start.

  • • •

  MIDDLE SCHO
OL STUDENTS SHOULD SUPPORT LOCAL BUSINESSES

  by Annie Green, barista at the Steeping Leaf Café

  * * *

  Small and locally owned businesses give our town personality. If you want to have the exact same food, clothing, and surroundings as someone in Seattle, a chain is for you. But isn’t being young all about finding different ways to express ourselves? How can we do that if we are all drinking the same thing, wearing the same thing, and watching the same thing?

  Spending your money in a shop that is owned by someone who lives in Madison means that your money will stay here. Chains are not cheaper or better just because they are trendy. The Steeping Leaf Café, for example, also sells products from local suppliers, which is good for the environment because less gas is used to get foods to the store.

  We are sometimes more worried about fitting in than standing out at school, and I think that’s sad. It is up to us to decide how we want our world to look, and I for one do not want every single city to be a clone of its neighbor. It might be easier to choose the same brands as your friends, but it’s boring.

  • • •

  “I think I have senioritis,” Genna declared in a dramatic voice. We were both in the shop after school, willing it to be busier. Genna was flopped over a cushy chair, sipping a warm chai latte and chatting with Louisa, who was being very sympathetic.

  Louisa patted Genna’s hand and left the counter to me. She went to the patio to see if the few customers outside needed more hot water. I shot Genna an eye roll.

  “You are an eighth grader, not a twelfth grader!”

  “Fine. Then I have eighth grade–itis. I am so bored. My parental units went to Chicago this weekend and just left me again. I think I’ll have people over to the pool.” She started flipping through her artwork and changing all the $30s to $80s. I know what you’re thinking. A pool party in Wisconsin in May? Brrr. But Gen’s pool is indoors. Very posh. I, on the other hand, remember being excited when my dad put a sink and mirror in our basement.

  “Gen, don’t you think eighty dollars is a little high?”

  “What are you saying?”

  “Nothing. Anyway, we’re going to do a poetry night here next week, and I want you to write something.”

  “Really? When? Are you going to invite people from school?”

  “Monday. I think so.” I walked outside to the patio to see if anyone needed anything. Louisa was exchanging pleasantries with the Kopinskis at the biggest table. Ling and Hieu were there too, and sure enough, Louisa held the toddler in her lap. He sat there contentedly, as if he’d been put under a spell. Ling looked at peace too as she balanced her checkbook and sipped a big mug of jasmine tea.

  “We loved the Isthmus feature,” Mr. Kopinski was telling Louisa. “Such a nice story. I didn’t know you and Charles opened so long ago!”

  “It was all my granddaughter’s idea,” Louisa said proudly. “Annie called the reporter. Such moxie … she reminds me of Charles. I can hardly believe it’s been so long myself.”

  “She really enjoyed interviewing you,” I replied shyly, happy to be compared to my grandfather. In fact, Louisa and the lady from the Isthmus talked for what seemed like hours. By the end, I was pretty sure we had a new regular customer.

  “Oh, Ally was a dear,” Louisa said modestly, gently bouncing Hieu. “Just started getting her own bylines. Such a talented writer.”

  “I’m glad you both enjoyed the story,” I said to the Kopinskis, my voice coming out more confidently as I cleared their plates and wiped up a bit. “I’d really like to see them do another one about the shop … we have an anniversary coming up, you know. I’m also thinking of calling Madison magazine,” I added.

  “I admire your chutzpah, Annie,” Mr. Kopinski said with a twinkle in his eye. “It seems your grandmother has trained quite the hostess … and businesswoman.”

  “I … it’s nothing. I just … I just really like working here,” I said, shy again. Businesswoman? Hostess? It sounded so grown-up. “But thank you.”

  I watered the flowers and checked on the other occupied table. It was Mr. Silverman with one of his huge books. Today, he was intent on one called The Razor’s Edge. I chatted with him about the weather for a little while and returned to my spot behind the counter to look at Genna. She was sketching on a large white pad. It was a line drawing of the shop itself, and it was beautiful. She had made the room seem bigger and more angular, while perfectly capturing the light on the tables.

  “Genna, that is so awesome. You should put more sketches like that up for sale.”

  “Whatever, this is just practice. It won’t be done until I splatter it with paint, cut it into strips, and weave it back together.”

  “Um, okay. Where’s Zo?”

  “Practice, where else?”

  “Check out the fliers I had printed up.” I handed over a fat stack of bright orange fliers advertising the shop and its upcoming events.

  “Ooh, cool. I like how you put that the Leaf features local artists.”

  “Thanks.”

  “When are you going to put these up?”

  “Today. As soon as Jonathan gets here to help me.”

  “Ooh. Operation Save the Leaf Phase Four. Give me some, I can hang them up on my way. Pool party tonight for sure!”

  “I thought you were just going to have a few friends over. Gen, won’t your parents be upset?”

  “Yeah, twenty to thirty of my very closest friends,” Genna replied with a wicked smile. “Hey, I’m an only child left home alone with the housekeeper on the weekend. My parents should, like, expect me to throw a party. Besides, they are so, like, guilt-ridden over jetting off without me.”

  “Uh-huh. See you later.”

  I made sure our staple gun was full and tried to be patient. Finally, Jonathan showed up. He smiled at me and Louisa, who had brought Hieu inside to fetch a cookie.

  “What’s up, Louisa? I got your message.”

  “Thank you for coming in, dear. I could use some extra hands today. Help Annie with these fliers, okay?” Louisa handed him a stack and gathered up Hieu, who already had cookie all over his face.

  “No prob.” He read it over and said, “Just as long as I don’t have to write any poetry.”

  “You never know, Mr. Schultz, you never know. It’d do you some good,” Louisa replied.

  “I hope this isn’t interrupting anything,” I said to him as I took off my yellow apron and we headed out to the street. Mmmm. He smelled so good . And I’d managed a complete sentence. This was progress.

  “Nah, I’d much rather put up fliers than study. Louisa showed me all your ideas for the store. They’re good. I think she’s excited about it. I heard her talking about everything with Mr. Silverman.”

  “Um, cool.”

  “You know, I think I might have even learned something that I can use for my project.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. Like, sometimes a business has to get back to its core values to succeed. I think you’re on the right track, I just hope there’s enough time …”

  “Me too,” I said emphatically. “Me too.” We walked in silence for a while, and I felt really happy about Jonathan’s comment. I prayed I’d think of something clever to say. “So, how’s school going? You haven’t been here at the shop much.” Boring, but it was a start.

  “It’s okay. How’s yours? Do your teachers go all catatonic in front of the overhead projectors like mine did?”

  “Yeah. I don’t think my social studies teacher has moved a muscle since 1999. They just roll his chair over when they have to mop.” I stopped and stapled a few fliers at a kiosk. Jonathan laughed. We’re having a conversation. A real, actual conversation!

  “Sometimes I miss middle school. High school is definitely harder.”

  “But I’m sure it can be fun.” I wished he’d forget I was in middle school.

  “Sometimes, yeah. But it’s hard being new. That’s why I come into the shop to do homework.” I had never considere
d the possibility that Jonathan could be lonely. It seemed the Steeping Leaf was a refuge for more than just me.

  “That makes sense.”

  “Mmm-hmm.” Jonathan was silent for a while, stapling fliers methodically to every phone pole we saw. Leave it to me to bring a promising conversation to a screeching halt. I decided to bring up Genna’s party. It was a risk. If I decided to go, a swimsuit would be involved.

  “So, there’s this pool party tonight … would you, um, want to come?” It was one of the scariest questions I had ever asked in my life. I waited, willing myself not to take back the invitation.

  “Who’s having it?” He stapled loudly and stuck some fliers in people’s mailboxes.

  “Um, Genna. My friend who’s always wearing, um, a beret or something.” Genna usually stood out in a crowd because she either had on a blue cowboy hat or a beret. My riskiest fashion choice so far in life was the decision to buy a pair of plaid capris. I never wore them.

  “Genna, right. I remember her. Do you think your sister will come?”

  “Um, maybe.” There was no way Beth would come to an eighth grader’s party complete with a chaperone. I immediately felt guilty for suggesting otherwise.

  “Cool. What time?”

  “Seven? Over on Grant?” I had no idea why my voice was squeaking so much, I was just happy to get the words out at all. I don’t remember anything else about stapling fliers after that. I floated back to the shop when a large number of them had been spackled about town and flew home to my computer. Sometimes I wondered if it was more fun to have something actually happen to me with a boy or to race home to tell the Teashop Girls about it. It was close. I pushed the thought of Beth and my little untruth out of my head.