Everyone has secrets. Hers involved a midnight escape from her last town using a name that wasn’t really her own. Today, she’s just Maya Banford, the new girl looking for a fresh start and a decent mocha. But when the police car pulled up to the curb outside the cafe, a tremor shot through Maya’s hand, sloshing coffee over the rim of her cup. Was her past, the reason for the fresh start, about to catch up with her?

Earlier that day, the moving truck’s engine grumbled to a stop, leaving a lingering scent of diesel fumes in the air. Maya stared at her new house, its gray bricks dull and lifeless compared to the bright, cheery home they'd left behind. The taste of unfamiliar dust clung to her throat, and mountain pine scent in her nose, a stark contrast to the salty sea breeze of her old town.

“Maya! Time to unpack,” her mom’s voice called from the porch, disrupting her thoughts. Maya dragged her feet, the soft squeak of her sneakers on the pavement echoing her reluctance.

Maya’s mother, Naomi Banford put a slender arm around her shoulder when she stepped onto the porch. Naomi stood taller by nearly six inches, but they were similar in other ways. They had the same wavy golden-brown hair and deep olive tone skin.

“Bridgeport is only a few hours from the coast,” her mother said. “We can go visit your friends when you get time off of school.”

School in Bridgeport would be starting on Monday, a monstrous thought. She yearned for the quiet familiarity of her old classroom in Carlsbad, where she didn't stand out with the wrong clothes and the wrong accent.

"Maya, honey? Let's grab some pizza tonight! There's a place down the street that looks good." Her mother’s voice, tinged with a forced cheerfulness, seemed suffocated by the air.

Maya picked up one of the boxes marked, Maya’s Room from the porch. "Sure, Mom. But don't we have, like, boxes of food to unpack?" She smiled a half-hearted smile.

"That can wait," Naomi said, setting a bright pink flyer on the kitchen counter. "Besides, who knows what mystery ingredients lurk in those boxes."

Her mother was an excellent cook. Her husband, Maya’s father, was a private chef who studied at an elite culinary school in Spain. When it came to food, he taught them both well. Until the divorce.

Maya bit back a sigh. It was the same conversation they'd been having for weeks - Naomi's relentless positivity bumping against Maya's quiet withdrawal. Her mom meant well, but every enthusiastic suggestion felt like an accusation. Didn't she understand that a new town couldn't erase the ache Maya carried inside?

"Come on, it'll be fun!" Naomi chirped, a flicker of worry creasing her brow. "Maybe you'll meet some kids your age..."

Maya's gaze fell to the faded scar on her wrist, a constant reminder of those 'kids' back home. "Yeah, maybe," she mumbled, the word barely escaping her lips.

"And look! They even have that fancy mac-and-cheese you like." Naomi gestured at the flyer, her voice strained with eagerness.

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Maya shrugged, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Fancy mac-and-cheese couldn't replace the comfort of familiar faces, the ease of knowing how to navigate the complicated social map of her old school.

"Well?" Naomi pressed, a hint of desperation in her eyes.

"Okay, sure. Pizza sounds good," Maya relented. It wasn't the pizza she craved, but the quiet lull in the conversation. Yet, the silence that followed was just as thick with all the things they weren't saying.

Maya followed her mother into the kitchen. Moving boxes were lined along the floor and stacked on the counter tops. Her mother fell silent as she stared at a box, overwhelmed. The musty air carried a damp chill. It was still early and heavy clouds threatened rain.

“Maybe a cute barista will make you smile,” her mother said.

Maya scoffed, but her stomach fluttered at the thought. A sprinkle of normality might do her some good. "Fine."

"Deal!" Naomi chirped, a flicker of worry creasing her brow momentarily before disappearing and returning with cash. "Bring me back the change."

Maya pressed her lips together tightly and avoided her mother’s gaze.

The aroma of rain-soaked asphalt mingled with the rich scent of freshly brewed coffee as she stepped into The Daily Bean. She stood at the end of the line with others stepping behind her. Baristas rushed to prepare orders and every table was occupied with patrons competing to be hear and be heard above the commotion. An upbeat song Maya had never heard of was playing on an unfamiliar channel. When the elderly man wearing a raincoat and knitted hat ahead of her was next in line, she caught eyes with a dark-haired boy sitting with two girls. They appeared to be her age. One had long hair the color of spun silvery white, hot pink streaks, and had a cluster of cute tiny freckles on her even cuter round face and button nose. The other girl had straight dark brown hair, long on one side and buzzed on the other. Maya casually looked away from them to the elderly man in front of her who was having an issue with his order. The man rummaged through his pockets, his worn fingers fumbling with change. A kind smile graced his face, creased with years of untold stories.

"Looks like you're a few cents short," Maya said softly. Her pulse quickened as his eyes met hers.

"One small mocha, please," she ordered, her voice bouncing off the sparsely-decorated walls of the café. Anxious eyes followed her as she found an empty table, wishing she already had a friend to sit with.

"Oh, bless you, child," he said, "That's mighty kind of you."

She paid for his coffee and her own, cheeks warming as she scooped up her order. A ripple of chatter caught her ears as she turned to leave. A group of teenagers, vibrant and loud, occupied a cluster of tables on the patio. Their shared laughter pierced the air, a sharp pang hitting Maya's chest.

The silvery blonde girl with the hot pink streaks waved Maya over, a welcoming smile spread across her face. “"Hey," she called, waving Maya over. "If you're looking for a place to sit, we've got room!"

Maya hesitated, but a warm cup of coffee and the ache of loneliness outweighed her shyness. As she approached, the group fell silent, curious eyes sweeping over her.

"New to town?" The boy with messy dark blonde hair asked, a hint of friendliness in his smirk.

"Just moved in" Maya replied, tucking a strand of her sun-streaked hair behind her ear.

The silver-blonde girl looked at the two coffees in each of Maya’s hands. She slid a chair out from under the table, offering Maya a place to sit. “You’re really sweet,” she said. “We saw you pay for that man’s drink.”

The others nodded and Maya was met with a wave of names washing over her — Sarah Walker, Alex Simonetti, and Emily Foreman.

As she sank into the empty seat, the world shifted. Bridgeport didn't seem quite so lonely anymore.

Just then, a police car pulled up to the curb outside the cafe. Two officers stepped out, their eyes scanning the patio. For a heartbeat, the teenagers around her stiffened, and Maya's own sense of ease vanished.