"Stop whining," Oscar clicked his tongue and marched inside.
The interior, surprisingly, was far cozier than the exterior suggested. Red leatherette sofas and checkered tabletops gave the place a retro charm, while the smell of fast food and freshly brewed coffee made my stomach growl on cue.Vintage posters and neon signs added to the diner’s lived-in warmth.
"Care to check out the menu, or do you know what you’d like already?"
A young waitress in a snapback cap leaned over slightly, her freckled face breaking into a grin as she adjusted her pale-yellow apron—emblazoned with a white chicken silhouette—and gave us an expectant look.
"Scrambled eggs with bacon and orange juice!" Oscar chirped, hopping onto a tall stool at the counter like it was nothing.
"And for you, sir?" The waitress turned to me while I gaped at the digital menu screen overhead like a deer in headlights.
How the hell does a place this remote have a digital menu?
"Uh… fries, a chicken burger, and coffee. Black. No sugar," I finally managed.
"Who's paying?" Oscar asked as I slumped onto the stool beside him, marveling at how effortlessly he’d scaled the height.
"I’ve got it," I muttered. "Just give me a minute."
"A minute for what?"
"A minute to figure out what the hell’s even going on here," I said, dunking a fry into ketchup so deep it emerged half-drowned in nuclear-red sauce.
The food arrived suspiciously fast.
"Think something’s off here?" Oscar whispered conspiratorially, sipping his juice.
"Not sure yet," I muttered. "Alright, time to make that call."
I walked over to the wall-mounted phone and picked up the receiver. As the dial tone buzzed in my ear, I patted my pockets for the scrap of paper with the number.
"Damn it!" I slammed the receiver back down hard enough to make the waitress flinch.
"What’s your problem?" Oscar hissed, darting over. "You’ll scare off the regulars—they don’t like loudmouths here."
"Must’ve left the number in my pants pocket," I growled. "Probably soaked through after the lake. The ink’s gone. Perfect."
"Relax! Even if it’s ruined, we’ll just go back to the stop and tear off a fresh one. Easy!" Oscar said, trying to sound upbeat.
"I wanted to sort out the bike today, Oz," I sighed, rubbing my temples. The exhaustion was hitting hard.