Fifteenth Summer (11 page)

She cackled, before adding, “The coxswain is usually a girl, because you’re not supposed to weigh too much.”

Then I swore she gave me one of those body-scanning looks, her eyes traveling from my neck to my ankles and back again. My curvy five feet six inches were radically different from her tiny, muscular bod. Involuntarily I crossed my arms over my chest.

The awkward silence that ensued seemed to be all Tori needed to assure herself that I was no threat to her. I could almost see the to-do list forming in her head.

1. Wait until Josh ditches the dishrag who doesn’t even know rudimentary terms like “coxswain” and “crew.”

2. Bring Josh his favorite drink (that I just happen to know, being his coxswain and all).

3. Pretend to trip so he can help me to my feet and take note that I’m as light as a feather and I smell like watermelon body wash.

4. Let the spit-swapping ensue!

Clearly she was confident enough about my drippiness to leave me alone with her crush.

“Ooh, I see Hazel and Callan,” she said, waving wildly at two
girls. When they saw Tori with Josh (and apparently overlooked me entirely), they giggled and flashed her a thumbs-up. Subtle!

“See you later, Joshie,” Tori said before turning to me. “And nice to meet you . . .”

She looked at me, then back at Josh, waiting for an introduction.

Josh turned even redder. Only then did I realize he’d never asked me my name! And I’d never volunteered it.

“Chelsea,” I said, unable to meet Josh’s eyes. “Chelsea Silver. I’m here for the summer from LA.”

“Awesome! I
love
LA,” Tori said brightly. “See you around, Chelsea.”

She practically skipped off to her friends, and when she reached them, they collapsed into a fit of giggles.

She couldn’t have been more obvious about her intentions for Josh if she’d licked his face.

I snuck a sulky glance at him. I expected him to be gazing after Tori. How could he not? She was one of those bright-eyed, bubbly, anybody’s-version-of-pretty types who
commanded
attention.

But instead Josh was looking straight at me. And there seemed to be a new light in
his
eyes.

“So . . . Chelsea Silver,” he said.

“So . . . Joshie,” I said. “Is that what your friends call you?”

“No!” Josh said, rolling his eyes. “And neither does Tori. I don’t know
where
that came from.”

Hello?
I thought.
From her completely obvious crush on you.

I wondered if mine was just as obvious.

“Oh, hey!” Josh said as if he were just remembering something. “Can you hold on a minute?”

“Uh—”

I didn’t have time to respond before he darted toward the refreshments table.

Okay,
I thought, insecurity washing over me.
I guess he’s just really hungry. Boys are like that, right?

That was the thing about living in a house full of women (and one not-exactly-macho accountant). Boys were a complete mystery to me. My main impression from my friends with brothers and/or boyfriends was that boys were
always
hungry. And in those rare, satiated moments when they weren’t dreaming about food, they were obsessed with sex.

Which was a step up from middle-school boys, I guess. They’d seemed to devote most of their energy to coming up with new fart or burp jokes.

So when Josh dashed, I didn’t know if “Hold on a minute” meant, “I’ll be right back” or “Nice talking to you. Off to mingle with other cute girls now. Don’t wait up!”

He was taking a long time at the refreshment table, which was pretty much a disaster by then. He poked around the wet napkins, crushed chips, half-empty soft drink bottles, and discarded paper plates.

I scanned the party for my sisters. It was hard to find anybody among the lanterns, but I finally spotted Hannah leaning back against the railing on the other side of the dock. Pressed up
really
close to her was Liam. He had one arm wrapped around her waist, and he seemed to be aiming his lips for her neck.

Hannah laughed and shoved him away—but not very far away. And she didn’t seem annoyed that this guy was trying to kiss her in front of fifty strangers.

I
was, though. She’d just met the guy! Okay,
re
-met him, but still. Your first kiss with someone new should be at least a
little
private, right?

Abbie clearly agreed with me, because suddenly she appeared at Hannah’s side. She gave Liam a quick, insincere smile before she tugged Hannah away.

I watched them tuck their heads together for a quick conference. Surely Abbie wanted to leave.

But it looked like Hannah wanted to stay.

And me?

Well, that depended. I returned my gaze to the refreshment table and felt my heart sink.

Josh wasn’t there.

I searched the rest of the party, squinting to try to find him in the sea of lights. At that moment I couldn’t remember what he was wearing. All I could picture was his shy, sheepish smile.

Like he was sort of nervous/excited to see me.

Until, maybe, he realized that girls like Tori found him irresistible, and going on a “food run” had become incredibly important.

I ground my teeth in frustration and looked down at my feet. Even in the dim light I could still see my blue shoes and turquoise toenails. They were so bright, they practically glowed. And yet they’d been planted in one spot for most of the night, waiting. Waiting for my sisters, waiting for Josh.

Well, I wasn’t going to wait anymore. I started to head over to Abbie and Hannah. I was going to poke my head into their little conference and announce, “That’s it. We’re leaving!”

And really, really hope they listened to me.

But just as I started across the dock, I heard a voice.

“Chelsea!”

I whipped around to see Josh, standing right where he’d left me. He held two red plastic cups and, in the crook of his arm, a bowl of pretzel rods.

He held one of the cups out.

“I got you something to drink,” he said formally.

I smiled tentatively and walked back to him. He’d braved the gross refreshments table to get me a drink. And snacks! Nobody had ever gotten me drinks and snacks at a party before, except maybe my dad. It seemed like such a grown-up thing to do!

“It’s Faygo Redpop,” Josh said as I took one of the cups. “That was the only one that still had any fizz left.”

Okay,
sort
of grown-up.

Josh thrust the bowl at me, and I took a pretzel rod. Not that I was even slightly interested in eating or drinking right then.

“So, I’m on page forty-two,” Josh blurted. “What about you?”

“Page . . . ?” I was completely confused.

“Coconut Dreams,”
Josh said. “Or did you chuck it after the one-page description of Kai’s smoldering brown eyes?”

I laughed out loud.

“You’re not
actually
reading it,” I said. “Are you?”

“Enough to get to that tragic description of the suckling pig at the luau,” Josh said. “The writer laid it on a
little
thick, didn’t she?”

“Oh my God, yeah,” I said. “All that stuff about the singed eyelashes and little charred tail? I think she wanted us to think of the suckling pig as Wilbur and become vegan activists or something.”

“Lemme tell you,” Josh said, “
Charlotte’s Web
is kind of a thing at Dog Ear, and Veronica Gardner is no E. B. White.”

“But it’s like a car wreck now,” I said, and giggled. “I can’t look away. Plus, the library’s, like,
never
open, and I’ve read everything else in our cottage.”

“You should get that book I showed you,” Josh said. He chomped on a pretzel absently.
“Beyond the Beneath.”

“I’m pretty broke,” I said. “I’m trying to save up for a new e-reader, but at this point I can barely buy myself a paperback. I guess I should look into getting some babysitting jobs, since we’re here for the rest of the summer. I’m waiting until I get desperate enough.”

“Oh, so you have no sympathy for suckling pigs
and
you hate children,” Josh said with teasing grin.

“I like kids,” I protested. “But there’s only so much Candy Land and PB&J a girl can take.”

“Well, how do you feel about tuna salad?” Josh asked.

“Um,” I said, “I guess some kids like it, but—”

“No, I mean you,” Josh said. “I happen to know that Mel and Mel’s is about to put a ‘Help Wanted’ sign in their window.”

“The coffee shop?” I asked.

The coffee shop that’s right next door to the bookstore where you work every day?

“Yeah,” Josh said. “Melissa’s good friends with my mom. She
mentioned that they were looking for somebody new.”

I pictured Mel & Mel’s. It was called a coffee shop, but it wasn’t the kind that had hissing espresso machines and nutmeg-dusted mochas. The coffee was pretty much regular or decaf, poured in endless refills from a potbellied glass carafe with an orange plastic handle. They sold soup and sandwiches, and for dessert they had one of those rotating pie cases. Abbie, Hannah, and I used to press our noses to that glass case when we were little, watching the towering wedges of lemon meringue and chocolate cream pies twirl slowly by. Choosing our flavors had been agonizing.

The waitresses there were old-school. They wore aprons and tucked pens behind their ears. The older ones had leathery necks and wore too much makeup. The young ones always seemed to have lots of tattoos. They called us “sweetie pie” when they plunked down our pink lemonades on the faux wood-grain table. And when they served you pie, they topped it with a big squirt of fake whipped cream, straight from the can.

“I don’t know,” I said, shaking my head. “Do you think they’d be looking for someone like me? I’ve never waited tables before.”

“Do you like cats?” Josh asked.

“They’re okay,” I said.

“Well,
don’t
say that to Melissa,” Josh said. “Tell her you
love
cats, especially calicos. And before you talk to Melanie, make sure you know the score of the most recent Cubs game.”

“O-kay,” I said with a laugh. “Anything else I should know?”

“How are you at chopping up celery and pickles?” Josh quizzed me.

“Oh, those are my specialties,” I joked.

“They’ll love you,” Josh said. Then suddenly he seemed to find his fizzy red drink really interesting, because he ducked his head to stare into it.

And if I could have seen better in the late-night darkness, I would have sworn he was blushing.

Shyly I looked away. That’s when I saw that Abbie was motioning at me frantically from across the dock. When she saw that she’d caught my eye, she pointed dramatically at Hannah and Liam.

They were full-on making out! Yes, they were in a shadowy part of the dock with no lanterns nearby, but you could still see
everything
—Hannah’s fingers in Liam’s hair, his arms clasped tightly around her waist, her ankle wrapped around his.

“Oh my God!” I exclaimed.

“What?” Josh said, following my gaze.

“Never mind!” I cried. “It’s nothing.”

The last thing I wanted Josh to see was my
sister
macking with one of his classmates.

“It’s just,” I said quickly, “I came here with my sisters and I think they’re ready to go.”

“Oh, okay,” Josh said. I was so focused on Hannah’s gross PDA that I couldn’t read Josh’s tone. Was that disappointment I heard in his voice? Or indifference?

“But thanks for the Mel and Mel’s tip,” I said. “You know, I think I’m gonna go for it!”

I had only made the decision that very moment. But suddenly I desperately wanted to tie on an apron and start calling
people “hon.” It sounded kind of fun! More fun, anyway, than changing diapers.

Plus, I couldn’t help but wonder if Josh was a regular at Mel & Mel’s. It
was
just next door.

The way he smiled at me—we’re talking deep dimpling—I kind of thought he might be.

“They open at seven,” he said.

T
he morning after the party I left a note to my parents on the kitchen table and headed for Mel & Mel’s at six forty-five.

Sparrow Road was eerily quiet, and the sunbeams filtered through the trees at a very unfamiliar angle. I was
never
up this early when I was in Bluepointe. But I told myself, maybe just a little defensively, that my job quest had nothing to do with Josh. Okay, not
much
to do with him.

I’m just being a go-getter,
I thought.
Who knows how many people might be lined up for this waitress job?

I also credited the date—the first day of July.

New month, new job—it’s a fresh start. I’m already getting bored with lying around on the beach.

When I arrived at the corner of Main and Althorp, I cast a furtive glance at the not-yet-open Dog Ear, just to make sure nobody was inside. Luckily, it was dark and still, just like most of the other businesses on Main.

The brightly lit coffee shop next door looked sunny and welcoming in comparison. Just as Josh had predicted, there was a
HELP WANTED
sign taped to the glass door.

I peered through the door. One of the Mels, I think it was Melanie, was setting heavy china mugs out on the tables. She wore her chin-length gray hair tied back with a bandanna. Her
apron—layered over jeans and a tank top—was embroidered with a calico cat.

She glanced up and saw me.

“Be right there, sweetie,” she called.

“Oh, okay,” I yelled back. I stepped back to the sidewalk, feeling awkward and intrusive, but Melanie (Melanie, right?) smiled sweetly as she unlocked the door.

“Well!” she said, planting her fists on her hips. “
Somebody’s
really ready for chocolate chip pancakes this morning!”

“Oh, uh, no thanks,” I said. “Chocolate chip pancakes really aren’t my thing.”

I smoothed down the marigold-colored cotton dress I’d chosen. On the plus side, it was very 1960s diner waitress. On the minus, it was horribly wrinkled. I hoped she wouldn’t notice.