How to Meet Boys (5 page)

“Why do you have to be so grown-up and mature-sounding?” Lucy complained. She ordered an iced tea and I opted for a hot chai latte. Once we got our drinks, we moved into the far room and found a table to sit at, near the small wooden stage where musicians performed on the weekends. I remembered coming to a couple of shows the summer before.

“Luce, you’re fine. That was so long ago. You’re different.”

“I don’t feel all that different,” Lucy said. “I know I should, but it’s still so embarrassing. And then beyond that, it just really sucked to lose a friend.”

“So how would I recognize Jackson if I did see him?” I asked. “I still don’t even know what he looks like, remember?”

“You know, I don’t have any pictures of him, and even if I did he wouldn’t look the same now,” Lucy said.

“Facebook?” I suggested.

“Even easier, you can see him at the store, I guess.” Lucy put her head in her hands. “The store. I can’t believe we’re working together at the store. I mean, just shoot me now.”

“Maybe you won’t work together that often. You won’t have the same shifts all the time, right?” I asked. “There will be other people working there to make it easier.”

“There are only the two of us, remember? The store isn’t that big. And my grandparents don’t trust anyone else,” Lucy said.

“How about if you ask your grandmother to cut back on his hours?” I suggested.

“Ha! I can’t ask my grandmother to do anything,” she said. “I told her that it might be extremely awkward and she wasn’t sympathetic at all. She said I’d just have to get over it. And she’s right. I mean, we’re
going
to have this totally awesome summer—I won’t let the fact that Jackson’s my coworker ruin it for me.” She paused. “I guess I knew he could be around, since his grandparents live here too, but I didn’t consider that—you know.”

“You’d be coworkers,” I said.

“Exactly.” She sipped her iced tea. “Okay, so tell me about some of
your
coworkers for a change. There has to be more than one. Any cute guys?”

I thought back to my first day at the Club. “There’s this guy at the security gate named Liam. He’s slightly rude.” I touched my forehead gingerly to see how my cut was doing. “And I nearly ran into someone on my bike. He was attractive but I’m sure he was on his way out of town, because that would be my luck.”

Lucy didn’t respond at first—she didn’t even seem to be listening to me. She was staring across the room, or maybe into space. “I just thought of something,” she said.

“What?” I asked.

“Could
I
get a job at the Club?” she said, sounding excited by the prospect. “Because that would solve a lot of my problems. I mean, my main problem. Jackson,” she said in a soft voice, as if I didn’t know what or who she was talking about.

“Do you seriously think your grandparents would be okay with you working somewhere else? You’re their apple star,” I reminded her.

“Apple ambassador,” she corrected me.

I rolled my eyes. “Whatever.”

“No, probably not. Nana pleaded with me for months and got us the house. I can’t ditch her now.” Lucy finished off her iced tea. “I’m going for a refill. You need one?”

“Not yet. I’ll hold the table,” I said. The place was filling up fast. I picked up a discarded local free paper from the next table over and started leafing through it, looking for upcoming events. There were free concerts at the pavilion by the main beach, starting that weekend. The deck at Walleye Mafia was hosting live music every Thursday night. Ads for kayak rentals caught my eye; I was hoping to do some exploring by boat over the summer, maybe even an overnight trip by kayak. I was hoping Lucy would feel like adventuring with me, because I wasn’t sure I knew enough about the outdoors to pull it off on my own.
Maybe I could find a group to go with
, I mused. The BBC was full of potential friends; I just had to sort out who was who.

I glanced up, wondering what was taking Lucy so long. She was chatting with a couple of girls at a table by the front door—old friends, I guessed, from other summers here.

“Excuse me,” a deep voice above me said.

I looked up and saw a guy standing in front of me. He looked like he was about my age, or maybe older, in college, because he was wearing a maroon University of Minnesota wrestling T-shirt. I know. I’m really good at picking up clues about guys that way.

“Hey,” he said. “Anyone else have this table?” He gestured to the table next to ours, which still had a coffee mug on it.

“I don’t . . . no,” I said, shaking my head. “I haven’t seen anyone.”

“Cool.” He brought the mug to the dirty dishes bin, then sat down and scooted in his chair, which was right next to mine. “So, you find anything good in there?” he asked.

“Good?” I said.

“The newspaper?” He pointed at it.

Duh. It was only right in front of my face,

“Should I . . . maybe? I’ll check?” Great. Only managed to say, like, two words and I sounded like I had never had a conversation in my life. Was there a school for this? A medication, maybe?

“I was hoping there’d be a show here tonight, but I guess there isn’t one. Maybe a local band’s playing somewhere else?”

“Uh, I’m not . . . sure. You want?” I held the newspaper to him.

He narrowed his eyes at me. “Where are you from?” he asked.

“Minneapolis?” I said.

He gave me the oddest look, took the paper, pushed his chair back, and walked out of the café.
Whatever
, I thought. Did he have something against Minneapolis? If he just wanted the free newspaper, why didn’t he ask for it? Why did he make me have such an awkward conversation? There were free newspapers in a rack by the entrance. What was his problem?

Lucy returned just then, carrying a large cookie along with her refill. “Were you just talking to that guy?”

“No. Not really.” Some things were too humiliating to admit even to a close friend.

“Potential?” Lucy asked.

I thought of the look on his face whenever I answered his questions. He probably thought I was from Russia. I did sound a little like my grandmother, who had emigrated to the United States when she was a teenager and still had an accent. She could speak English perfectly, but sometimes she pretended not to when she didn’t want to talk to someone—like if someone at the mall asked her to take a survey, or someone outside Bread & Chocolate asked her to sign a petition (some group staked out that corner every weekend). She would say something like “Excusing me, I not understand,” and move on.

She
would say, “I’m not sure, you want?” and that would be on purpose. I was saying it because I had no “talk to cute boy” function. My model was lacking that. I needed an upgrade.

“But you know what? Maybe it’s time we go out on a limb and try to meet someone—talk to someone completely out of the blue, just like he did,” I said. “If other people can do it, why can’t we?”

“Um, because we’re horrible at it?” she reminded me.

I looked around the crowded café. So much potential. So little nerve.

UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

HarperCollins Publishers

..................................................................

You can do this
, I told myself on
Thursday morning as I walked from the car to The Original Apple Store.

Maybe your history with Jackson says otherwise, but you can do this.

He’s just a person. A person who happens to be the reason you wanted to hide under a rock during your eighth grade graduation ceremony, and the reason all your pictures from that time show a very sad and awkward-looking Lucy. But still, he’s just another human being, even if he did act like a horrible one once upon a time.

I unlocked the door and walked into the Apple Store. My grandfather was standing by the register. Next to him was Jackson.

My pulse was climbing, but not out of control. Probably the apple-scented reed diffusers were having a calming effect on me, the way certain herbal smells are used to calm pets before they get stuck in a kennel and flown cross-country in the cargo hold. We did that for our dog once. Sigh. I missed Kingsley. He lived with my dad now.

We didn’t open for customers for another fifteen minutes, so this was our chance to learn anything we hadn’t already picked up. Like: how to be around each other after three years of deliberately avoiding each other.

“Good morning, Lucy!” my grandfather’s cheerful voice rang out.

“Hi, Grandpa.” I gave a little wave and quickly scooted behind the two of them to stash my bag in the little office, up high on a shelf.
Don’t sweat it. You can do this
, I told myself as I emerged from the office, taking a deep breath and letting it out the way my mom does in her yoga workouts.

My mantra was starting to bore me. Just because it worked for taking standardized tests didn’t mean it would work with people. Besides, who even knew if I could do this? That’s the problem with mantras and other things I try to tell myself: they don’t always convince me.

When I turned around, Grandpa and Jackson were both looking at me, as if they were just waiting for me, frozen in time, before they could do another thing.

“Hey,” Jackson said. He paused. “Lucy.”

Again with greeting me with the long break between words. Well, two could play at that game, even if it was a very dull game. “Hey,” I said. Wait for it, wait for it . . . “Jackson.”

Only my mouth was all tense because my jaw was clenched so it came out as “Shee-shaw.” Like I’d just gotten my jaw wired shut and was only allowed to drink my meals in liquid form.

“About time you showed up, Lucy,” Grandpa said.

“What?” It was nine forty-five, which was when they’d told me to be there. I glanced at Jackson. “But you said—”

Grandpa smiled and clapped me on the back. “Just messing with you,” he said. “You’re right on time.”

“Ha ha,” I said, pushing him slightly with my shoulder.

“It’s just that Jackson here was early, which kind of puts him on the nice list,” Grandpa said. “You, on the other hand? Naughty list all the way.”

“Grandpa, seriously? Are you really keeping track of that stuff now? Christmas is six months off.”

“No kidding. And I’m not Santa Claus—although I did play him once or twice,” my grandpa said.

“On TV?” asked Jackson.

“No. In the living room.” My grandfather laughed.

I couldn’t help noticing that Jackson and I looked kind of idiotic standing there in our Apple Store T-shirts. Like we were siblings and had matching red shirts because it was time for our yearly Christmas picture.

My grandpa and his reference to nice and naughty lists had started me off on a weird train of thought.

Jackson sort of turned toward me, and I panicked, not sure what to do or say. I hurried over to my grandpa as he headed for the back door. “You’re going to leave right away? Really?”

“Yes, really,” he said.

“But it’s our first day! We might need you,” I said.
Me in particular. Because I need a buffer between me and Jackson at all times, thank you.

“The store has a phone. I have a phone. I don’t see a problem,” he replied. “Besides, your grandmother will be in later.”

“Yeah, but . . ”

“Lucy.” He smiled. “Did you think we hired you so we could hang out and visit all day? We have things to do. That’s why we want you and Jackson to mind the store.”

Ouch. “Okay,” I said. “No, you’re right. Of course. Uh, bye!”

He walked out and I turned around, feeling dumb. Fortunately, Jackson was busy restocking the apple bar. If he was embarrassed for me for acting like a six-year-old, at least he didn’t show it. While his back was turned, I checked him out for a second. How tall exactly had he gotten? Six feet? And me, I had only grown like two inches. How was that fair?

He suddenly turned slightly and I quickly made myself busy straightening a table of T-shirts. Being a weekday early in the season, I didn’t really expect the store would get a ton of business. That was a good thing and a bad thing. We needed the time to learn what we were doing, but we might be stuck alone in the store with nothing to say to each other. For eight hours. Eight long, endless, awkward hours.

I got a lunch break, right? I was dying to know if, and when, I got a lunch break. But that would leave Jackson in the store all by himself. That wouldn’t be fair. Why had my grandparents not gone over this with us? At my other job, at the coffee chain in the mall, this kind of stuff was set in stone. You couldn’t walk a foot without hitting some kind of posted rule, regulation, or encouraging team language.

“So. You do this last summer too?” Jackson asked.

“Oh. No. Uh uh.” I shook my head. “I was in the Cities.”

“Really? I could have sworn I saw you up here,” he said.

“Maybe on vacation,” I said. “I was here for a week or two.”

“Oh.” He nodded. “I was here the whole summer, so.”

“So, yeah.” I nodded and sort of laughed. I sounded strange and uncomfortable, which was exactly how I felt. “Um, so did my grandfather go over what we should do?”

“There’s a list.” Jackson pointed to the counter, near the cash register.

“Right, right.” My grandmother had already shown me the list, but I’d forgotten.

I walked over to the counter and found the handwritten, laminated “Daily To-Do” list, with a Post-it note on top saying:

While I was reading it, Jackson came over to stand beside me. “So what else is on the list? I restocked the apples.”

“Um, you want to clean the windows and doors or fold stuff?” I asked.