Star Shack (13 page)

It used to be the best day of the summer, of course. Pete and I would celebrate together with laser tag when I turned thirteen, a big carnival day when I turned fourteen, an all-day boating trip when I turned fifteen, and last year, sixteen, was the magical dinner at the resort followed by our first kiss. Perfection.

And look at me now.

Vanessa is staring at me, concern on her face. “You have plans, right?”

Normally, by now I'd be begging Pete to tell me what he'd cooked up. The ugly reality is that I'm clearly looking at the worst birthday of my life. Which I guess makes sense since this is the worst summer of my life.

“Um, yeah,” I say. I can't admit the truth.

“Great,” she says, cheerful again. “Well, I'm meeting John for dinner. He's taking me to the new all-you-can-eat raw bar at Kitty's.”

“Sounds fun.”

“See you later! Let me know about your birthday!”

I am finally alone.

I sit down in the good chair and put my face in my hands. Then I look around the Star Shack at the posters I hung so carefully, the signs I made, the forms I printed up, and the pile of astrology books. What was I thinking when I strong-armed Pete into the dare? Did I honestly believe it would help me get him back?

It is such a joke. The Star Shack has brought romance into the lives of so many friends and strangers I've lost count. It even softened the heart of the bitter shrew. This place has brought joy to legions, yet for me it's brought only one thing: complete misery.

I walk out, not bothering to straighten up or even lock the door. What do I care if the place gets broken into? I'd just as soon never set foot in it again. I continue home, barely seeing anything around me, the rain cold on my body. I will spend this night alone, just like last night, just like tomorrow night, and just like my birthday. I don't know exactly when things started to unravel, leaving me in this void, but I do know this: I am counting the days until we leave Gingerbread. I am never coming back again.

Born April 3: Aries

Rising Sign: Taurus

Your stubborn nature irritates some, but your solid determination often brings you the rewards you seek, especially in love. Those around you celebrate your enthusiasm and zest for life. This summer, take stock of yourself. You have a gift; don't be afraid to use it.

The phase of the moon at the exact time of your birth can give a whole other layer of meaning to the interpretation of your birth chart.

Wow, that sounds intense. My copy of
Astrology for the Serious Star Searcher
is well worth the money for gems like this. Though as I read further, I realize it takes a professional to figure it out since it depends on the number of degrees between the sun and the earth. I wonder if I could figure it out on my own if I read more about it—but most of these books discourage “lesser people” from trying the hard stuff. Well, screw it: so do baseball coaches.

My phone vibrates with a text that I don't bother reading.
Sarah
. There's no way I'm going to spend the night hearing about how she's going to decorate her college dorm room. Her new obsessive conversation piece is almost as boring as the senior prom conversation, but less mind numbing than the tattoo one.

Holy crap.
This is where I am: rating my girlfriend's conversation on degrees of boring. Honestly, she can't find my talking about baseball and astrology very interesting, can she? The passage gets me thinking about a customer yesterday who had some unusual traits for a Pisces—which could be explained by this moon-phase thing—but then the phone vibrates again, snapping my concentration. I reach over and turn it off. There's no one I need to talk to tonight. I just want to get into this book so I can be even more on target at the Star Shack tomorrow.

The whole thing with Nate has me realizing a few things. I have an agenda now, an agenda that starts with becoming an astrology expert.

***

“If we had more time, we could get into nodes of the moon at the time of your birth,” I say to the twenty-something slacker tourist who is getting up from the customer chair. “But I think you've got what you need to score a date.”

He reaches over to fist bump me—nothing like a good astrology reading to make guys bond. “Thanks, brother,” he says as he heads out. “Name's Jason, by the way. Jason Morrison. Like the lead singer of the Doors.”

I try to smile. Wasn't the lead singer of the Doors named Jim Morrison? But whatever—the customer is always right. “Cool. Um…peace.”

“Nodes of the moon?” Annabelle snaps once he's disappeared onto the boardwalk.

“You don't know about them?” I ask. “It's pretty cool, actually.”

“Of course I know about them. I just don't think it's relevant in a ten-minute reading.”

I shrug. “Maybe not. But I thought it was at least worth mentioning in case he decides to get his birth chart done later or something.”

Annabelle rolls her eyes. “Who's the astrology freak now? Isn't that the whole point of the dare? Can't you see that I won?”

Before I can answer, the door flies open and Sarah stomps in.

“Where have you been?” she asks, glowering at me.

“Um…here? Also at home doing astrology research.”

“At home doing astrology research,” she repeats, in a tone that suggests I've been mutilating dead bodies in my free time. “Why would you be doing that?”

“Because I run a horoscope business?” I say defensively. “It's cool when you get into it.” I shoot a look at Annabelle to see if she'll jump in with her usual defense of astrology, but she is looking as annoyed as Sarah, which I don't get.

“Right,” Sarah says, biting off the word. “Well, cool or not, I expect to see you tonight at the rec hall.”

“Really? You want me to go to the lame dance?”

She holds up a hand and stares me into silence. “Be there,” she says and then storms out, slamming the door behind her and rattling the booth so much that the leaky roof splatters rain on the floor.

“Better do what she says,” Annabelle says dryly, straightening the customer forms. “You wouldn't want to get in trouble.”

I glare at her. “We have a relationship where there's give and take on both sides,” I say, now even more annoyed that she's pushed me to defend the sham. But even as the words come out, I realize that they sound like a joke.

“Some relationship,” she mutters.

“At least I'm in a relationship,” I snap. This is not my agenda at all. Should I just come out and tell her the truth about her wallet? But she should just know, right? I assumed she did…I'm not doing anything right, which I can totally see in Annabelle's face as her eyes widen and her cheeks flush. “Hey, Annabelle, I—”

“Forget it…you're right,” she says. “And here's our next customer.”

I spend the next ten minutes telling some tourist named Martin he's been chasing the wrong kind of girl his whole life, and it's time to take a risk and go after a Scorpio or Capricorn and challenge himself to a relationship with someone as stubborn and determined as he is.

“You don't just want to date doormats,” I say. “You can handle the challenge of a hardheaded woman.”

Martin is nodding like I've just changed his life.

“If you have a gift, you should use it,” I conclude.

“You guys are fabulous,” Martin says, though really Annabelle just sat there drinking coffee and staring off into space the whole time.

“Thanks. We try. This whole thing was her idea, you know.”

“Well, I can see why this is the hot spot on the boardwalk,” he says, thumbing through his wallet and pulling out a twenty. “A woman behind me in line drove from three towns over to get a reading.”

“Pretty insane,” I say, handing him change.

“Listen. I'm having a party Saturday for my eighteenth birthday, and you guys should come. It's going to be a real blowout at the resort—a band, everything.”

“Sounds great,” I say, glancing at Annabelle, whose face is blank. “We'll be there, right?”

She doesn't even acknowledge me. Instead she smiles at Martin. “Thanks, but I think I'm busy then. Happy birthday, though.”

“Well, if you change your mind…” Martin heads out the door.

“Don't ever make plans for me like that again!” Annabelle says angrily.

I flinch. “What? I didn't think—”

“You don't know anything about my life, Pete,” she interrupts. With that, she motions in the next customer and refuses to say a word to me for the rest of the day.

And thus begins the Annabelle Lomax silent treatment, which lasts for three straight days. Though I suppose I should have seen it coming. When Leos feel slighted, they tend to overreact.

***

By the third day of the silent treatment, I've had it. She needs to grow up already. I swear it's like we're in second grade the way she responds to everything I say with a nod or a shrug. Am I not the one who got her wallet back? Am I not worth the trouble of taxing her vocal cords?

Just when I'm about to slam the door and demand a real, actual conversation, Jed and Daisy stop by. Perfect. I roll my eyes, groan, and flop back into the chair. The loose screw digs into my back. (Another thing: no thanks for volunteering to take the bad chair the last three days, either.)

“Hey guys,” Jed says, giving us each a to-go cup of coffee. In all his life, Jed has never made a delivery. Now he's bringing us freebies. The tops of the cups are covered with raindrops from Jed and Daisy's walk over. I don't get it.

“Thanks, this is just what I needed,” Annabelle says, as if it's totally natural.

“Yeah, thanks,” I say. “But—”

“We wanted you to be the first to know,” Daisy says, almost squealing. “We're getting married!”

A couple of people in line cheer.

“That's fantastic!” Annabelle says.

“Totally,” I agree.

“It's all thanks to you guys,” Daisy gushes.

Jed squeezes her hand. “It's true. I'd still be working my butt off serving coffee alone if you guys hadn't fired up my girl here to ask me out.”

Daisy leans over and kisses him. “It was the most important day of my life. We'll have the wedding next summer, and we want you guys to be in it.”

“Really?” I gasp.

Jed nods. “Really.”

Wow.
This is heavy. Heavier than I ever expected for a dare made out of anger. But still…pretty awesome. “I'd be honored,” I say truthfully.

There is a silence, and we all look over at Annabelle.

“Um, actually I'm not coming to Gingerbread next summer.” She forces a fragile smile. “I'm sorry—but definitely send me pictures and a video.”

The rest of the conversation is lost on me. Annabelle isn't coming back to Gingerbread? The summer before college? I can't believe it. It wouldn't
be
Gingerbread without her. And what could possibly keep her away? I mean, I know her Grandma is planning to take her to Greece—but for the whole summer? I'd ask if she was actually talking to me. There is a commotion as Jed and Daisy wave good-bye. Sarah strides in, her eyes flashing.

“So what are we doing tonight?” she asks me, hands on her hips, seemingly oblivious to that fact that everyone in line is staring at her through the door.

“What do you mean?” I begin, with no idea where I'm going. This would be easier without an audience, but everyone is glued in place—even Daisy and Jed, looking back and forth between me and Sarah to see what will happen.

“I'm through with you,” Sarah says, hitting each word with emphasis. “I've been wasting my summer with an immature high school boy,” she says. “Have fun reading your little astrology charts. I'm going to find a man.” With that, she storms out, her feet splashing on the boardwalk.

Did she really say, “I'm going to find a man”? Yes. Yes, she did.
I let out a long sigh, not sure whether it's in joyous relief or irritation. Maybe both?

Jed looks at me sympathetically.

“Ouch,” I say, rubbing my face for a moment. The atmosphere in the booth is tense, in spite of the fact that I want to leap up and burst into song. “Don't worry,” I tell the line of concerned-looking customers. “We got together before I knew our signs were completely incompatible. This will not happen to you.”

There's a chuckle from the crowd. A tourist sits down and starts filling out a chart. I sneak a peak at Annabelle and see her face is stiff. I can't tell what she's thinking about what just happened…or if she even cares that she was totally right about Sarah. Or that I'm suddenly single.

“See you, guys,” Jed says as he and Daisy walk out.

“Big afternoon, huh?” I say to Annabelle, a shaky smile on my face. After the wedding news and my very public dumping, I figure she
has
to talk—but she shrugs.

And after the next reading, she takes off. Not a word of explanation—she's just gone, leaving me with customers and the booth to clean up. I should have told her the truth about Nate. I should have done a lot of things.

I just hope it's not too late.