CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
AMELIA IS THE FIRST ONE at the stand the next morning. She arrives with a Tupperware full of sweet corn muffins, which she stress-baked the night before, a tub of butter, and a container of orange juice. Her plan is to call all the girls into the stand for a staff meeting and lay herself bare, tell them everything that’s been going on, share Molly’s diary with them. Try to explain her feelings for Grady and her reasons for hiding them. And, most of all, she’ll voice her regret over losing sight of the most important tenet of being a Meade Creamery girl—that the relationships created here are the most important thing.
She already has the text written in her phone, but she needs the newbies’ phone numbers, which she’s hoping to find somewhere in the office.
As soon as she unlocks the stand door, a strange, foreign smell hits her. Like something’s been burning. She worries at first that the walk-in freezer has shorted out, and she rushes in to check on it, knocking over something made of glass. She stoops and sees an overturned Meade Dairy bottle. Inside is a sludge of sooty water with several waterlogged cigarette butts.
Amelia flicks on the lights. Though she cleaned the entire stand yesterday, it’s been turned upside down: couch cushions damp and in a circle on the main floor, pictures crooked, and the radio off the shelf, dangling upside down by its black cord.
She opens the bathroom and recoils at the smell of vomit.
Back outside, she lifts the heavy plastic lid on the dumpster. Inside is a pile of beer bottles and crushed beer cans.
She finds more beer cans inside the walk-in freezer. These were left behind, and they have exploded. Icy beer has splattered all over the drums of ice cream Amelia made earlier in the week. The whole freezer smells yeasty.
Amelia goes back into the office and pulls out her phone. She’s shaking, she’s so angry. After a bit of scrolling, she comes across several pictures from the party here. The girls having fun together. Playing cards on the office desk. A dance party in the stand. Running through the trees in the dark.
That last picture makes Amelia remember once coming home late from her grandmother’s house on a summer night, when she was just a kid. It was past midnight; her mother was asleep against the car window. They drove past the stand, long closed to customers, but the girls were still there, sitting around the picnic tables, talking, their voices a streak of sound that came and went as the car passed by.
But last night’s party was not just stand girls. There were other people here from the high school, too. Pictures of Dane Zapotowsky and Christopher Win feeding each other ice cream straight from the scoop. A Boomerang of Zoe Metcalf throwing fistfuls of sprinkles in the air on repeat. Three of Cate’s Academic Decathlon teammates lying stacked like a sandwich across the office couch. John Stislow sticking his hand straight into the vat of chocolate dip.
Amelia hears Cate’s truck pull up outside. All three newbies are in her truck. They look totally worse for wear, green and unsteady.
Cate comes in. Amelia knows she’s surprised to see her, because Cate avoids her eyes as she passes her.
“Looks like you had some party here last night,” Amelia says, trying to keep her emotions in check.
“We had a great time.” Cate stretches. “Sorry I didn’t think to invite you. I figured you’d be busy with your boyfriend.”
The newbies all snap to attention.
“Grady isn’t my boyfriend,” Amelia says, trying to project a little bit of confidence, because this is true, Grady isn’t. “But yes. Grady and I have kissed. A few times.” Turning to the newbies, she says, “I’m sorry.”
Cate sneers. “I thought Grady was cute too, you know. I could have gone after him, but I didn’t, because we had a pact.” She rolls her eyes. “Meade Creamery has been open for how many years now? Drama-free? One summer, one boy, and it all comes crashing down, thanks to you, Amelia.”
“That’s not fair. You know the stand, and you girls, are the most important things to me.”
“You chose Grady over us. It’s as simple as that. And he’s had you wrapped around his little finger all summer.” At this point, Cate turns to walk into the office. “It’s honestly pathetic but not surprising.”
“So is that why you had a party here? To get back at me? Because you know there’s not supposed to be anyone but employees in the stand. And newbies aren’t ever allowed to drink.” Amelia expects Cate to look at least a little bit guilty, but she doesn’t. If anything, she’s indignant, folding her arms across her chest.
“Isn’t that convenient,” Cate says. “I’m the one who has to follow the rules, but you don’t.”
Amelia tries to explain. “It just . . . happened.” That’s about all she can get out before she feels the tears come.
Amelia sees something soften in Cate when Cate sees her cry. “Look, I don’t blame you. I blame Grady. He’s been taking advantage of you from the second you met.”
“That’s not true.”
“Why are you defending him? He’s using you, Amelia!”
Amelia shakes her head. “No, he’s not.” If there’s one thing Amelia is certain of, it’s that.
“You’re such a pushover.”
She’s reminded of how many times Cate has called her a pushover this summer. And it suddenly hits her: it’s true—but it’s Cate, and not Grady, who’s always doing the pushing.
“What about you?” Amelia asks. “Are you sorry?”
“For what?”
“You’re the Head Girl, Cate. That job comes with a certain level of responsibility.”
Cate seems to wave this away. “Look. Last night started off as just us girls hanging out, but then some other friends dropped by. Dane had beer left over from his family’s Fourth of July party, and they were drinking it. I’m not going to police the girls. They can make decisions for themselves.”
“The place is trashed. And there are like at least twenty drums of ice cream that have been ruined in there by exploding beer cans.”
“So take it out of my pay.”
“Do you even care about this place?”
“Oh, here we go.”
“Because you’re always late, the stand looks like hell, everything’s slipping. And now this? Throwing a party here and leaving the place trashed? I don’t get it. I thought you wanted to be Head Girl.”
“Of course I did. And we both know I deserved it.”
“So why are you acting like you don’t care about it? And when I try and talk to you about work stuff, you completely shut me down.”
“Because it’s not exactly easy doing things my way when I have you watching over me all the time! Judging me for everything I do because it’s not the way you would do it!”
“You’re right. I would have never, ever thrown a party like this. And I definitely wouldn’t let newbies drink. They’re barely out of eighth grade, Cate.” The Head Girls didn’t let Amelia and Cate drink until they were juniors, and even then, they kept a close watch on them.
Cate shrugs. “So what do you want? An apology? If anything, you should apologize to me, to all of us girls, for ruining our summer.”
Amelia feels an apology bubble up. She does have a lot she’s sorry for. But instead, she takes a deep breath and says, “Yes. I do want you to apologize. And I want you to promise that you’ll try harder. That you’ll do a better job. That you’ll work hard and respect the traditions and take it seriously. Because this place is going to fall apart unless you do.”
“Are you kidding me? Meade Creamery is falling apart, Amelia. Do you not remember that we almost got washed away during that rainstorm yesterday?”
“Is that a no? Because if it is, I don’t think there’s a place for you here anymore.”
It’s so suddenly silent that all Amelia can hear is the quiet wheezing of the tired, failing walk-in freezer.
Cate starts laughing. “Give me a break.”
“Is that a yes or a no, Cate?”
“That’s a screw you.”
Her words do sting. But Amelia simply says, “Then you’re fired.”
“You don’t have the authority to fire me. I’m Head Girl.”
This may or may not be true. But Amelia doesn’t blink. “Take your stuff and go.”
Cate’s laugh turns into a sneer. “I don’t need this. I’ll see you girls around.”
Her adrenaline surging, Amelia says, “Wait. Give me the pin back.”
When Cate turns around, her face is contorted into a pucker that Amelia has never seen before. A line in their friendship has been crossed that Amelia isn’t sure she’ll be able to get back over.
Cate takes off the pin and sets it on the desk. Then she peels off her polo shirt so she’s in just a tank top, and drops it into the trash can on her way out, the door whacking against the stand so hard that one of the milk bottles tumbles off its roof beam and shatters.
The girls stare in stunned silence.
Amelia goes into the office. Pushing her muffins aside, she lays her head down on the desk and cries.
* * *
Amelia’s not sure exactly how long she spends crying, but when she reemerges from the office, she has a splitting headache. But the three newbies are still there, having cleaned up the mess from the party. And not just them. All of the girls are there now.
Minus Cate.
Jen notices Amelia first, elbows Mansi. Then all the girls turn to face her.
“I’m so sorry,” Amelia announces, her voice breaking. “I never wanted to fight with Cate in front of you, never mind fire her.”
Liz says, “It’s okay, Amelia.”
Sophie says, “You were right. Cate wasn’t a very good manager.”
“She was super fun,” Mansi adds.
“But not, like, good at the job part of the job,” Sophie says.
“It was worse than you know, actually. Cate was always late with the schedule.”
“She basically never did any chores.”
“We seriously don’t care if you’re dating Grady. That’s your business.”
Amelia shakes her head. “No. I made a promise. And Grady is my boss. It’s not right.”
Bern shakes her head. “You’re the boss of this place, Amelia.”
Amelia manages a weak smile. It would be the ultimate compliment, if not for the fact of everything.