Second Chance Summer

“Okay,” I said, taking a step out of his office, then another one, as he began to ease the door shut. “But where should I—”

“Start at the snack bar,” he said. “See what needs doing. Welcome aboard!” With that, he shut the door firmly in my face.

I looked around, and seeing no other options, headed to the snack bar. I had only ever approached it from the front, after scrounging quarters and pennies, or finding a crumpled, sandy dollar bill in my beach bag, usually to get a Cherry Coke or a frozen Milky Way to split with Lucy. But down the hall from Fred’s office there was a door clearly marked SNACK BAR EMPLOYEES ONLY, so I took a breath and pushed it open, hoping someone in there could tell me exactly what I was supposed to be doing, preferably without fish anecdotes.

From the other side of the counter, the snack bar was fairly small and cramped. The soda fountain lined the one wall, along with a large silver refrigerator and two freezer cases. Behind that was a grill and fry station. There were shelves displaying the chip options and posters showing the ice-cream bars available, and there were individually wrapped pieces of candy, on sale for a quarter, on the counter.

“Don’t. Move,” a voice from behind me said. I whirled around and saw a guy sitting on the counter, perfectly still, a rolled-up newspaper raised above his head.

I had thought I’d been alone in the snack bar, and my heart was beating hard from the shock that I wasn’t. “Hi,” I stammered when I’d gotten some of my composure back. “I’m—”

“Shh,” he hissed, his voice low and steady, still not looking at me. “Don’t scare it away.”

I froze, and tried to see to what he was raising his newspaper at, but could only see the empty counter. I suddenly had a horrible fear that made me not only want to move—and fast—but also jump up on the counter with him. “Is it a mouse?” I whispered, feeling my skin begin to crawl. If it was, I didn’t care about what he said, I was getting out of there as soon as possible.

“No,” the guy murmured, concentration still on the counter. “It’s a fly. He’s been taunting me all morning. But I will have my victory.”

“Oh,” I said quietly. I shifted from foot to foot, wondering how long this was going to go on—and also what we were supposed to do if any customers came. In the silence that soon fell between us, all his concentration focused on the fly, I took the opportunity to look at the guy. Something about him was ringing long-ago bells of recognition. It was hard to tell because he was sitting, but he looked short and somewhat stocky. He was wearing nerdy-cool glasses and had close-cropped brown hair. “I’ve almost got him,” the guy suddenly whispered, leaning forward, newspaper poised. “Just don’t move, and—”

“Oh, my God!” The door to the employee entrance was flung open with a bang, causing both me and the guy to jump, and the fly presumably to make his escape. A girl breezed past me and the guy, hanging her purse on a hook around the corner, talking loud and fast. I caught a glimpse of long dark hair and a purple T-shirt, and a feeling of dread crept into my stomach. “You are not going to believe what happened to me this morning. I was just riding into work, minding my own business, when this absolute idiot—” The girl came back around the corner to face us, and froze when she saw me.

I did the same. Standing in front of me was the girl in the purple shirt, the one whom I’d almost run off the road this morning, the one who’d given me the finger.

Who also happened to be Lucy Marino, my former best friend.

Chapter ten

I JUST STARED AT LUCY. AS WITH HENRY, IT TOOK MY MIND A second to reconcile her twelve-year-old appearance with the current version. Lucy and I had been around the same height when we were kids, but it seemed like she hadn’t grown nearly as much as I had, because she was now a good four inches shorter than me, and curvy, like we’d both once hoped to be. Her hair was still dark brown and shiny, but what had been an unruly mass of curls was now sleek and straight. Her olive-toned skin was already tan, and she was wearing expertly applied makeup, clearly at some point in the last five years having moved on from our clumsy first attempts at eyeliner.

Lucy blinked at me, then narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. “What the hell are you doing here?” she asked, sounding equal parts baffled and angry. The guy on the counter looked to me and raised his eyebrows.

“I… um,” I started. I gestured behind me in the direction of Fred’s office. “Fred told me to come in here. I’m working here now.”

“Really.” Lucy didn’t phrase it as a question.

“Really?” The guy on the counter did. He hopped off and relinquished his weapon, dropping the newspaper on the counter.

“Yes,” I said, without as much conviction as I would have preferred, since I was beginning to wonder if this was really such a good idea. And it hit me a moment later that Lucy’s presence at this job explained Henry’s hesitation when I’d told him I was working here.

“Excellent,” the guy said. “Reinforcements.” He held out his hand and shook mine a little too firmly, maybe having read the same book as Warren. “I’m Elliot.”

It clicked into place then. I could suddenly see him, at ten, even stockier and shorter, with glasses that weren’t nearly as fashionable, hanging out by the pool snack bar, one of those kids who always had a deck of cards and was constantly trying to get some kind of game going. He’d been primarily Henry’s friend, but sometimes the three of us would hang out, especially when it was raining and there was nothing else to do.

“Taylor,” I said. “Do you…?” I paused, suddenly realizing how pathetic it was to have to ask someone if they remembered you.

“Oh,” Elliot said, eyebrows flying up. “Taylor.” He glanced at Lucy, then back to me. Lucy was looking straight ahead, glaring out at the water, as though even the sight of me was too much for her to take. “Sorry I didn’t recognize you. It’s been a while, huh?”

I nodded. “It really has,” I said. Silence fell among us all, and then Elliot cleared his throat.

“Welcome,” he said. “Are you going to be working the snack bar?”

“Kind of,” I said. I looked over at Lucy, catching her eye for a second before she looked pointedly away again. “Also doing something with the movies…” My voice trailed off, and I realized just how little I knew about what this job would entail.