Second Chance Summer

A moment later, a red-faced (though not in Fred’s league) middle-aged man came running up to the counter, carrying a little boy piggyback. “Sorry about that,” he wheezed, as he set his son down and leaned on the counter for a moment, taking a breath. “We were trying to get here before five.” The kid, his head just clearing the top of the counter, regarded me solemnly. “Curtis is missing his shovel, and I think you keep the lost and found here?”

“Oh,” I said, a little surprised but nonetheless relieved that they didn’t want me to turn all the equipment back on and make a milk shake or some fries. “Sure.” I pulled the box out and set it on the counter.

The father and son sifted through the items, and, as I watched, the kid’s face broke into a huge smile as he triumphantly lifted a red plastic shovel from the box. “Thanks so much,” the dad said to me as he easily slung his son up on his back again. “I don’t know what he was going to do without it.”

I just nodded and smiled as they went, glancing into the box once more as I put it away. It struck me that each of these items, discarded and left behind, had once been special, important to the people that they belonged to. And even though I couldn’t see it, all it would take was for someone to find them again for them to be restored. I took off the Teachers Do It With Class! sweatshirt and folded it carefully before placing it back in the box and closing up for the night.

Chapter fifteen

“I CAN’T DO THIS.” I STOOD OUTSIDE THE SNACK BAR, NEXT TO Elliot, staring at the crowds of people who had assembled on the beach, facing the screen at the water’s edge, spreading out blankets and towels in the fading light. Overhead, the stars were beginning to emerge, and the moon was almost full, hanging over the lake and doubling itself in the reflection. It would have been a perfect night to see a movie outdoors. But, instead, it appeared that I was going to have an aneurysm.

“You’ll be fine,” Elliot said, in what I’m sure he thought was a reassuring voice, but was actually just his regular voice, only deeper. He turned to Lucy, who was frowning at the popcorn machine we were using for the night. “Won’t she?”

“Okay, I have no idea how to work this,” Lucy said, poking at the metal contraption at the top. She looked at Elliot. “Do you?”

“Seriously,” I said, and I could hear that my voice was a little strangled. I leaned back against the counter for support, and even though I could practically feel Lucy rolling her eyes at me, I no longer cared. I was pretty sure I was about to pass out. Which didn’t seem like a bad idea, considering the circumstances. If I passed out, I wouldn’t have to introduce the movie.

“Are you okay?” Elliot asked, peering at me. “You look a little green.”

“Taylor!” I looked across the sand to see my mother waving at me. She had set up camp right in the center of the beach, on our enormous white beach blanket. Gelsey was talking to my dad, who was sprawled out on the blanket—he believed that beach chairs were for wimps and the elderly. Warren was next to him reading a book, aiming a flashlight at the text. They had all insisted on coming, even though I had tried to dissuade them. It was actually a little embarrassing to hear my mom going on about it, and it only served to highlight how few opportunities I’d given my parents to brag about me. We’d all been going to Gelsey’s dance recitals forever, and it seemed like we were always attending some mock trial competition or ceremony where Warren was winning yet another award for excellence. But aside from the mandatory stuff, like junior-high graduation, I’d never really had an event of my own.

I waved back, wondering how much it would cost to bribe Warren to do this for me. He had no problem speaking in front of people, and had given his valedictorian address without even breaking a sweat.

“Did it come with instructions?” Elliot asked, leaning over to examine the popper that Lucy was still looking at dubiously.

“Can you do this for me?” I asked him, now desperate. “Because I think I’m about to collapse.”

“No,” Lucy said quickly, shaking her head. “Fred doesn’t want him out there. In case, you know, people remember him from last summer and leave.”

Since Fred was on a fishing trip, I didn’t think he had to know about it, but I didn’t mention that. I wasn’t about to ask Lucy—I knew she would say no—so I just nodded and tried to swallow as I looked down at the note cards in my hands. I’d found out as much as I could about the movie online, but the neatly written, bullet-pointed list of facts no longer seemed very helpful.

Leland, our projectionist for the evening, ambled over. “So what’s the plan?” he asked. “We ready to do this?”

I looked at the snack bar clock in a panic. I thought I had more time to figure out what I was going to say, and also remember how to breathe. But it was almost eight thirty. I caught Lucy’s eye and she arched an eyebrow at me, her expression a challenge.

“Okay,” I said, and part of me was wondering why I was saying that, since I really felt like at any moment I might throw up.

“Sweet,” Leland said as he loped off to the makeshift projection booth at the other end of the beach.

“Good luck,” Elliot said. He came with me as I started my slow walk across the beach. “Don’t forget to tell people when the next one is. And that the concession stand will only be open for another half an hour. Oh, and that they should turn all cellular devices off.”

“Right,” I murmured, my head swimming, and my heart pounding so hard that I was sure the people in the front row would be able to hear it.

“Go for it,” Elliot prompted, giving me a small nudge when, a moment later, I still hadn’t moved.

“Right,” I repeated. I took a big breath and forced one foot in front of the other until I was standing in the center of the projection screen. “Hi,” I started. But not many people were looking at me. I would have thought this would be reassuring, but it wasn’t, because I knew it meant that I was going to have to keep talking, and more loudly. “Hi,” I repeated, louder this time, and I saw heads turn toward me, expectant. From the center of the crowd, I saw my brother switch off his flashlight. “Um, I’m Taylor. Edwards. And I work at the snack bar.” I looked down at the notes in my hands, which were shaking slightly, and I could feel panic start to rise, as I heard the silence stretch on. “Welcome to the movies. Under the stars,” I finally managed to say. I looked up and saw just a sea of eyes staring back at me, and my panic increased. I could feel beads of sweat start to form on my forehead. “It’s What About Bob, tonight. Which… Bill Murray,” I said, seeing some of my bullet points and grabbing onto them. “1991. Old school. Comedy. Classic.” I wanted nothing more than to flee, but for some horrible reason, I was also feeling like I was glued to the spot. From the direction of the snack bar, I could hear a faint pop-pop-pop and realized, somewhere in the part of my brain that was still functioning, that Lucy must have figured out the popcorn machine.