How to Meet Boys (19 page)

“I don’t know. Isn’t that sort of childish?” Lucy asked.

Why did I feel like she’d find a reason to dislike every suggestion I made? “People don’t stop liking games just because they’re not little kids anymore.”

“I know, but we don’t need activities,” Lucy said.

“We need some reason for people to hang around, having a good time,” I said. She was usually the queen of playing games. We’d spent hours playing video games—even Scrabble, Yahtzee, cards. Not to mention sports like Wiffle ball and kickball.

“All right, all right already,” Ava said. “Could you guys agree on just one thing tonight? Maybe? I was thinking we could have it on Saturday night, the thirteenth. Does that work for you guys?”

“Yeah.” Lucy nodded. “That should work.”

“Oh . . . really?” I asked. “So soon? That’s great!”

“Cool! Hey, you guys agreed! It’s a Christmas miracle,” Ava joked. We both stared at her. “Okay, it’s a Fourth of July miracle. So can we start inviting people—like, tonight?” asked Ava excitedly. “There’s this singer-guitarist who plays at the café . . . plus all my coworkers . . . well, almost all. What about you, who are you guys going to invite first?” she asked.

“Claire,” Lucy said.

“Jackson,” I said.

Bzzzt.
That was the exact wrong answer to give, and I realized it as soon as it came out of my mouth. “And a bunch of friends from the Beach Club. Tons, actually,” I added quickly.

“Hey, so . . . now that we have that settled, the carnival’s opening tonight!” Ava said. “You guys want to go check it out?”

“I would love to,” I said.

“No, thanks,” Lucy said. “You guys go ahead.”

“Well . . . what would
you
like to do?” I asked her. “We could go to the movies, we could go back to the mini golf place, take a drive—”

“No, thanks. I have other plans,” she said.

“With Gus? I knew it!” I said excitedly. “You know, just because we’re in a fight doesn’t mean that I can’t tell when you like someone.”

“No. Plans with my
mom
,” Lucy said, irritated. “We’re not all dating someone, okay?”

“Guys, please. You’re friends. Stop fighting, seriously.” Ava pushed back her chair and stood up. “If I wanted this much drama, I could have gone to dramatic performance camp for the summer.”

“Sorry,” Lucy said, without looking at me. “I’m still not feeling all that well. I apologize if I’m a little bit grumpy.”

“Sorry, Ava. And I didn’t mean to imply . . . anything, Luce,” I said. “Sorry you’re not feeling great.”

“Now. Was that so impossible?” Ava asked with a wave of her hand.

Impossible? No. But did it change anything?

I glanced nervously at Lucy. She looked at me and sort of smiled. It wasn’t the same wattage as a normal Lucy smile. She was only giving me a half smile.

I’d kept telling myself that we would get through this, that all she needed was a little time to get used to the idea of me and Jackson together. But time was passing every day. She didn’t seem to feel okay about it. I didn’t know what I should do—or even what I could do, if she kept me at arm’s length the way she had been.

UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

HarperCollins Publishers

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

On the big day of the Fourth of July
Apple Daze sidewalk sale celebration, my grandparents were manning the store while Jackson and I worked outside. We had a large cart with various snacks, sale items, gifts, souvenirs, collectible items, and a five-gallon container of apple cider. I hadn’t been able to help get things ready because I’d missed work the past two days.

Cars were stacked up along the street looking for parking places, and the sidewalks were crawling with people, even at ten in the morning. Down the street, I could see lots of activity at the kite store, the bakery, and the sandal shop. No one was headed our way just yet.

“I can’t believe you had to go to the emergency room Monday night. At least your mom’s in town to take care of you.”

“Yeah, I guess that’s the silver lining in the whole food poisoning n fiasco,” I said, silently cursing Chef Michael and his practically lethal appetizers. “A mom who usually hovers too much, but is great in a crisis when you actually need hovering. So what are we supposed to do with this cart?”

“Beats me,” Jackson said. “Stand here and wait for customers. Look healthy. An apple a day keeps the doctor away—stuff like that.”

“Let’s not talk about doctors,” I said, smiling ruefully. “How about you smile and hand out apple samples? I’ll push the souvenirs, because everyone needs an Apple Capital of America bumper sticker.”

“I apple,” Jackson said. “Do you?”

“Not much, no,” I said.

We started to get some foot traffic about fifteen minutes later. People would wander past, take a sample, check out the cart. We sold a few things, but I had a feeling the big rush wouldn’t start until after everyone had breakfast and/or coffee.

Jackson went into the store to get us more bags, and a minute later Gus walked up carrying a wicker basket—sort of like a picnic basket—filled with crackers, cookies, pretzels, chocolates, peaches, and grapes. He set it on the table in front of me. “A thousand apologies for the horrible time you had trying out our food. I can’t even—I mean, I can’t believe you didn’t even
tell
me, but your mom came by and chewed us out about your food poisoning. I feel terrible, so . . . if you’re up for eating, like, ever again, here you go.”

“Yeah, thanks.” I eyed the basket. “If it’s okay with you, I’m not sure I want to eat anything that comes from Blue Cove Catering.”

“Neither do I. And it’s not from there, it’s from the natural foods co-op.” He pulled a few grapes off the stems and dropped them into his smiling mouth. “See? Totally safe.”

“What’s so funny?” I asked. “I nearly died.”

“No, it’s not funny. I came by to tell you that I don’t actually work there anymore,” Gus said. “And I’m sorry you were so sick. Did you get all my messages?” I nodded. “Honestly, I had nothing to do with that. I am one hundred percent vigilant about food safety.”

“You don’t work there anymore?” I asked as I sorted through the basket.

“No. I quit last night. The guy is a bully.
And
, even worse, he almost killed you,” Gus said. “So, no, I didn’t want to keep working for him.”

I laughed too, despite the fact he’d lost his job and I’d been horribly ill. The whole situation seemed so ridiculous all of a sudden. “But what are you going to do now?” I asked him.

“I don’t know.” He looked around for a minute, nodded hello to my grandfather when he stepped outside to check out the crowds. “Should I see if he’s hiring?”

“I wish he was,” I said. “It’d be so awesome if you worked here.” I smiled at him and felt this crazy happy glow, which sounds more bizarre than it felt.

“I know, right?” Gus replied. “I could totally sell this.” He held up an apple-shaped potholder and said in a cheesy voice, “Not only does it keep your hands safe, it’s also good for baseball.”

“So what was the last straw?”

“A ridiculous tower of whipped cream and strawberries and blueberries on top of a ridiculous cake. I told him it wouldn’t work. I told him. The whole thing collapsed as I was bringing it into the party, like the air let out of a tire or something—so then he yelled at me in front of everyone.” He laughed. “Just thinking about all that whipped cream cascading onto the floor—it’s pretty funny, actually. Looked like melting snow.”

“What did you do?” I asked.

“I handed him the cake platter and walked out,” Gus said. “I need another job. Right now I’m choosing between cleaning hotel rooms, selling kayaks, and making balloon animals.”

“You know how to make balloon animals?” I asked, impressed.

“No. But I saw a girl outside the kite store doing it, and she was getting like a dollar a balloon, so . . ”

I laughed. “So you’re going to teach yourself how to make giraffes and dogs out of balloons?
That’s
your plan?”

Jackson returned carrying a stack of red paper bags. He and Gus said hello, and then Gus stepped to the side to make way for some customers filing up to the cart.

“I should probably get out of the way here,” he said.

“Or just start buying things,” I said. “You could be our most popular customer if you shell out some of your hard-earned cash.”

“Sure. If the good old chef actually paid me when he was supposed to,” Gus said. “I have a little bit saved for the carnival tonight. Are you guys planning to go? Seems like everyone’s going.”

I waited for Jackson to answer, but he was busy giving directions to someone..

“I’m pretty sure I will,” I said. “So, um, I’ll see you there?” I asked.

“Do you know what time?” he said.

“Oh, I don’t know. Eight? Nine?” I guessed.

“Right. Okay.” Gus nodded. “Sounds good. See you guys later.”

After he walked away, Jackson flicked my arm. It was funny; once he did it, I remembered that he always used to do that to me. “He was asking you out. If you care.”

“No, he wasn’t,” I said. “He asked both of us.”

“He could give a rip about me,” Jackson said.

“What’s a rip?”

Jackson flicked my elbow. “Don’t change the subject.”

Fortunately for me, a slew of customers wanted to pay for things just then, so I didn’t have to—they did it for me. But as I ran their credit cards through the store’s iPhone, I did have time to wonder whether Gus had been asking me to go with him, just us, as a date. I’d have said yes, if I’d known.

I thought about what Mikayla had said the night before: “Just because we’re in a fight doesn’t mean that I can’t tell when you like someone.”

She was right; I did like Gus. It would have been really nice if I could have talked to her about it, about my feelings, and about how I should act or what I should do next.

Why could I talk to Jackson now, and not to her? Everything felt like it was the opposite of what it should be.

Ava and I headed to the carnival together at about eight that night. She knew that I wasn’t a big fan of rides—not since the Minnesota State Fair incident when I threw up ten seconds after I got off the vertical plunge—so we headed to the games. Halfway there, Ava stopped outside a fortune-teller’s tent. “I have to go in there,” she said.

“No. You don’t have to,” I said. “Save your money.”

“Come on—we’ll get a good rate if we both go in,” Ava said. “You can find out about your love life and I’ll find out whether anyone at home knows I’m here yet.”

“Is that really the question you’d ask?”

“Well, it’s one of them. The rest would be more interesting,” Ava said. “Come on, come with me.”

“How about I wait for you out here?” I said. “I get kind of creeped out because sometimes they say things that are sort of true. I don’t feel like visiting the dark side right now.”

“You’re no fun. How will you know what fate has in store for you?”

“Um . . .
you’ll
tell me?” I said.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Ava grabbed my arm, and with her other hand swept aside the tent door.

Inside, a woman with long black hair streaked with gray was sitting at a small table. She wore a purple-and-gold scarf that was slightly like the colors of the new Minnesota Vikings uniforms.
Jolene, the Viking Psychic
, it said in swoopy handwriting on a sign on the table. “How may I help you girls?” she asked.

“You go first,” said Ava, gesturing toward the chair at the table. “Here.” She handed the psychic the required five dollars, and I sat down opposite her, feeling nervous.

“Your name?” she asked.

“Lucy,” she said.

“Ah. Lucy. I am Jolene. Give me your hand.”

I held out my hand and glanced over at Ava beside me with a worried look. I wasn’t sure I wanted this Jolene person to hold my hand. She examined my right hand closely, then turned it over and studied my palm. “You are a hard worker,” she said. “You don’t give up easily.” She looked up and focused on my face. Her gaze was so intense, I wanted to look away. Even for what seemed like a kind of ridiculous carnival act, there was something about her that truly did seem . . . clairvoyant. Or something. “What questions do you have for me?” she asked.

“Uh, well, I was wondering about . . . uh . . ” What did I want to know most? About my future, my family, my love life?

“Yes, there is a boy,” she said, without even waiting for me to say it. She closed her eyes. “There are two boys. One will come to your rescue soon. Very soon. He will surprise you. The other one will . . ” She stopped and suddenly opened her eyes. “You do not want to know.”

“What does that mean?” I asked. “Is it bad?”

“It must remain a mystery,” she said. “Now, about your family . . ”

“That’s okay,” I said, getting to my feet. “I think I’m freaked out enough.”

“Lucy, stay,” Ava urged. “Don’t you see? She’s using a bunch of vague predictions,” she whispered. “They don’t mean anything. There aren’t any details!”

“Then why did you want to come?” I asked.

“Because it’s fun. I love the dark arts,” she said.

“This isn’t Harry Potter. This is the Viking Psychic,” I said.

“Exactly. So don’t worry about anything she said.” Ava shrugged.

“Are you sure you are done? I can tell you about your future,” Jolene said. “I have seen things, many things. . . . Do you wish to know where you will move next?”

“M-move?” I asked, edging toward the doorway.

“She means college,” Ava said. “Don’t you?”

Jolene made a bunch of swirling motions with her hands. “I see a building. Ivy climbs up a brick wall . . ”

“You’re going Ivy League, baby!” Ava whispered, squeezing my shoulder.

“No, I’m
going
to wait for you outside.” I swept aside the curtain and walked out to the carnival midway. Psychic or not, Jolene was one strange woman—or bad actress. I couldn’t believe Ava wanted to hear what she had to say, but then, Ava has more of an adventurous streak than I do. I could almost imagine her grilling Jolene for specific details; she definitely wouldn’t shy away from any predictions, the way I did.