The Gossip File (3 page)

When I finish unpacking, I venture out of my room to find Ellie sitting on the couch reading some kind of medical textbook. It's not exactly the type of light reading I'd picture her doing. In fact, most of her shelves are full of books on nursing and medicine. It's strange to think Ellie had a totally different life before she started working at the resort.

“Are you hungry?” she asks.

“I guess so.” The truth is, my stomach is in knots from everything that's happened today. I'm not sure I could get it to unclamp for anything, not even a slice of chocolate peanut butter pie.

“Great, let's go meet your dad.” She gets to her feet and grabs her purse. “Caleb, we're going!”

A minute later, his door creaks open. “Do I have to?” he asks.

“Families that eat together stay together,” she says. Wow, Ellie really likes all those cheesy family sayings. Weirdly, it sounds like she believes they're true.

Caleb lets out a long sigh, tucks his iPad under his arm, and comes to join us.

The instant we leave Ellie's apartment and start walking over to the resort, I'm sweating like crazy. How does no one else notice that it's a bajillion degrees here? If I don't get used to it soon, I might have to start keeping ice packs in my pockets.

My dad is waiting for us outside one of the dozen restaurants in the resort. He gives Ellie a kiss on the cheek as if he didn't just see her an hour ago and then we head inside.

I'm excited to catch up with my dad over dinner, but Ellie keeps chattering the whole time. Dad smiles as he nods along, but he never laughs. I don't get it. Does he actually like Ellie, or is he just humoring her?

Finally, when Ellie gets up to use the bathroom, I see my chance to talk to my dad. But when I open my mouth to say something, only air comes out. What is going on? My dad and I always have tons to talk about. I guess so much has happened since he left home that I don't even know where to start.

“Hey, Dad, I have joke for you,” I finally say. If there's one thing he and I have in common, it's our sense of humor. “Why can't a bicycle stand on its own?”

He blinks at me for a second. “Why?”

“Because it's two tired!” I say, erupting into giggles.

Caleb lets out a “wah-wah” sound like a trombone, but I expect Dad to laugh. Instead, he looks distracted, like he barely even heard what I said. My laughter fades as I focus on buttering my roll.

“So, Rachel,” Dad says after a long silence, “are you excited about starting high school?” It's the kind of question a stranger would ask.

I shrug. “Marisol is. She keeps talking about wanting to start a fashion club. I'm hoping they'll have a baking club or something.”

“Will you girls be in the same classes?” he asks.

“We won't know until orientation in a couple of weeks.”

Dad sighs. “I'm sorry I won't be there.”

I realize, suddenly, that for the first time ever, Dad will miss my first day of school. Normally, he puts a funny limerick or a puzzle in my lunch. But this year…nothing. Is that why he's acting so weird? Because he's realizing how much stuff he's missed since he's been gone?

Before I can figure out a way to ask him, Ellie scampers back from the bathroom. As she spreads her napkin on her lap, she turns to me and says, “Rachel, I wanted to talk to you.”

I put down my roll. Oh no. Is she going to announce something even bigger than the getting married thing? I don't even know what that would be. That she and my dad are going to be on the first manned mission to Mars?

“I have a bit of a problem on my hands,” she continues. “An employee at the café here was let go this week, and I've been desperately trying to find a replacement. Another girl, Ava, was supposed to start working tomorrow, but she changed her mind at the last minute. That means the café is sorely understaffed. So I was thinking that you might be able to help out in the café until I find a replacement.”

I stare at her. At least she's not talking about marriage or interplanetary travel, but I have no idea how to react to this news, either.

“I know it's not exactly the vacation you had in mind,” Dad jumps in, flashing me an apologetic smile. “But it would probably only be for a couple of days. After that, you'll be free to enjoy yourself however you want. And I should be able to get a few days off to spend with you.”

“But what about the fun stuff we had planned?” A huge part of the reason I came down here was so that Dad and I could finally do our dream trip together. And now I'm supposed to spend part of it working?

“We'll still do lots of things together,” Dad says. “I promise. But remember that I'll be at work too.”

I play with my napkin for a minute. It's definitely not the way I saw my trip going. “Can't you find someone else?” I ask Ellie.

The hope on her face evaporates. “I suppose I'll have to.” She sighs. “Oh well. It was worth a try!”

She goes back to studying her menu like the discussion is over, but when I glance over at Dad, I see how disappointed he is. Suddenly, I feel terrible. The last thing I want during this vacation is to let him down.

“Wait,” I say softly. “Are you sure it'll only be a couple of days? Because if it is, then…I guess I'll do it.”

Dad's whole face breaks out into a smile. “That's my girl!”

“This means so much to me,” Ellie says, beaming. “The tips at the café are great, so you'll have some extra spending money right away.”

I do like the sound of that, but I can't help returning their big smiles with one that feels painfully fake. When I glance at Caleb, he has a smug look on his face like he thinks I've just gotten suckered into something. Maybe he's right. All I know is that, so far, nothing about this trip has gone the way I planned.

Ellie knocks on my door ridiculously early the next morning, waking me from nightmares about sinkholes opening up under my bed.

“Rise and shine, sleepy bear!” she says. “Since it's your first day, I want to introduce you to everyone at the café.”

I try not to let out a bearlike growl as I stumble into the shower. I was up late last night talking to Marisol, telling her about all the disastrous stuff that happened yesterday, from the almost-kiss to the almost-stepmom to the almost-job. Marisol clucked at all the right places and reminded me that I only have to survive here for two weeks. Right now it feels more like two million.

While I shampoo my hair, my stomach starts fluttering like crazy. I've never been great at talking to strangers, and today I not only have to work with people I don't know, but I have to help customers. Why did I ever agree to do this? I'm good with food, not with people!

When I'm finally dressed and ready to go, I follow Ellie out the door. “I can't thank you enough for helping me out, Rachel,” she says as she leads me toward the resort. “I think you'll like the other girls. They're about your age.”

I almost laugh. Clearly, Ellie doesn't know much about me if she thinks I'm going to have an easy time making friends.

“Over there is the spa,” Ellie says, pointing at one of the buildings. “Whenever I'm looking a little haggard, I stop in there. Let me know if you'd like me to make you an appointment sometime.”

“Oh…thanks,” I say, wondering if that means I'm looking “haggard.” I'm sure I at least look like a rat drowning in its own sweat. How can it be so hot already when it's barely past dawn?

As we weave through the resort, Ellie waves and says hello to everyone we pass, like she's on a parade float. She also knows the names of every employee we see, and she asks them about their spouses or kids or pets. No wonder the resort put her in charge of hiring.

“There's Mark,” Ellie says as an older man in a gray suit comes out of the main building. “He's the resort manager and my boss.” She drags me over so we can say hello.

“It's nice to meet you,” Mark says, giving me a firm handshake. “Your father's been a great asset here the past few weeks. I'm sure we'll enjoy having you work for us too.”

“Thanks. You too,” I blurt out. Ugh. Why can't I say something normal to a stranger for once in my life?

Luckily, Mark doesn't seem to notice my total awkwardness. Instead, he smiles at me and then turns to Ellie and says, “I have to be off. Someone reported one of the guests practicing fire breathing near the tennis courts. This Renaissance festival was a great idea, Ellie, but I have to admit that I'll be glad when it's over.” He chuckles and hurries away.

“Isn't Mark the best?” Ellie says. “If it weren't for him, I don't think I'd still be working here. Any other place would have gotten fed up with me changing jobs all the time, but Mark's been great about giving me a second chance. And a third, and a fourth!”

A minute later, we round a corner and come to a café right across from a hair salon. “Four Palms Café” the sign says in black-and-pink letters. When we go inside, I'm smacked in the face by the smell of stale coffee and greasy pastries. The place is empty except for a couple of middle-aged men in business suits sipping iced lattes in the corner.

Behind the counter, two girls in black aprons with pink frills are bustling around prepping for the day. Ellie introduces the blond older girl as Carrie, the manager of the café, and the tall girl with the perfect tan as Taylor. Then she tells them that I'll be helping out for the next few days until she can hire someone long-term.

The girls barely glance up while Ellie's talking. Even though the place is empty, it seems like they're expecting a mad rush at any second.

“Now, girls,” says Ellie, her voice even higher and bubblier than normal. “Remember what we talked about. After the, er, incident, it was natural for things to lag a bit, but we can't let that get us down. There has to be a way to get this place swinging again!”

“Yes, ma'am,” Carrie says in a way that makes me wonder if she's being sarcastic.

Ellie turns back to me. “If you have any problems, I'm at extension three-five-three.” Then she's gone, and I'm left alone with two girls who seem not to care that I'm standing here.

Finally, Carrie comes around the counter, eyeing me up and down. “So you're Ava?” she says finally.

“Uh—”

“Thank goodness you're here,” Taylor calls over the counter.

“Yeah, ever since Melody got fired, it's been crazy,” Carrie says. “Anyway, follow me. I'll show you how to make the croissants.”

“I already know how to make croissants,” I say.

Carrie shakes her head. “They're really particular about how we do stuff here.”

I follow her to the ovens in the back. Luckily, the air-conditioning is cranking at full blast or I'd never survive. As Carrie chatters on about the pastries and sandwiches the café serves and Taylor rushes around filling coffee urns, I try to take everything in.

It looks like the café doesn't make anything from scratch. Their pastries are all the premade kind you just pop in the oven, and even their sandwich fillings come prepackaged. Gross.

“Mostly we'll be having you make the food, but sometimes you might need to jump on a register or help a customer.” Carrie turns to me. “You know how to do all that, don't you?”

I blink at her.

“So, Ava, do you have any questions?”

I know I should correct her, but I'm totally overwhelmed. At least the food part will be easy, but handling customers? And a cash register? And counting money? I've never done any of those things!

Before I can confess how totally clueless I am, Carrie laughs and says, “That's what I like to hear. Melody was always asking way too many questions. It drove me nuts. Okay, let's get ready before the breakfast crowd comes.” She shoves an apron in my hands and rushes off.

All I can do is follow.

After I shadow Carrie for a little while, I start to get the hang of things. I mostly have to put the pastries in the oven and take them out again when the timer goes off. Any robot with oven mitts could do this job.

I taste a cooling croissant and cringe. It's not awful, but there's a suspicious aftertaste to it, almost like black pepper.

“Disgusting, right?” Taylor says, seeing my face. “We're pretty sure all the stuff here is made at a spice factory. The resort must get it at a really good price.”

Carrie snorts. “Too bad no one actually wants to eat donuts that taste like”—she takes a bite—“basil.”

I'm tempted to ask why we can't make the pastries from scratch, but I don't want to rock the boat, not when I'm only going to be here for a couple of days.

At around 8 a.m., the breakfast rush starts. Some of the people who bustle into the café are clearly tourists who are staying at the hotel (based on their golf clothes and flip-flops), but most of the customers are resort employees who are there for their morning iced-coffee fix. Pretty soon I'm so busy that I don't even have time to stress about being surrounded by complete strangers. I'm relieved not to have to touch the cash registers, though. Knowing me, I'd probably accidentally start handing out Monopoly money.

Once the last customer leaves, I'm surprised that most of our pastries are untouched.

“Yeah, we mostly just sell coffee,” Carrie says when I ask her about it. “I keep telling Mark that if we had food people actually wanted to eat, we wouldn't be losing so much money, but he thinks I'm just complaining.”

“So I have to make all these gross pastries every day even though we know people won't buy them?” I ask.

“Yup,” she says. “The lunch rush is a little better but still not great. You'd think the fact that the café is on the verge of having to shut down would make them change the way they do things here, but they're so set in their ways that they don't want to admit anything is wrong.”

If the café has been serving these weirdly spicy pastries for a while, I'm amazed they're still open at all.

“So, Ava,” Taylor says, turning to me. “Someone said you just moved here from Texas and that you're into riding horses.” She positions herself with one hand on the counter and does some balletlike moves. I'm surprised by how graceful she is.

“Oh, um, no. I'm from Massachusetts.”

“Ha!” says Carrie. “See, Taylor? I told you my brother was making things up to mess with you. And you always believe him.”

“No, I don't!” Taylor says. I can tell by the way she's blushing that she has a crush on Carrie's brother, whether she's willing to admit it or not. She turns back to me. “At least tell me the horseback riding part is true!”

I blink. She looks like she really wants it to be true, but I can't flat-out lie. “I do like horses,” I say slowly. “But—”

“See?” Taylor flashes Carrie a triumphant grin before I can admit that I'd be too terrified to ever even touch a horse. “Kai was telling the truth about something.”

“Maybe this time,” Carrie says, “but he's always trying to push people's buttons.” She glances at me and explains, “Taylor moved here at the start of the summer so she hasn't realized that my brother is a total freak yet.”

Taylor sighs. “My dad's been having a hard time finding a job, so we've been moving around a lot. We were in Miami at my aunt's place for a while, but now we're here.” She does a little twirl that makes her look like a dancing doll.

“Taylor does ballet,” Carrie says. “Isn't she good?'

I groan inwardly. How am I supposed to tell them the truth when Carrie and Taylor keep switching topics so fast that I can barely keep up?

Taylor stops midspin. “Used to do ballet,” she says. “We can't really afford it anymore.” She goes off to restock the napkin dispensers, her shoulders stooped.

“So, um, about the horseback riding…” I start to say.

Carrie waves her hand. “I'm not the person to talk to about that. I hate anything with fur. Except for my brother.” She lets out a snort-laugh, which I'm starting to suspect is her trademark. “You'll probably see Kai later. He works at the smoothie stand by the pool.” She glances at Taylor who still has a far-off look on her face.

I sigh. Forget it. I'm only working here a couple of days. Who cares if these girls think I'm someone else? Besides, how often do I get a chance to hang out with older kids and actually fit in?

“Is Taylor okay?” I say instead.

Carrie shrugs. “It was stupid of me to bring up ballet. Now that her dad can't afford to pay for classes, she gets really bummed talking about it,” she says. Then her face brightens and she calls out, “Okay, guys, it's game time.”

“What does that mean?” I ask.

“When it's dead in here, we take turns making up games. Yesterday we played Catch the Danish, so we need something new today.”

“Hmmm.” Taylor comes over to the counter, rubbing her chin like she's stroking an invisible beard. Her mood is a million times lighter than it was a minute ago. “It's my turn today, so how about, in honor of Ava…” She picks up a wooden spoon and a donut. “Horseshoes?”

“I think you mean Horse Donuts,” Carrie says, laughing. She grabs the spoon and goes to set it up in the middle of the floor.

“Do you own any horses?” Taylor asks me as she picks out some of the stalest donuts to toss.

“Oh, um. Yeah. Two of them,” I blurt out.

Taylor lets out an impressed whistle. “You guys must have a lot of money. Horses are expensive.”

They are? The closest I've ever been to a horse is on a carousel. “Oh no, we don't. We, um, adopted them. From an animal shelter. They were free. We adopted a couple of cats there too. They all live in the barn. Next to the duck pond.”

Whoa. Now I have two horses, some cats, and enough ducks to warrant an entire pond?

Luckily, before I add that I also own a snow leopard, Carrie announces that I have to go first in Horse Donuts.

“I don't think so,” I say. Hand-eye coordination has never been my thing.

“Come on!” says Carrie. “Have a little fun. Otherwise this job will bore you to death. Trust me, this is my third summer working here. Even before the sinkhole killed our business, it was still really boring most of the time.”

Wow, that means Carrie must be at least seventeen. I don't think I've ever had an actual conversation with an upperclassman before.

“Okay,” I say. After all, I'm hanging out with older girls and managing to blend in. I don't want them thinking I'm a wuss.

I stand by the counter, take a deep breath, and toss the first donut. It sails right past the spoon and bounces off one of the tables.

Carrie and Taylor burst out laughing. I get into throwing stance again, wiggling my butt like I've seen Red Sox players do, which only makes the other girls laugh harder. I can't help grinning. Usually, Marisol is the only one who gets my goofiness. Well, and my dad, but he and I haven't been all that in tune recently.

I grab a powdered donut, wind up my arm, and let it go. It wobbles as it flies through the air before it hits one of the café windows, leaving a white imprint on the glass.

“Look, Ava, it's snowing!” Carrie says.

We're all giggling as I wind up again, but before I can throw my final donut, the door to the café swings open and Caleb shuffles in.