Fifteenth Summer

Melissa scheduled me for the two-to-eight p.m. shift the next day, and put me down in the schedule for four afternoon shifts a week.

“We’re more of a breakfast and lunch place,” she told me, “so you can slow down and learn the ropes a bit.”

I got to town at one fifteen the next day. But not because I wanted to get to work early.

I was going to Dog Ear.

At the corner of Main and Althorp, I paused—and hyperventilated a bit. Clutching my stomach, I ducked onto Althorp, which was really more of an alley than a street—skinny, one-way, and mostly stocked with service entrances to the stores on Main.

I smoothed down my poofy A-line skirt, adjusted the straps of my blue camisole, and tried to calm down.

What’s the big deal? I asked myself. I’m just stopping in. I’ll talk to Josh, pick out some books, and be on my way.

What’s more, I’d done a mirror check right before I’d left the cottage, so I knew there was nothing on my face.

I gave my head a little shake, smoothed down the puff of frizz that the head shake had unleashed, and walked purposefully around the corner.

When I went into Dog Ear, Stella was behind the counter.

“Hi there!” she said, fluttering her fingers at me. “C’mon in. It’s Nutter Butters today.”

I grinned at her. The prospect of dribbling peanut buttery crumbs into a book that I had just bought made me giddy. I decided to look for a book first, and Josh second.

I was headed to the YA section when I got distracted by a chirpy voice coming out of the kids’ area. I peeked over the white picket fence at a mom-ish-looking woman perched on a tiny chair. She was reading to a small crowd of toddlers who alternated between listening raptly and pointing at the pictures to shout out things like, “It’s a duck!”

“Cute,” I whispered to myself.

I was just heading back to the YA section, when I froze.

Between the kids’ play area and the YA aisle, there was an aisle filled with picture books. Sitting on the floor of that aisle, shelving a stack of them, was Josh.

He was looking right at me.

“Hi,” I stage-whispered. I didn’t want to disturb the story hour.

He waved and smiled.

Which made me feel both flustered and floaty. Suddenly the thought of delaying talking to Josh in favor of shopping for books seemed really ridiculous.

After walking down the aisle, I lowered myself to the floor, trying to simultaneously be graceful and not give Josh a glimpse of my underwear. He was holding a copy of Where the Wild Things Are but seemed to have forgotten all about it. Instead he just stared at me.

Then we did that thing where he smiled and I smiled back and he smiled harder and so did I, and boy was I glad nobody else could see us right then. It comforted me to know that we were equally dorky.

“Listen,” I said when I finally remembered that I’d actually come here to tell him something. “I was going to buy a book and then thank you. But now I’m thanking you first.”

Josh smiled bigger. “You’re not broke anymore?”

“No!” I said. “Look at this!”

I opened my purse and pulled out a rolled-up wad of money. It was fifty-two dollars in one-dollar bills—my final tip count from the previous day.

“That’s, like, five paperbacks right there,” I said.

“So, I guess you got the job?” Josh asked.

“Oh, yeah, I forgot to mention that,” I said. “They started me right away. And I’m going back today for the dinner shift! So, uh, that’s why I wanted to thank you—for telling me about it and giving me those pointers.”

He didn’t have to know how badly I’d mangled the whole calico cat/Cubs part of my interview.

“You’re welcome,” Josh said.

There was a moment of smiley silence, except for the voice of the reader starting a new book: “ ‘One Sunday morning the warm sun came up and—pop!—out of the egg came a tiny and very hungry caterpillar.’ ”

“So,” I said, because we couldn’t just sit there grinning at each other for minutes on end (could we?). “I guess we’ll be working next door to each other.”

That’s when Josh’s smile faded and his face seemed to go a little pale.

And that look in his eyes—was that panic?

I felt like I’d been slapped in the face. Suddenly Josh and I were right back to the first day we’d met, when he’d started out sweet and flirty, then turned on me. Now he was doing it again. He’d told me about the Mel & Mel’s job, and yet here he was, freaking out because I’d taken the Mel & Mel’s job! Was he realizing he doesn’t like me after all? Again?

“I’ve gotta go,” I blurted.

Even though I have half an hour until my shift starts. Which I’m now going to have to kill somewhere else. What am I supposed to do, go buy fifty-two dollars’ worth of fudge?

“You’re leaving?” Josh said. His voice cracked a little as he said it, and he cringed.

“Yes, I’m leaving,” I said frostily.

But my outfit seemed to have another idea. As I tried to get up, I realized I’d sat down on the hem of my skirt. I was pinned down!

I took a deep, long-suffering breath and started yanking my skirt out from under me. Never had my vintage habit so betrayed me! I was totally going to switch to miniskirts after this.

“ ‘On Wednesday,’ ” the mom read, “ ‘he ate through three plums, but he was still hungry.’ ”

“Yah!” I grunted, finally freeing myself. I smoothed the poofy skirt down, then planted my hands on the floor to push myself to my feet.

But before I got very far, Josh planted his hands on me! On my shoulders anyway. I fell back to the floor.

“Oof!” I grunted, giving him a WHAT are you doing? glare.

From the stunned look on his face, it seemed Josh was asking himself the same question.

But then his fingers tightened on my shoulders and he answered the question for both of us by leaning in—and kissing me!

It was just one kiss. By the clock it probably only lasted a few seconds. But in my head (not to mention the rest of me) that kiss—Josh kissing me—seemed to go on and on. I felt a tingly jolt in my lips. Josh’s palms felt incredibly warm on my shoulders, and my arms and legs went rubbery.

No, that wasn’t the right word for it. I felt melty.

I couldn’t believe it.

Whenever I read a romantic book (and I’d read a lot of them), I’d get to the part where she “melted beneath his touch” or “melted into his arms” and roll my eyes.

That’s just a goofy thing writers write, I’d told myself. Nobody really melts when a boy kisses her.

Now I knew. The melting really did happen—if you kissed the right boy. For the first time in my life, I seemed to be doing just that.

And I was doing it with a chirpy mom reading The Very Hungry Caterpillar literally six feet away. Not to mention all those little kids. This was . . . weird!

Also wonderful.

And very, very surprising.

That’s surely what Josh saw in my face when we finally pulled away from each other. That and a whole lot of hot-and-bothered hair frizz.

“Um . . . ,” I said.

“Um . . . ,” he said.

“So I gotta . . . ,” I said, pointing in the general direction of the door. Kissing Josh seemed to have rendered me half-mute.

Josh only nodded. I guess he was fully mute.

As I drifted to my feet, I couldn’t help but wonder if that was a good or bad thing. Maybe another girl (my sister, Abbie, for instance) would have come out and asked him if it was a good or bad thing. But I didn’t. I couldn’t.

For one thing, there was the half-muteness.

For another, I couldn’t look Josh in the eyes. Not after his lips had just been on my lips and he’d just seen my face more close-up than I’d seen it myself. It was so embarrassing!

Also amazing.

I turned and headed out of the picture book aisle, trying not to wobble as I walked. I forgot about book shopping entirely and reported to work twenty minutes early. This earned me completely unintentional brownie points, as well as the privilege of chopping up some celery for Melanie while I waited for my shift to begin.

Once it did, it took a while for my tables to fill up, which was a good thing. I was ridiculously distracted from a job I hadn’t even begun to master yet.

Okay, the first question, I thought as I laid napkins and flatware on my tables, is why! Why did Josh kiss me? Does he really like me? Or maybe kissing me was an accident, somehow. I mean, it doesn’t get less sexy than The Very Hungry Caterpillar.

And besides, I know he regretted telling me to go for the job next door. I could see it in his eyes. So why—Oop! Party of six in my section.

I hurried over to scoop up menus as three middle-aged couples settled themselves into my section’s biggest table. I handed the menus out, then managed to get their drink orders correct—even if I did hand the wrong drinks to each customer, down to the very last person.

“I’m sorry!” I said as they laughed and passed their drinks around the table until each one found the person who’d ordered it. “It’s only my second day.”

“In that case,” said one of the customers, a jolly-looking guy with thinning hair and a big grin, just the kind of guy my dad would love to regale with one-liners, “I’ll have a chef salad with ham instead of turkey. And egg whites only, no yolks. Dressing on the side. And I’d like extra dressing.”

“Okaaaay,” I said, sticking my tongue in the corner of my mouth as I furiously scribbled the complicated order.

“Now the extra dressing,” the man instructed, “I want on the salad. Oh, and I’d like ham instead of turkey.”

“Wait a minute,” I said, “didn’t you just say turkey instead of ham?”

And doesn’t a chef salad have both turkey and ham? I wondered frantically.

“Sweetie,” said the woman across the table from the man, “he’s messing with you! He does this every time we go to a restaurant.”

Then she scowled at her husband.

“John!” she scolded. “You’re scaring the girl to death.”

“All right, then,” the man said, grinning at me. “I’ll have a burger. With everything.”

I squinted at him. “Really?” I said skeptically.

“Really, sweetie,” his wife said. “John! Stop!”

He chuckled and crossed his arms over his big belly as if to say, My work here is done.

Old people amused themselves in really weird ways.

Then again, young people could be kind of weird too. For instance, some of them planted out-of-the-blue kisses on unsuspecting girls during completely inappropriate children’s story hours.

I swooped back to the kiss—to the unexpected yet wonderful kiss and the imprint of Josh’s hands on my shoulders that I swore I could still feel—and completely missed the next two orders.

“I’m sorry,” I said as John’s wife said something about an extra plate. “Can you repeat that?”

I saw the customers exchange a look and shift in their seats.

It’s going to be a long afternoon, they telegraphed to each other.

You don’t know the half of it, people, I thought.





By the end of my shift, I was beyond exhausted. If Melissa thought two-to-eight was the easy shift, then she was a superhero. My feet ached and my arms were sore from lugging heavy trays. I had a greasy spot on my camisole from a salad dressing spill. I was starving, but I also had no desire to even look at food.

I was also just as bewildered by the Kiss as I’d been six hours earlier. In my few minutes of free time that afternoon, I’d sent Emma three urgent NEED ADVICE texts, but her phone must have been turned off. Her mean teachers at the Intensive apparently loved to snap cell phones in half if they dared to ring during class. The ballet world was so weird.

Of course, everything was seeming weird to me at that moment—customers who left tips entirely in nickels, Melanie making a gross blue and red cake in honor of the Cubs . . . Weirdest of all, of course, was Josh acting all phobic one moment, then planting the best kiss of my life on me the next.

I went to the little office off the kitchen to take off my apron and get ready to leave. I considered calling a couple other friends from back home to get their take on the Kiss, but I was too tired to explain all the backstory to them. Then I thought about talking to Hannah. With her I could speak in sisters’ shorthand. Then she’d probably do that thing where she reads between the lines of what I tell her and informs me of what I’m really saying. Usually I find that excruciatingly annoying, but in this case I actually kind of craved it.

You’ve got two sisters who’ve just been through all this, Hannah and Abbie had told me before the lantern party.

I hated when they were right, but they were right. I decided to talk to Hannah right after I got home.

As I walked through the dining room, waving good-bye to Melissa, I pulled the rubber band out of my messy ponytail and held it between my front teeth. I pushed through the front door backward as I used both hands to smooth my hair back so I could make a new, neater pony.

But as soon as the door swooshed closed behind me, I heard the jingle of Dog Ear’s door opening and closing as well.

I glanced up. The elastic band fell out of my mouth and my hands dropped to my sides, causing my hair to poof frizzily around my face.

Josh was standing in front of the bookstore.

He looked kind of like he wanted to dive right back inside.

For once I knew we had something in common, because I kind of wanted to do the same thing.

But I also couldn’t stop staring at him. At his smooth face, his super-short hair, and his cute orange-and-green sneakers.

“Hi,” I said. My voice sounded hesitant and a little raspy after talking over the clatter of dishes all day.

“Hi,” Josh said, sounding just as nervous as I felt. Feeling clumsy, I grabbed my hair elastic off the sidewalk. Then Josh pointed behind him. “Are you walking this way?”

I nodded and started down Main. Josh fell into step beside me, and it felt . . . wonderful. He was so close that our arms almost touched, so close that I could feel the warmth radiating off his body.

I guess that was what made me turn off Main and head down Althorp. Suddenly, instead of wanting to get home as soon as possible to shower, eat a mayo-free dinner, and puzzle out this Josh business with my sister, I wanted this walk—with Josh—to last as long as possible.

When we were a few feet from the end of the block, Josh stopped, turned, and looked down at me. He really was tall. His face looked sweetly sheepish and a little aggravated.

“Listen,” he said. “I know you must think I’m crazy. I mean, I haven’t exactly been, um, consistent. With you.”

I raised my eyebrows.

“I guess it’s safe to say,” Josh went on, “I’ve been a little, how do I say this . . . taken aback.”

“Taken aback?” I asked. This did not sound like a positive thing.

“See?” Josh said, wringing his hands. “I never say the right thing to you. It’s like I don’t have control over my mouth.”

See? I thought. He all but said it—he did kiss me by accident!

I bit my lip, bracing myself for heartbreak.

“Chelsea,” Josh said, “here’s the thing. You tried to rescue those books from me. And you think Coconut Dreams is as fabulously horrible as I do. And you wear those vintage clothes, and you have that hair—”

“I hate my hair,” I said, my hand instinctively springing to my head to smooth it down.

“See?” Josh repeated. “I did it again.”

He looked down at the ground, suddenly even shyer.

“And then I went and . . . you know,” he said. “Earlier.”

“Yeah, earlier,” I whispered.

“So anyway, about that,” Josh said. “I’m sor—”

Josh didn’t get to finish what he was saying.

Because I grabbed him by the shoulders and sprang to my tiptoes—and kissed him!

Josh stumbled backward. I started to pull away from the kiss, but he plunged his hand into my messy mane of hair and pulled me closer.

And now I wasn’t kissing him and he wasn’t kissing me.

We were kissing each other.

My eyes fluttered closed. I let my right hand trail down Josh’s arm—which was thin but muscular and so smooth and warm—until my hand found his. Our fingers intertwined.

Josh tilted until his shoulder blades touched the brick wall behind him. I tilted along with him.

And now “melty” took on a different meaning. All the confusion and hurt I’d been feeling? All those mixed signals Josh had given me? They all melted away—canceled out by one perfect kiss after another.