Despite pageant supplies swallowing my house, the next few weeks are pretty okay. I work mostly with Ron, but sometimes Lydia. Mondays and Wednesdays are always pie, but it’s Fridays and Saturdays that can be killer. Mom hates that we’re open until midnight, but there’s not much I can do about that.
One Friday night as we’re shutting down, Ron walks into the dining room carrying plastic-wrapped towers of cups. “Got new cups,” he says and drops them all on the counter.
“What’s wrong with the ones we have now?” I ask.
He tears the plastic from one of the towers and hands me a red cup. Our logo is there, but beneath that in italicized letters it says: Official Sponsor of Clover City’s Miss Teen Blue Bonnet Pageant. Sometimes I think the pageant is like Christmas, and we just keep trying to celebrate it earlier and earlier until it turns into a year-round event.
“One of those girls on your mom’s committee came by, and well, my mama won back in ’77. I couldn’t pass up an opportunity to support the crown jewel of Clover City.”
I feel myself frowning. “So we’re just going to chuck all the perfectly fine cups we already have in favor of these?”
He shrugs. “Restock the dispensers before we head out, would ya?”
I always forget how horrible the second half of the year leading up to the pageant is. The thing crowds in around my life, leaving barely enough room for air.
After we’re done closing up, Marcus and Ron are in their cars and reversing out of their parking spots before Bo and I are even to our cars.
As I’m unlocking my door—I don’t have one of those fancy clicker things—Bo says, “There’s a meteor shower tonight. It’s a small one.”
I throw my bag onto the passenger seat. “How do you know?”
“My stepmom. She’s big into stars and astrology.”
I know very little about astrology except that my mom’s church calls it witchcraft. Without deciding to, I close my car door. “I’ve never seen a meteor shower.”
He nods toward the bed of his truck as the parking lot lights flicker off. “Let’s wait for it.”
I suck in a breath. This is what it feels like when your life starts happening, I think.
“You got anything for us to sit on back there?”
He turns on his radio and grabs a Holy Cross letter jacket from the cab of his truck. “Use this.”
Bo makes a show of closing his eyes as I hoist myself onto his truck. I’m hoping his eyes are actually closed because the word hoisting and my polyester work dress do not belong in the same sentence. He offers me his hand, and I’m not ashamed to admit that I pretend to need it.
I’m surprised to know that his fingers are calloused with wear. I like how they contrast against my own skin. Once I’m settled, it’s hard to let go.
He winces a little as he pulls himself up.
“Are you okay?”
“Bum knee.” He sits next to me, holding his leg straight as he does.
“What’s wrong with it? Is it an injury or has it always been like that?”
“A little of both.”
“But you’re okay?”
He coughs into his fist. “Yeah.”
The last lights on the street flicker off. We might live inside the city limits, but every night when this town shuts down, it’s hard to forget how secluded we are. We’re not off a highway or any major route, so it’s the type of place that can only be found by those who want to find it.
Bo glances at the clock on his cell phone. “Should be dark enough to see them.”
I can easily make out the shape of constellations. “You said your stepmom’s into astrology?”
He rubs his knuckles across his chin. “Yeah.”
“Your parents are divorced?”
He shakes his head, but says nothing.
“I—I’m sorry for asking. I have the manners of a cat in a box of bubble wrap. Like, it’s a problem.”