His name was Cory.
All the girls our age liked him except for me. Maddy and Samantha laughed at everything he said, even though nothing he said was funny.
“I need the money to get shocks for my bike,” Cory told everyone when he first started. “This is the only place in town that will hire kids our age.”
It was like he had to make sure we knew he was too cool for this job.
Cory had connections, according to Maddy.
“His dad knows everyone,” she said.
When Cory walked by, I made vrrt-vrrt sounds, like he was farting with every step. I did it when he was too far away to hear. Every time I did it I kept a straight face and Leo would turn red from trying not to laugh. Leo thought I was funny. Like it was one of my main characteristics. It felt great.
It also felt great when Gary got mad at Cory for not wearing his peasant hat during part of his first shift. “You’re in England!” he told Cory. “One more stunt like that and I’ll fire you.”
“I guess Cory’s dad doesn’t know Gary,” I said to Samantha, and she laughed too. So maybe more than one person thought I was funny.
2.
Leo and I were vrrt-vrrting past the concession stand when he stopped all of a sudden and grabbed my arm. “Look,” he said. “Right over there. Daniel Alexander.”
Daniel Alexander was the man who had founded the Summerlost Festival almost fifty years ago. He knew everything about the festival and was still involved with running it. Every now and then he came across the courtyard and if you were close enough to say hi to him he would always say hi back. To anyone, even though he was famous. He actually reminded me of Leo, the way his face lit up.
Leo had said hi to Daniel Alexander five times.
I had said hi to him zero times.
“This way,” Leo said. “Today’s the day.”
“The day I finally talk to him?” I said. “Or the day you ask if you can interview him about Lisette Chamberlain?”
“The day you talk to him,” Leo said.
“I can’t believe you’re such a chicken about this,” I told Leo. “It’s almost like you’re scared of him.”
“Oh, I’m definitely scared of him.”
“But he’s so nice.”
“Exactly,” Leo said. “It’s worse when nice people get mad at you. And he’ll be mad if he finds out I’m giving a tour about his friend.”
“But he could probably tell you so much.”
“Shut up,” Leo said. “He’s right there.”
And he was. Daniel Alexander had stopped near us to look at the signboard with the day’s Summerlost Festival activities on it. I could already see people around the courtyard turning his way, preparing to swarm. Now was our chance.
“Hi,” I said, and I must have said it loud, because Daniel Alexander jumped when he turned around, and his purple drink went all over my skirt and blouse.
“Oh no,” he said. “I’m so sorry.”
“Is that wine?” Leo asked.
That made Daniel Alexander laugh his wonderful laugh and more people looked in our direction. Including Cory the Hellfart. Including Gary. Oh no.
“Heavens, no,” Daniel Alexander said. “It’s my special health drink. I have it every morning. Tastes awful, but it’s supposed to keep me young.”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief and handed it to me. “But I’m afraid the berries in it probably stain terribly.” He blinked. “Well. Nothing to worry about, my dear. You go down to the costume shop and they’ll fix you right up. Ask for Meg.”
I hesitated. Hadn’t Gary said something about making sure to stay on Meg’s good side? And wouldn’t my showing up in a stained costume be a bad thing?
Out of the corner of my eye I saw Gary moving our way.
I could let Gary get mad at me or take my chances with the unknown.
“Go,” Leo whispered.
3.
The stairwell down to the costume shop smelled old, like my dad’s elementary school, which he showed us once when we went to Portland. The floor at the bottom was speckly linoleum. The ceiling felt low and the lights hummed.
I walked past doors that said WIGS and MAKEUP and kept on going toward the end of the hall and the sign that said COSTUMES. Every sound I made seemed to echo. I tried to make sure my sandals didn’t squish or slap.
When I got to the costume shop doorway, no one looked up. So I stood looking in. Rows and rows of clothes on racks, all around the room. Shelves at the back. Sewing machines and ironing boards and long tables with chairs. A mini-fridge near the door. Four or five college-aged women and men moving around doing different things. One woman sitting at a computer in the corner. And an older Asian lady with short white hair sitting at one of the tables using a tape measure. She had glasses on a chain around her neck, and she wore a black apron over her blouse and pants.
She was the one who looked up first. “Can I help you?”
“I’m looking for Meg,” I said.
“That’s me.”