“Okay,” I said, nodding. It wasn’t like it was making up for missing my summer program, but it was something, at least. “When?” I attributed my loss two years ago to the fact that I’d spent far too long trying to get the impossible, high-points items, rather than just getting more of the easier, low-points ones. I wondered if I still had the list somewhere, so that I could use it to start refining my strategy.
“Just plan on August for the moment,” Palmer said, smiling down the table at Tom. “We have to look at the performance schedule.”
“Oh, right,” I said, nodding, feeling my stomach sink. “The play.” I realized as I looked around that all my friends’ plans were set already, and had been for weeks now. Bri, our cinephile, was working at the Palace Movie Theater. Toby was volunteer docent-ing at the Pearce, the art museum in town—which, I now realized, explained Bri’s Monet reference. Tom was acting in the community-theater play, and Palmer was stage-managing it.
“So everyone else has a plan,” I said, looking around, realizing that for the first time I could remember, I was the one at loose ends, with no solution for this in sight.
“You’ll find something,” Palmer said confidently to me as she took a sip of her Coke. “It’ll all work out in the end.” This was Classic Palmer—she was hardwired for optimism and seemed absolutely incapable of not seeing the bright side. All the Aldens were like that. They didn’t dwell; they looked for solutions, made some snacks, and kept moving forward.
“Okay,” I said, sitting up straight, figuring that maybe I could learn something from her. “I have to fix this.” I needed some sort of plan. I didn’t even care if it was a good plan right now. Just so long as it was something concrete. “I have to do something. I can’t just hang out all summer.”
“We always need people to help build sets,” Tom interjected from the end of the table. “I mean, it doesn’t pay or anything. And some prior set-building experience is preferred. But I could put a good word in for you.”
“And all the really good internships are gone,” I continued, not letting myself get distracted by this. “Same thing with summer programs and volunteering slots.”
“Do we need to be here for this?” Toby whispered to Bri.
“So I need to do something else,” I said, my fingers itching for a pen so I could start brainstorming. “Something that might not look as good per se, but something I could spin if I needed to . . .”
“I don’t think we do need to be here for this,” Bri whispered back, and Toby shook her head.
“Told you.”
“I need . . .” I looked around the diner, like it might provide some answers for me, and blinked when I saw that maybe it had. There was a bulletin board by the door that I’d never paid much attention to, covered in business cards, missing-pet posters . . . and help-wanted flyers. “Bri,” I said, nudging her. “I need to get out.”
“Why?” she asked, even as she slid out so I could get past her.
“Can I finish the bacon?” Tom called as I practically ran up to the bulletin board and started scanning it. There was nothing hugely promising right away, but there were a few that looked like possibilities. I pulled out my phone and started taking pictures of the flyers. Looking for summer tutor—must be proficient in French; COMPUTER HELP REQUIRED WILL PAY $$; Mother’s helper needed, 30hrs/week. None of them would be perfect—and I’d stopped taking French in eighth grade—but it was something. I’d started to put my phone away when my eye landed on one all the way in the corner. NEED A SUMMER JOB? the top of it read in twenty-four-point type. I leaned a little closer. Great Pay! Flexible Hours! Work Experience that will look great on any application or résumé!! Call or e-mail SOON! There was a phone number and an e-mail address listed beneath it.
I read it over again, wondering if I’d missed what this job actually was. But there was no explanation, which actually made me a little wary. It reminded me of that time Palmer’s sister Megan was home from college on Christmas break and took what she thought was a job selling knives that actually turned out to be part of an elaborate pyramid scheme.
“Find anything?” Bri asked, and I turned my head to see she was leaning over my shoulder, looking at the bulletin board as well. I nodded, then tapped the vague one in the corner.
Bri read the ad, then frowned. “But what is it?”
“I don’t know,” I said, pulling out my phone and taking a picture of it as well. “But there’s only one way to find out.”
Chapter FOUR
“I don’t like this,” Toby said through my phone as I parked in front of Flask’s Coffee and cut my engine.
“Me neither,” said Bri. It was two days later, and I was on a conference call with all of them. But since Palmer was stage-managing, she had to pretend she was paying attention to the play. She had one of her earbuds in, hidden by her hair, and could only say “Mmm-hmm” occasionally.
“Mmm-hmm,” Palmer said, somehow managing to convey great disapproval in two syllables.