When We Had Summer, page 6
“Get a bunch,” Lainie told her.
“Right,” Penny said, pulling out another. Then she just yanked out a handful and handed half to Lainie.
Lainie scanned the bins, which were arranged by type. “So what do you think Carly’s plan would be right now?”
Penny pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes. “Let’s start on opposite ends and meet in the middle.”
“That makes sense,” Lainie said. “I’ll take that side, with the gummies first?”
Penny nodded. “I can start on this side. Chocolate city, baby!” She got a wicked gleam in her eye. “Wanna race?”
“Pen, that’s not part of the Bucket List.”
“Come on, we can add stuff to an item. We always have.”
This was true. Carly and Penny were experts at coming up with ways to make the Bucket List even more challenging, more crazy, more embarrassing, or extra fun.
“Fine,” Lainie said, then darted over to the far side of the candy wall. Penny rushed to the other side, then took out a pair of black plastic tongs and clapped them together like they were the mouth of a hungry beast.
“Okay, candy,” Penny growled. “We’re coming for ya!”
Lainie took out her phone and snapped a photo of Penny and the Tong Monster, then shook open her first plastic bag. Let’s do this.
Swedish Fish and strawberry laces and cherry licorice. Red gummy bears. Multicolored gummy bears. Gummy worms. Sour gummy worms. Sour gummy kids.
SweeTarts. Candy Legos. Starburst. Taffy. Pixy Stix.
As Lainie added one of each, her bag grew heavier and thicker. She glanced over at Penny, who was still working her way through the chocolates.
Someone tapped her on the shoulder, making her jump a little.
“Here,” the store cashier guy said, holding up more bags. “If you’re gonna do every bin, you’ll need these.”
It was a close finish, but Lainie reached the middle of the candy wall first.
Now she and Penny had taken over a picnic table by the boardwalk, trying to arrange all the candy bags for a good picture.
“Can’t we do this later?” Penny asked.
“Nope. We need to get a photo before we eat a single one,” Lainie explained matter-of-factly. “Okay, wait…That’s good!”
Lainie stepped away from the table. Penny stood on the bench so she could fit all the candy in the shot—not easy—then snapped a few with her cell phone.
“What should I put as the caption?” Penny asked.
Lainie stared out at the ocean for a moment. What do you say about $50.32 worth of sugar?
“Say, ‘We came, we saw, we candied. Stay tuned for our favorites.’”
Penny chuckled as she typed. “I’ll tag Daniella.”
Lainie heard the whoosh sound from Penny’s phone that meant the post had been launched into the world. Penny put her phone down on the table and dug into one of the bags, pulling out two chocolate-covered somethings.
“The ice cream’s worn off. I think I can handle some candy now,” she said as she handed one to Lainie.
Lainie popped the chocolate into her mouth. “Are you excited for work?”
“Excited to be out of the house,” Penny said. “Not so excited about the uniform I have to wear. It’s like, ‘Hi, I’m Penny. I know you can see my bra through this tight white shirt, but how can I help you today?’”
Lainie started laughing, almost choking on her candy. “I’m glad we wear aprons at the bakery. Not that I have anything worth staring at.”
“You should be glad about that, too,” Penny said. “Trust me. So what are you doing today, since the bakery’s closed?”
“Today is ugh. The guy who wants to buy it is coming over with his Realtor, and probably his creepy daughter, so they can talk about details or whatever. Nana’s making all this food to serve them.”
“Why? Is it, like, a party?” Penny asked.
“No. I think she’s going to see if he’s worthy of Dulcie’s by how he reacts to her cooking. My mom said Nana put several of her boyfriends through the same test.”
“Do you want him to pass?” Penny asked, brushing her hair out of her face as the wind picked up from the water.
“No.” Lainie fished out a gummy bear and bit off its head. “Maybe. I don’t know. I mean, he seems nice enough. He says he wants to keep the name and most of the menu, so that’s good. But if Nana decides he’s not the right person to buy the bakery, nothing has to change yet. It could take a while to find another buyer.”
“And that’s better?”
“Way better,” Lainie said.
Penny nodded. “I get it.”
Do you really? Lainie thought as they both fell silent. Penny’s situation in OPH was completely different than hers. She’d probably be coming to her family’s beach house for years and years into the future. How could she truly understand what Lainie was losing?
Penny checked the time on her phone and sighed. “I guess I should go home and change into the world’s shortest shorts.”
“Yeah, Nana should be done with her meeting by now. I think it’s safe for me to head back.”
“Hey,” Penny said, reaching out to swipe away a fleck of chocolate from Lainie’s cheek. “Let’s do the next Bucket List thing together, too.”
Lainie smiled. “Deal. But which one? I think we should wait and do some of them when Daniella comes back. Like the music video and parasailing. And I can’t even begin to think about Grumpy Gus.”
“Ugh, yeah,” Penny agreed, shuddering. “That one could take all summer.”
All summer.
As she said goodbye to Penny and started riding her skateboard toward Nana’s house, Lainie thought of how those two little words swelled with promises and possibilities. Days that could be counted but also felt endless, too big for the squares on a calendar.
Today, Lainie sensed something else in those words. A good kind of newness. Fresh.
She and Penny had just spent a morning with each other for maybe the first time ever, and it was the most fun Lainie had had in months.
The fastest way into Nana’s house from the beach was through the backyard, which had a gate on the alley. Lainie stepped through it, skate deck under one arm, and took a deep breath.
The yard was tiny, but decades of Sunday afternoons had given Nana and Papa time to turn it into their own little paradise, with dozens of different types of plants and flowers growing around an ancient iron patio set. Nana loved gnomes and Papa collected old fishing gear, which made for some freaky decorations. One gnome stood smiling in the middle of a rusted lobster trap. Another hung from an old net strung across the fence.
Lainie opened the back door and stepped into the kitchen.
The sounds of laughter. Her grandmother’s high-pitched giggle, which was where Lainie got her own high-pitched giggle. Then a deeper voice chuckling in a satisfied way.
Crap. The meeting was still going on and everyone sounded happy. Not a good sign.
Lainie took off her Converse high-tops, tiptoed down the hall toward her room, and opened the door.
“What the—”
It was a girl. That Sasha person, standing by the window.
“Oops, sorry,” Lainie heard herself say. Wait, why the hell are you apologizing and what is she doing in your room?
“I was exploring,” Sasha said matter-of-factly. She took in Lainie’sbaggy T-shirt, jean shorts, and bucket hat. The mammoth bag of candy. “Did you know your lips are blue? That must be really toxic stuff you’re eating.”
Lainie put down her skateboard, then wiped her mouth as she spun around and marched into the living room. Nana, Mr. Mason, and Christina the Realtor were drinking coffee, the trays of food mostly eaten.
Nana turned to Lainie, her eyes bright…and Lainie knew. Mr. Mason had passed the test. It was all going to happen right away. She wanted to scream and pound a fist into the wall, then run off and stay out long enough for everyone to get worried about her.
“Ah, here she is!” her grandmother exclaimed. “My fabulosa Alaina. We can’t do any of this without her help. Come join us, mija.”
With that, Lainie’s urge to yell or hit or disappear vanished, swept away by a wave of guilt. She forced her (blue) lips into a smile and sat down.
THIS IS TOTALLY NOT WHAT I SIGNED UP FOR.
Well, okay, it is. But apparently I am an idiot.
Daniella tried to catch her breath in the corner of the dance studio, waiting her turn to move diagonally across the hardwood floor. According to the academy brochure, mandatory dance classes were a way to “get out of your comfort zone, expand your horizons, and grow as a complete artist.”
What they’d left out: When you take a bunch of kids used to sitting and playing music, then put them in a mirrored room and force them to learn jazz choreography, the result is not pretty.
“Today, your body is your instrument!” the teacher called out. She wanted everyone to call her Gem and appeared to be wearing three different-length skirts at once. “Feel the rhythm in every limb and organ!”
Daniella glanced across the room at Jules, who’d already taken their turn. Jules gave a huge eye roll, then imitated the way Gem wiggled her
hands and fingers. Daniella had to fight back a snort-laugh by clapping her hand over her mouth.
Then it was her turn, and she tried to remember the combination. She counted to herself as she willed her feet to do the steps they’d just learned.
“Don’t forget your arms!” Gem called to her. “They’re an extension of the music! They’re another instrument you’re playing right now!”
Daniella waved her arms in an attempt to copy what the other kids did. She purposely did not look in the mirror as she neared the opposite corner. If she caught even a tiny glimpse of how ridiculous she looked, she’d never be able to un-see it.
Once Daniella had finished and Gem moved on to the next victim, Jules grabbed her hand and leaned in to whisper: “After we’re done, meet me in the courtyard.”
“We have lunch next,” Daniella reminded them.
“Exactly.”
Daniella frowned, confused. “What does that—”
“Okay!” Gem shouted to the class. “Now we’re going to do the combination backward!”
Three minutes into their lunch break, Jules was leading Daniella out of the academy courtyard and down the street. Her new friend was so confident, so sure of where they were going, that Daniella decided not to ask any questions.
One block down on the opposite corner, there was a small park—a handful of benches, a play structure, some swings, and a basketball court inside an iron fence. A falafel cart was stationed at the entrance, covered in giant photos of the food it sold.
Jules stepped up to the cart and pointed to an enormous picture of a falafel sandwich. “I’ve seen this three mornings in a row now, and I can’t stop thinking about it. Want one?”
“I have my own lunch and didn’t bring any cash,” Daniella said.
“My treat,” Jules said. “You can cover me next time.”
Daniella glanced at the giant falafel. It did look amazing, and she’d been too chicken to remind Aunt Tina that she didn’t like peanut butter. Plus, she didn’t want to be rude to Jules. “Okay,” she said. “Thanks. I wonder how it compares to the falafel we have at our restaurant.”
“You have a restaurant,” Jules echoed, amused.
“Well, my parents do.”
“Dimitri’s falafel is much better than your parents’ falafel,” the man at the cart said in a dead-serious voice. “I am Dimitri, and I know.”
“Oh yeah?” Jules asked, raising one eyebrow. “I guess we’ll see.”
“Yes, you’ll see,” the man said, and started to make their sandwiches.
As they waited, Daniella took in the way Jules was standing, with hands on hips and chin up. Tall in black platform boots with tiny bat wings on them. It was only a matter of time before Jules discovered just how un-special and completely blah Daniella was. Tomorrow, for sure, they would find someone else to eat lunch at the park with, but today, Daniella would make the most of it.
After they got their sandwiches and sodas, Jules led Daniella to the play structure. “Let’s sit up there,” they said, then climbed a short ladder to a platform. Daniella followed.
“This is so much better than the academy cafeteria,” Jules added once they got settled. “I don’t want that school-jungle vibe in the summer. Know what I mean?”
“Totally,” Daniella said, wondering if she could keep coming here after Jules ditched her. She took a bite of her sandwich. “Oh. That guy was right. This is way better than the one they make at our restaurant.”
“Never doubt Dimitri,” Jules said in Dimitri’s monotone.
Daniella laughed and did her own version of the monotone. “Dimitri has a secret falafel recipe that he will protect with his life.”
Jules cracked up, and Daniella felt a surge of pride.
“Hey, look,” said a voice from somewhere below them. “It’s the oboist from my chamber group.”
Daniella glanced down and saw two kids peering up at them. One was the tight-ponytail girl. The other was a blond boy she also recognized from the academy. She didn’t know either of their names.
“I’m Margot, remember?” the girl said, as if she could read Daniella’s mind. “Violin. But you knew that. And this is Adrian.”
“Percussion,” Adrian said.
“You guys discovered our lunch spot,” Margot added. “We ate here yesterday.”
Daniella started to wrap up her sandwich, expecting to be asked to leave. Then Jules said, “There’s room for all four of us. Climb on up.”
Adrian and Margot exchanged a look, then Adrian hoisted himself onto the platform. “By ‘spot’ we meant the park in general,” he said. “But you’re right, this right here is the place to be.”
Margot climbed up, too.
“I’m Jules,” Jules said.
“Daniella,” Daniella added. “Hi.” She waved, then inwardly cringed. They’re sitting three inches from you, why the hell would you wave? It was like she couldn’t not be awkward.
“So, Daniella,” Margot said as she began unpacking her lunch from a brown paper shopping bag. “What are you?”
Daniella coughed on her piece of falafel. Thanks to her caramel skin tone and curly hair that tended to frizz in the slightest humidity, she’d gotten this question countless times in her life, but wasn’t expecting it just then. Lately, after her mom suggested it, she’d started answering with another question: “Do you mean, what’s my ethnicity?”
Usually people got squirmy and embarrassed at that point, but when Daniella said that to Margot, Margot lit up.
“Sort of! I’m really interested in people’s ancestry. Which means your ethnic descent. I’m half-Irish on my mom’s side and one-quarter French and one-quarter Lebanese on my dad’s side. Also, I’m autistic.” Margot paused. “We’re not sure what side that’s from.”
“Oh, cool,” Daniella said, then scrambled for a better follow-up. “My, uh, dad’s Italian and my mom is…well, she did some ancestry stuff, too, and found out her family is originally from West Africa.”
“Like the drumming we’re doing?” Adrian asked.
“Yeah, I guess. But I’ve never really tried it before. We don’t have a lot of African music opportunities where I live in New Jersey.” Daniella paused as something occurred to her. “Maybe that’s one of the reasons why my mom wanted me to do the academy. Too bad I suck at it.”
“Eh, we’re all bad at it right now,” Adrian said. “Give it a few days. I hear people catch on quickly.”
“What about you, Jules?” Margot asked. “Ancestry?”
“Well, according to my grandma, we’re ‘European mutts,’” they replied. “German, Austrian, English, it’s all in there. But I don’t know the exact breakdown, sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Margot said. “Most people don’t. I still like to know as much as I can about the countries where their families came from.” She paused. “Obviously, I’m the least popular kid in my school.”
Everyone cracked up. To Daniella, it felt like a bubble of awkwardness had just popped, and they could all be themselves now.
“I play percussion in the band,” Adrian said. “Nobody has a lower social ranking than me.”
“Oh yeah?” Jules said. “What happens if you’re such a weirdo, you don’t even have a social ranking?”
“Then you’re a true oddball,” Adrian replied, “and I salute you.”
He held up his energy drink, and Jules clinked it with a seltzer.
“To us oddballs!” Jules said.
They all laughed again, taking turns clinking their cans and drinking. Soon they were sharing more information about where they lived (Jules lived in the West Village, Margot was from Brooklyn, Adrian from Long Island), why they decided to try the academy, what they liked about it so far, and how much Gem scared them.
At one point, Jules turned to Daniella and casually asked, “How are you doing, by the way? Better than that first day, I hope.”
Margot frowned. “What happened on the first day?”
Daniella hesitated for half a second, wondering whether she should throw her personal mess at these kids she just met. She took a breath and said, “I had a freak-out about feeling like I didn’t belong here. But now…maybe I kind of do? Because there are so many different kinds of people here, compared to where I live. At the academy and in the city. Not only racially but personality and style-wise, you know? It’s like, everybody belongs because belonging isn’t even a thing.”
She paused, about to ask Margot what Brooklyn was like, but then her phone dinged. She looked down to see a FotoSlam notification.
Your friend LuckyPennyA777 has a new post.
The others started talking again, but Daniella couldn’t resist peeking at FotoSlam. She opened the app and saw Penny’s post about the Candy Universe trip. The colorful bags of candy against the beige metal of the picnic table. Penny and Lainie grinning. Being goofy.
