There are worse things in the world than being a hot dog, probably.
Like, yes, it’s humiliating, but I’m pretty much left to my own devices, and I get a ton of breaks. It’s the same for most of the other costumes too, except Cinderella and Prince Charming, which can stay on pretty much all day. Seb and Megan have it the hardest, though, in the fluffy rabbit and fuzzy cat costumes. They can only stay in their suits for about ten minutes at a time, on account of the big heavy heads. Seb tried to push it once but ended up passing out. Apparently, nothing terrorizes kids more than seeing their favorite park mascot passed out and twitching, except maybe when its head rolls off too. Yikes.
I have a little time to kill after my costume fitting before I have to meet Seeley for lunch, so I creep over to the gondolas to hide for a minute and process stuff. We’re not actually supposed to be riding the rides today—today is just for test runs and inspections—but there’s been such a weird vibe in the park ever since Mr. P’s speech that I don’t think anyone will actually care enough to stop me. Besides, if they do, I’ll just point out that I have a finite amount of time left to ride the gondolas anyway, so it’s practically their duty to let me on.
Marcus is on the landing talking to Sara when I get there, and they give me a little wave. I don’t wave back, because Sara is the enemy. She broke Seeley’s heart into about a million pieces when she dumped her for her next-door neighbor a few months ago. So, no, no waves for Sara.
They go back to talking, and I slide into one of the bright blue pods, pulling the safety bar down over me. The ride itself takes only eight minutes round trip—four minutes out over the swan boats, the castle, the dive pool, and the carousel, and then four minutes back. But it’s definitely my happy place. I rest my head against the sun-warmed fiberglass and feel the hum of electricity against my cheek. It’s so surreal, being up this high all alone.
The park drifts by beneath me: Jessa and Ari practicing their dance, Nick and the other divers goofing on the trampoline, and there’s Seeley already at the carousel polishing the horses. I can’t believe Mr. P is taking this all away from us. Maybe some people don’t care, but Seeley and I practically grew up here, and my mom and I used to come here all the time before she—
Hot tears prick at my eyes and I wipe them away with the back of my hand. No. I’m not going there. I have to focus on what’s right in front me. I have to find a way to save the park. There has to be something I can do.
Seeley’s still buffing out the horses when I drop down onto the bench beside her. It’s an old scratched-up thing, screwed down between our beloved carousel horses, Butters and Racer. Countless people have sat on this bench, but I like to pretend the history here is all ours, that every scratch came from our parents’ belts and rings or from that one summer I spent on crutches.
“I’m getting your precious Butters all set for opening day,” she says, scrubbing hard enough that all the muscles on her arms stand out.
“Is it weird being the one in charge?” I tilt my head. “There’s gonna be all these little kids hopping on and off all day. That used to be us, you know?”
“I think it’ll be kind of fun. Like a passing of the torch kind of thing.”
I sigh. “It’s kind of hard to pass the torch if the place is closing.”
“Lou,” she says, looking up at me.
There’s a splash nearby, and I turn in time to see Nick in action, his bleached blond hair plastered to his head as he pushes himself out of the pool. He’s not wearing the pirate suit, and I can’t decide if that makes it better or worse.
“Nice view, eh?” Seeley says, the moment ruined as she flips the rag over her shoulder and leans against one of the horses.
My cheeks go pink and I roll my eyes, but yeah, it kind of is.
“Pathetic,” she snorts.
I try to ignore the way Nick steps to the edge of the platform behind us, staring up at the sky like he’s praying. He does that before every dive. I wish I knew what he was saying. “Come on, See,” I say, tearing my eyes away. “I’m starved.”
“I can tell.” She waggles her eyebrows. “All right, hot dog girl, let’s go find some food.” She links her pinkie with mine the way she has since we were little, and I follow her down the path with a smile.
Having a big catered meal together the first day back is kind of a Magic Castle tradition.
You’d think Mr. P would cheap out and get a bunch of burgers and hot dogs, but he doesn’t. We have exactly one nice restaurant in this town, Bellini’s, and he always orders from it. It’s all Italian dishes: eggplant rollatini, lasagna, chicken parm, and these super awesome little cannoli that the pastry chef makes fresh every morning. They’re my absolute favorite treat in the entire universe, but there are only two times a year I get them: opening day and my birthday. And it’s not my birthday for a couple months, so . . .
I can’t help but feel a little choked up again as I walk into the breakroom, the worn gray lockers that dot the canary yellow walls making me feel oddly sentimental. I used to dream of working here, and just when I finally have a place in this stupid breakroom, he takes it all away.
I sigh and shovel some of the eggplant rollatini onto my tray, grateful at least that Mr. P accommodates the noncarnivores among his staff, and then slide farther down, scooping up some spaghetti and letting it ooze across my plate. I reach the end, ready to grab some cannoli and be on my way . . . but there’s a bowl of candy where my cannoli are supposed to be.
You have got to be kidding me.
“Where are the friggin’ cannoli?”
This is Just. Too. Much. Maybe I could have come around on the whole “closing up shop” thing with a valid reason, but I definitely 100 percent cannot deal with not even getting some farewell cannoli out of it.
“Seriously?” I shout, turning back to look for Seeley. “He didn’t even get us the cannoli?” Only it’s not Seeley behind me, it’s Mr. P, whose eyebrows about hit the ceiling. “Um, hi, Mr. P. Thanks for lunch, it’s a really nice spread.”
“Everything okay, Ms. Parker?” he asks, and the formality sounds so foreign. I mean, the man practically lives at my house during tax season.
“Yeah, everything’s perfect. I was just saying how great the food is and not flipping out at all that you’re closing us down and I don’t even get cannoli.” I gulp. “I’m gonna stop talking now.”
He blinks hard, his lips a straight line, and if he’s waiting for me to say something else, he’s going to be waiting a long time.
“Always nice to see you.” He steps around me and grabs some candy. “Tell your father I said hello.”
“Will do.” And man, I wish I could disappear right into the puddle of spaghetti on my plate. I scurry to sit at the nearest empty table and drop my head onto my arms. Worst first day ever.
The chair beside me scrapes back and I groan, glad that Seeley is finally finished getting her food. “I am literally the biggest asshole on the planet.”
“Um,” someone who is definitely not Seeley says.
I lift my head up, frowning at the sight of Nick in front of me. “What?” I snap. I meant What is even happening right now? but to him it probably sounded more like What the hell do you want?
“Sorry.” He tightens the grip on his tray. “Do you want to be alone? I can go.”
“Uh, no, sit.” I hang my head and take a deep breath. “I just thought you were Seeley.”
“It’s okay.” He crinkles his forehead. “I can sit outside, really.”
“No, seriously, stay.” I probably sound a little too eager, but I don’t even care. “I made a huge fool of myself in front of Mr. P a minute ago—please don’t also make me add ‘was an ass to Nick’ to the list.”
He chuckles and shakes his head. “Wow, Elouise, great first day, huh?”
I stab my fork into the spaghetti and twirl it around. “Something like that.”
“I can’t believe this is our last summer here.”
I sigh. “Don’t remind me.”
Nick leans back in his chair and looks around. “I’m even gonna miss this crappy breakroom. We all gotta hang more while we still have this place. Who knows where we’ll end up next year.”
“Oh, you mean like we did last summer?” And yeah, it was ballsy to say that, but I’m not gonna not call him out on his bullshit.
“Hey, I wanted to hang! You were the one—”
Seeley drops into the seat next to me. “What’s up, loser?” I’m embarrassed for a split second, until I realize she’s talking to Nick. And then I die a little inside because I’ll never get to hear the rest of that sentence. I was the one that what? Didn’t want to hang? WHAT WAS HE GOING TO SAY? I look over at him, but he’s gone back to eating like nothing ever happened.
“Eh, not much. Just waiting to hear if I have to drive your ass to judo tonight or if you’re skipping again.”
I roll my eyes. Nick started taking the same judo class as Seeley when he moved here, and I’ve pretty much been seething with jealousy ever since. Lately, they’ve even been carpooling. If it wasn’t so expensive, and they weren’t both in the advanced class, believe me, I’d be right there karate chopping next to them—or whatever it is they do there. But there’s no way I can even ask my dad for that.
“Remind me again when you leave for college?” Seeley laughs and flicks a chunk of her roll at him, which bounces off his tray and ricochets onto mine. Awesome.
Nick snorts, pushing his hair back and stretching. I notice he has barely any pit hair. I wonder if he trims it. Probably does. I can’t decide if I like that. I can’t decide if that’s okay. I can’t decide if this is an appropriate amount of time to stare at a boy’s armpit in general. Probably not.
“You guys are lucky you have one more year,” Nick says, attacking his food again. There’s a little bit of sauce stuck on the corner of his lip, and my brain kinda short circuits when he flicks his tongue out to swipe it. “I feel like I just got here and now I have to leave, you know?”
“Um.” I stare at him, because what are words even when you’re looking at Nick Mulholland’s tongue, but Seeley nudges me with her foot to snap me out of it. “Yeah, but you’re only like two hours away. That’s not bad. You can still come home all the time.”
Please, please, please, let him come home all the time.
“Yeah,” he says, “but Jessa’s going to be about four hours away in the other direction.”
I shove another forkful of food into my mouth and try to look thoughtful. I want to ask why he’s worrying about that when she’ll most likely just make them break up again, but it’s probably best if I keep chewing instead.
“Where is Jessa, anyway?” Seeley asks.
“She was by the castle when I was on the gondola,” I say. “I think she and Ari were just finishing up.”
Nick hunches down over his plate and shovels more food into his mouth. “So.” He lets out a small sigh. “What are you guys planning for this summer?”
And there it is, the tiniest hint of a lisp. It doesn’t pop up often, usually only when he’s all excited or worked up about something, but man, when it does, I just melt. It’s like my favorite thing. I don’t know if anyone else notices it. I don’t even think he does.
“Working here and figuring out how to master sequential art so I can get into a good school next year,” Seeley says.
“Sequential art?” he asks, and yes, please, keep talking while I melt into a puddle of goo beside you.
Seeley rolls her eyes. “Yeah, like comics and stuff.”
Nick crinkles his eyebrows. “You can go to college for comics?” His phone buzzes before she gets a chance to answer, and he slides his chair back with a squeak. “Sorry, I gotta run.” He picks up his tray. “I’ll catch up with you later?”
“Sounds good.” I smile, and okay, sure, the lisp disappeared again but it was there for a second, so . . .
Seeley at least waits for him to leave to shake her head at me. “Pull it together, Lou.” She giggles, but the sound dies in her throat when she looks behind me.
I whip my head around, following her line of sight. “What?” But then I see it, or her, actually. It’s Sara, walking into the breakroom and getting in line.
“Ignore her,” I say.
Seeley huffs, angling her mouth so her breath makes her hair fly around. “That’d be like me telling you to ignore Nick. You can’t help it. It defies rational thought.”
“Yeah, but she’s not worth it.”
Seeley lowers her head and jabs at her chicken with a fork. “She is. Or was. I don’t know, I think ‘is’ still applies.”
“It’s been three months,” I say, like that matters, like time means anything when your heart’s on the line. It doesn’t, I know, but what else can I say?
Breakups suck, especially when you don’t see them coming, and Seeley definitely didn’t. Sara didn’t even have the decency to give her a reason. She just said, “I would rather date Chelsea now.” I mean, okay, I guess that’s kind of a reason, but I think if Sara was like, “Oh, we fight a lot” or “I hate your parents” or “You chew with your mouth open,” Seeley would have probably taken it a little bit better.
Because as it stands now, it’s just like “You’re not good enough” or “You’re not Chelsea” or something. I’ve spent the last three months doing everything I can to convince Seeley that isn’t true. Well, the “not good enough” part anyway, I can’t help the “not Chelsea” part. But for real, Seeley is the best. She’s funny, smart, she can draw, and, bonus, she has the cutest cluster of freckles on her left shoulder that I’ve ever seen in my entire life. In no universe should someone as awesome as Seeley ever be single, except for by choice. Sara is a total fool.
“Right, it’s only been three months.” Seeley sighs, glancing over to where Sara is sitting. I lean over and poke her in the side, right where she’s most ticklish. She jumps and scowls at me, but at least it gets her attention off the girl behind us.
“None of that. We need to get you back out there.” I flash my eyes.
“I don’t like the way your face looks right now.”
“That’s very rude.” I laugh. “I happen to have a very nice face.”
She starts to crack a smile but looks away, pursing her lips to stave it off. “You have your scheming face on, Lou. Whatever you’re thinking, no.”
“What I’m thinking is: you’re going on a date.”
Seeley looks at me, rolling her eyes again. “With who?”
“Leave that part up to me.” I grin. “But the fact that you said ‘With who’ instead of ‘I’m not’ tells me that this is definitely a good idea.” I grab both of our plates and dump them in the trash, following her outside as the gears turn inside my head.
“I don’t know, Lou.”
“Trust me,” I say, and she should, too, because if there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s finding people to fall in love with.
Seeley’s barely out of sight before I start running through every option I can possibly think of . . . not that there’s a lot in this small town, or at least not a lot that are out anyway. But it’s not until later, when I’m walking back to my car, totally distracted while defining the parameters of the perfect-girl-for-Seeley rubric in my head, that it hits me. Or rather, I hit her.
“Oh crap, Angie. Sorry!” I say, grabbing onto her to regain my balance.
“Easy there, Jimmy Olsen.”
I flash her a confused smile. “What?”
“You know, from Superman? The little reporter guy who’s always lost in thought,” she says.
“Right, totally.”
Angie tilts her head. “You have no idea who I’m talking about, do you?”
I shrug, guilty as charged. “Seeley’s really the one that’s into comics. I just let her draw them on all my stuff.”
Angie laughs. “I don’t blame you. She’s really good.”
And that is the exact moment that I realize that Angie’s really good too. Excellent, actually, in terms of being the most ideal girl for Seeley ever.
“Well, I’m gonna go,” she says, drawing the last word out, and I realize that I’ve been staring at her for way too long without talking.
“Oh yeah, totally,” I say, and I hope my smile doesn’t give away how over-the-top excited I am right now. Because this, this is definitely going to work.
Angie gives me a strange look as she walks away, but honestly, I can’t worry about that right now. Now that I’ve solved the mystery of Seeley’s future soul mate, I’ve got bigger fish to fry.