The diner looked like something from the set of a high school theater production of Grease. There were red vinyl booths with metallic flecks in the plastic. Every table had a Formica top with curved chrome trim. There was a jukebox playing oldies in the corner, and a counter crammed with truckers, travelers, and teenagers. And the neon lights that ran along the top of the walls glowed bright red, pink, and radioactive green.
After Emily and Ana walked in, they were quickly seated at a booth by a waitress wearing a pink-striped jumper, glasses on a chain around her neck, and a bouffant hairdo a color of orange that nature never intended. Emily slid in next to the window, and Ana sat next to her. Seconds later, Brandon slid into the other side and let out a low whistle.
“Can you believe this place?” he asked with a grin. “Go, greased lightning.”
“Right?” said Emily. “I want a double cheeseburger right this second.”
She flipped open her menu as Ana and Brandon did the same. Ana let out a gasp. “Holy cow! There must be twenty-seven pages in this menu. They have every sandwich you can possibly imagine.”
“And a few that you can’t . . .” Brandon pointed to something called a “tongue” sandwich. “How ’bout we not order one of those.”
“Agreed,” said Emily and Ana said together.
Emily ordered food like she’d been stoned for a month and was finally going to satisfy her munchies once and for all. Brandon joined in. By the time the waitress left their table, Ana was shaking her head in disbelief.
“How are we possibly going to eat all of that food?”
“We’re not,” said Emily. “But I am going to try a bite of everything.”
“And I plan to finish whatever she doesn’t,” said Brandon.
“And don’t forget,” Emily said, “we have to save room for a Strawberry Tsunami.”
“A Strawberry Tsunami?” asked Brandon. He shook his head. “I’ll be having one of those on my own, so you’d better plan to order one for yourself.”
The waitress brought the food out in shifts. First, Ana’s tuna salad on field greens arrived with Emily’s double cheeseburger and onion rings, and Brandon’s pastrami Reuben with french fries. The stuffed grilled cheese with bacon and tomatoes arrived next, along with a basket of chicken fingers and sweet-potato fries with extra ranch and honey-mustard dipping sauce.
“Is there anything else I can get you right now?” the waitress asked.
“Yes,” said Ana, staring in horror at the tabletop. “I’ll need a stretcher and an ambulance to carry my friends away once they eat themselves into a diabetic coma.”
The waitress laughed, and Brandon and Ana began snapping pictures of the plates one at a time. Emily spread mayo and ketchup on her burger, and was hefting the whole thing to her mouth when Ana smacked her arm. “Hang on. I need a picture of this.”
Emily bit down on the burger like she was in a commercial on TV and Ana squealed as she snapped the shot. “That is the perfect summer image.” She swiped and tapped a couple of times as she uploaded the shot to Instagram, just as Brandon tagged Emily on Facebook in the same shot from his side of the table.
“Okay, you two,” Emily said as she swallowed the delicious first bite. “Enough with documenting the food. Eat it!” She forked two onions rings onto Ana’s bowl of salad, and watched as Ana tentatively put one in her mouth.
“Oh. My. God.” Ana sighed as she chewed. “This is the best thing that has ever been fried in hot oil.”
After two more bites of the cheeseburger, Emily passed it off to Brandon and tried a bite of his Reuben before doing what might have been described as a face plant in the grilled cheese. As she was dipping a chicken finger in honey mustard, the waitress reappeared just in time with a handful of fresh napkins.
“I don’t know how you do it,” she said as Emily grabbed the napkins and headed off a honey-mustard disaster in the area of her own chin.
“Do what?” Ana asked.
“Eat like that and keep those cute little figures,” said the waitress.
“That’s the point,” Emily said, smiling. “We don’t eat like this most of the time. We just got out of school this week, so we’re sort of celebrating.”
“Well, good for you.” The waitressed grinned. “Lordy, I think I’ve gained ten pounds just standing here watching.”
All three of them laughed as they watched the waitress waddle back to the kitchen. A few minutes later, and several more bites into the meal, Emily’s phone buzzed. She wiped her hands, then grabbed it to check her messages.
First she saw all the alerts from their Instagrams, tweets, and, of course, the Facebook notification for the photo of her stuffing the cheeseburger into her mouth. It was already racking up the likes. “Nice,” she said, nodding, as she showed Brandon and Ana. “I shall henceforth be known as Burger Girl.”
She stopped short, staring at the screen after the last of her alerts had loaded. There, listed in the dropdown from the top of the screen, was an e-mail from Kyle. Just seeing his name reminded her that the last time she’d cut loose like this in a burger joint was at the mall not far from her house. It was the week before prom and Kyle had dragged her away from her chemistry textbook for exactly forty-five minutes. Something about the memory of his blue eyes staring at her over the chocolate malt they’d shared after their meal sent a wave of—what was it? Nostalgia? Pity?—over her. She couldn’t decide if she missed Kyle, or if she just missed sharing a moment like this with someone who was more than a friend.
Her thumb hovered over the new message with Kyle’s name in her in-box. Should she see what it said? Part of her was curious. The other part knew it was just him asking her to go out with him again. Did she want that? He kept messaging her saying that he had changed. But how much could one person change in one month? And even if Kyle had changed, was he the guy for her? Emily remembered the relief of finally making the decision to end things. She’d hardly looked back. Kyle wasn’t a bad guy. He just wasn’t her guy.
“Earth to Emily. Come in, Emily. Over.” Brandon’s voice broke into her thoughts, and she looked up to see both him and Ana staring at her.
Emily felt her cheeks flush. “What?”
“What’s up with your phone?” Ana asked. “How can you be more interested in whatever is happening there than what is happening with these sweet-potato fries?” Emily laughed as Ana shoved aside her picked-over tuna salad plate and replaced it with the basket of golden-orange fries. She crammed four into her mouth after swiping them through the ranch dressing.
“Sorry,” Emily said. She clicked the button and her phone screen went dark, then she dropped it back into her purse. “Hey, Brandon?”
“Yeah?” Brandon asked around a final ginormous bite of cheeseburger.
“Do you know . . .” Emily’s voice trailed off. She didn’t even want to put the question into words.
“Do I know what?” Brandon asked. He was now making short work of the grilled cheese that was left.
“Oh . . . nothing.” Emily took a sip of her Coke and popped an onion ring into her mouth.
“Jesus. Why do girls always do that?” Brandon asked.
“Um, girls don’t always do anything, thank you very much.” Ana actually snapped her finger when she said this. “We are all individual creations of grace, beauty, and kick-ass-ness.”
“Kick-ass-ness?” Brandon asked.
Ana nodded. “You heard me.”
“Yeah. I also heard your friend with the blond hair and the onion-ring addiction just start to ask a question and not finish it.” Brandon’s eyes narrowed as he munched a couple of fries drenched in so much ketchup that they looked more like a glob of red than deep-fried potatoes.
“It was nothing,” she said. “I . . . forgot what I was going to say.”
“Uh-huh.” Brandon wasn’t buying it. “You know who I’ve never ever in my life heard start a question and then say ‘Oh . . . nothing’, Ana? A dude. That’s who. Never once. And I know a lotta dudes.”
Ana stuck out her tongue, which made Emily giggle and Brandon roll his eyes. “No thanks,” he said. “I don’t French long distance.”
Ana groaned and threw a napkin at him. “You’re such a pig. Spill it Emily. What were you going to ask him?”
Emily turned to look at her friend. This was so stupid. “I was just . . .”
“Spit it out,” Brandon said, “or I’m gonna tell our waitress to eighty-six your Strawberry Tsunami.”
Emily sighed. “Fine! Fine. I was going to ask you if Kyle was coming to the party.”
Ana groaned. “Why would you care?”
“I know, I know. I shouldn’t. It’s just . . . well . . . he just e-mailed me, and I haven’t talked to him at all since school got out, and I was just curious if I should worry that he’s going to follow me around the party tonight.”
“Why don’t you read the message if you want to know if he’s coming?” Brandon asked her. “I haven’t heard from the dude since last week at school.”
“And he wasn’t coming?” Emily asked.
“Not that I know of.” Brandon shrugged. “I mean, Em, either ignore him or don’t, but if you’re not going to read his messages, you have to be prepared that he might show up to the party.”
Emily didn’t want to talk about this anymore. She knew Brandon was right, and she felt like an idiot for bringing it up to begin with. So, when she saw the waitress headed back to the kitchen with an empty plate, Emily waved her down.
Surveying the table, the waitress sighed. “It looks like a great battle was fought at this booth.”
“The onion rings won,” groaned Ana. “I’m so full, I think I’m going to pop.”
“To-go boxes for any of this?” the waitress asked.
“No, thank you,” said Brandon politely. “We’re actually headed to a party after this.”
“Alrighty then. I’ll be right back with your check.”
“Actually,” said Emily, “I was wondering . . .”
“Yes?” The waitress raised her eyebrows, obviously shocked that this thin girl with the blond hair might be ordering something more.
“Tell me about dessert,” Emily said.
The waitress grinned and nodded, as if this were her goal from the beginning. “Now you’re talking,” she said. “Let me grab the dessert menu, and I’ll be right back to tell you about your options.”