Chapter 2
A/N: I own nothing. This is a minorly edited version.
Emily and Joe insist on getting ice-cream the moment the last basket is given away. Apparently, it's the thing to do and I'm not complaining because I love ice cream. I've actually been meaning to check out the ice cream places in town but jet lag is no joke. It's a six hour time difference between here and Hawaii and I've been feeling every minute of it. I would love to just sleep in one of these days, but my grandmother and my dog, Winston, get up really early in the morning. Winston's my golden retriever who's meant to be almost five but still acts like a puppy. I can still remember the day I got my period when my dad and I went to the pound and picked him out. He only has three legs, but he used them all to jump into my lap and I was immediately sold.
As we join the crowd of people leaving the gymnasium, I spot our target only a block away from the middle school. I find myself amused by the size of the town where a throng of people can connect a school and an ice cream parlor. I'm hoping they'll have neapolitan, which is my favorite-a true classic. It's really a great way to judge the character of an ice cream place. I highly doubt the crowd at the place is really a reflection of the quality of ice cream as it's probably the only ice cream parlor in town. Luckily, we're one of the first groups out the door. Although, truth be told, I have nothing better to do for the rest of today. I'm crunching noisily across the gravel parking lot, a few steps behind Joe and my dad who chatter away animatedly. My dad's telling Joe all about his new remote job (something to do with technical consulting that I never really follow) and Joe's regaling dad with all the town drama. Every so often, they mention something about their old life together and two of them start cracking up. The only thing Joe doesn't mention is his late wife. There's obvious awkward moments, stories where she'd be included having hung out with the two of them together. After a moment, I realize that we must have lost Emily. I slow down and Emily catches up to me. When she's within eyesight, I nearly burst out laughing.
"You're bringing your prize basket to get ice cream?" I ask Emily, seeing the basket in her arms. She looks ridiculous, her small arms encasing the large cellophane-wrapped wicker. It's nearly as big as her. I slow down so our feet can fall into rhythm beside each other. "You're taking a victory lap or something?"
A warm smile spreads across her face as she tightens her grip around the basket, crinkling the cellophane. She's got a deep dimple on the right side of her cheek.
"If I put it in the car, we'll be waiting two hours to get ice cream," she says. Although I still find the idea of bringing it ludicrous, I do see her point. The number of people beside us going to get ice cream is enormous and I suddenly understand why Emily and Joe picked to sit where they did.
"So I guess you come here a lot," I say as the end of the line approaches. Thankfully, there's only ten people in front of us.
"Not so much anymore," she says, sounding pained. I eye her, but I can tell she doesn't want to talk about it by the tone of her voice. I focus on the sign instead, my eyebrows lifting at the missing SC letters in the red sign above the door.
"Wait, please tell me this place is actually called Sam's Oops," I say, changing the subject.
I hear that musical laugh once more. "Kind of. That sign hasn't been changed in five years so it's become the unofficial nickname of this place."
"What's your go to?" I ask as I read the available options, thankful that I have my contacts in.
"Chocolate vanilla twist on a cone with rainbow sprinkles, but I haven't had one in years," she answers promptly, her attention on the front window. It's a childhood ice cream and I love that about her. I wonder if it's because she used to come here as a child with her mom. A picture of a younger Emily with her mouth covered in ice cream fills my mind and I bite back my smile.
"Man, if you think you haven't had an ice cream cone from Sam's in years, Clark it's gotta be two decades since we last came here together. The summer before senior year. Remember?"
Joe nods, grinning. "You got mint chocolate chip in a cone and I smashed it into your face about fifteen seconds after you paid. Had to get you back for pantsing me in front of the whole cheerleading squad."
They both start laughing, shaking their heads in unison. I exchange a quick look with Emily, both of us rolling our eyes at the long night of nostalgia ahead of us.
"Your mom was so mad at him," my dad says, turning to look at Emily and I feel her tense next to me, the smile wiped off her face. "I just can't get over how much you look like Jules."
I don't remember Emily's mother particularly well, but I can tell the comment makes her incredibly uncomfortable. I wish a little that people said that about me and my mother.
"Doesn't she?" Joe says, a sad smile painted on his face. After a moment of silence, he clears his throat and I can tell nothing else will be said on the subject. He turns back to my father, leaving Emily looking at him expectantly. "Did I tell you about that construction gig I had on Luke Wilkinson's property? With the glass ceiling?"
"So," Emily says, looking back at me as we shuffle forward. "How are you liking Huckabee so far?"
"Well, I've only been here two days and I slept most of the first since we took a Redeye," I say hesitating a little. "But to be honest with you, it feels almost like an alternate universe."
She snorts. "An alternate universe with a lot of cows."
I nod in agreement as I think about the town I've left behind. "A lot of cows."
Emily tenses and I turn my head to see those same teens trudge past us, ice cream cones in hand. So, apparently they're not friends and I wonder why. The two boys notice me, looking me up and down slowly and I almost want to laugh, knowing they have absolutely no chance with me. The girl swats the arm of one of the boys. When the last boy passes, he doesn't look at me at all. Instead, his eyes are stuck to Emily, pain clear across his face as he watches her until they're too far away.
"What did you do to him?" I ask when they're out of earshot.
"Oh, you know," she says and sighs. "The usual. We dated. We broke up. We dated. We broke up again."
Ah, so she dates boys. Maybe, she doesn't only date boys though. "You think you'll get back together again?"
I'm hoping the answer is no, but I can tell his answer is yes.
"No, I don't think that's going to happen this time," she says with some emotion I can't identify. "He won't even talk to me. I mean you saw the look he gave me. Pretty obvious he's going to hate me for all eternity."
She has no idea just how much he's in love with her.
"Really? Hate? I didn't get that." I bite my lip, not sure if I want to tell her the truth. "Seemed to me like he isn't over you. Maybe he's just waiting for you to talk to him."
We're interrupted by a "Next!" from the cashier and move forward. I'm glad not to tell her that he's obviously pining for her. I've always been able to read teenage boys easily, maybe because I genuinely have no romantic interest in them.
Our ice cream cones come out surprisingly fast and I take a lick of mine. It's much better than I was expecting and I devour it on the way back to the elementary school. Because of the speed at which I'm eating, I'm suddenly overcome with an intense headache.
"Brainfreeze? Put your tongue on the roof of your mouth," Emily says. She must have made the same mistake before. "It works like a charm."
I do it and instantly feel better. Once it's gone, I'm devouring the cone again. It really is delicious. The bitter chocolate cuts the overly sweet strawberry perfectly, the vanilla making them both creamier.
Joe nudges Emily and we turn to look at him. "Still good to pack tomorrow? I brought a couple of boxes home from work."
Emily grimaces and I wonder if she feels the way I felt when we left the last house my mom lived in. My childhood home, ripped out from under me. Just another reason the move here completely sucked.
"Packing?" my dad asks.
"Didn't I tell you we were moving?" Joe asks, but I know dad would have remembered.
"You're kidding!" my dad exclaims, his eyes wide with shock. Ice cream slides off his cone and lands on the pavement, somehow managing to steer clear of his shirt. Oh, to not have boobs. "The second I get to town, you're packing up?"
"Not out of Huckabee," Joe says, pointing his spoon at my dad as he replies. "Just into something smaller."
He says the last word after a pause, like maybe he means something else.
"He'd never leave Huckabee," Emily stage whispers to my dad.
"I don't know what I was thinking," my dad says with a laugh, turning to say hi to an old classmate. It's nice that my dad at least has friends here. "We could swing by tomorrow to help you pack for a bit."
I try to ignore the slight increase in my heart rate at the idea of seeing Emily again so soon. I was trying to come up with a reason to see her again, but new friendships are awkward and hard.
"Don't you have some unpacking to do?" Joe asks.
"Our boxes don't come in for another three to five business days," my dad says, grinning widely. "How about we do a trade? We help you tomorrow and in exchange you help us later this week."
"Deal," Joe says, crushing the empty cup in his fist and holding out his free hand. They do a firm handshake, like this is some kind of solemn oath and not just casual plans. Even if the great romance in my head doesn't work out, it'll be nice to have a friend this summer.
"Does three work? Or three-thirty?" my dad asks as he nods to me and starts walking towards our car. "This one's still a little jetlagged."
"Three's perfect," Joe says. "Em works Saturday mornings at Nina's bakery."
She's a baker, I think to myself and I imagine those slender fingers kneading dough. Then, I imagine those slender fingers elsewhere.
"Nina," my dad asks. "As in Nina Leaven?"
"Nina Besset is what she goes by now," Joe corrects, grinning. "But yes, that Nina. Her daughter Kiera is best friends with Emily."
I wonder about this girl who's her best friend. Platonic friends? Stop it, I chide myself. Of course, platonic because she's not interested in girls.
"Was that by choice or predetermined?" my dad asks.
"A little bit of both," Emily says and there's that laugh again. This girl is certainly going to be the end of me.
"Well, this is us," my dad says and he unlocks our porsche. It's an ostentatious car, but my dad loves his cars. In a town like this, I can't help but think he wants to be noticed too. He hugs Emily and gives Joe a handshake before entering the car. On impulse, I hug Emily too and smell a mix of honey and flour and vanilla. She smells like a cake. When we hold each other for a second longer than is etiquette, I force myself to pull away and wave at Joe.
"Bye Mr. C." We get into our car and leave.
"Not too bad, huh?" my dad asks as we drive away from the school.
"Not too bad," I confirm, my mind on the smell of Emily in my arms. If I hadn't pulled away, I wonder how long we would have held each other like that. I know we've only known each other for an hour, but I can already tell Emily is going to make Huckabee feel like home.
"You and Emily seem like you get along," he says encouragingly with a smile.
I mimic my dad's smile as I can't help but think that maybe this Bingo night wasn't so bad at all.