Just Desserts

Gordie's breathing was steady, his face focused and ready. "Hit Chris, and this is going in your back, you piece of shit hood."

I stood there, open-mouthed. Literally. Customers who weren't already gathered around, leapt from their seats, and it felt like a thousand eyes were on us with a sea of voices murmuring to each other in the background.

Jack eyed the fork before releasing Chris and lowering his fist. "Lachance... You know, for a kid whose so smart, you seem to forget the basics of stuff. Like consequences."

Gordie's knuckles were white as he gripped his weapon, eyes locked on Jack below him. "Fuck consequences."

Jack smirked. "I think you're talking too big, little man. You're in over your head." His right hand moved swiftly behind his back, and a sharp flick could be heard before the metallic glint of a blade shone by his side. He turned the cold, sharp six inches of steel over in his fingers as he focused on Gordie like he was ready to go.

"He's got a knife!" The shrill gasp rang out from somewhere in the crowd, and the sea of murmurs became panicked shouts at Gordie that went off like fireworks around the diner. But he didn't so much as flinch as he and Jack stayed locked in a silent battle of wills.

"Gordie, come on, man," Chris said. "You've got to let it go." And too right he had to. From what I knew, Gordie was no brawler, and even if he was, he'd need more than a fork to make this an even fight.

"I'm sick of these guys coming after us all the time," Gordie said.

"I know, man. But, this ain't you."

Gordie lifted his gaze to the audience to see all eyes on him, gripped to the moment. His slim face blushed at the sight, and his knuckles, still white as they clutched the fork now trembled slightly. He took another sweeping gaze around the room as if looking for a particular someone, and his eyes finally landed on raven-haired beauty Belinda. She'd managed to snag the perfect view, balanced on one of the booth seats with a clear vantage over the heads of the crowd. She stared back at Gordie, her gaze unwavering, a look of surprise like she couldn't believe her pretty eyes.

Gordie's chest rose and fell, heavy with panic, and he stepped back as if he felt the room pressing in on him from all sides. The fork slipped from his grasp and hit the aluminum table top, the clatter ringing through the suddenly hushed diner. Gordie jumped down and bolted for the door, but with the time it took to pull the heavy thing open, Jack grabbed him from behind, locking him in a tight headlock with one arm, the knife still gripped firmly in the other. Gordie struggled, his hands clawing at Jack's arm as he was pulled away from the door and swung around to face us all.

"Jack, let him go," Chris demanded. "You want someone to take the fall? Let it be me."

"You've all earned a few licks now, Chambers," he chuckled cruelly. "First brains, then four-eyes, and thenyou."

The tension hung in the air like a fog overcasting the scene. The fury in Jack's eyes was vicious, and Gordie's, helpless. Still, I tried to struggle, desparate to do my damndest to get out and to not see that knife slip.

At that moment, the door swung in and two police officers strode through, cutting away the tension with that one swift movement. Moke released me in a panic, and Jack, quick to think, dropped his switchblade to the floor and kicked it aside so it slid under one of the booths into nowhere.

The officers surveyed the scene, all authorative in their tan uniforms, and badges gleaming under the diner's lights. "You two again," one of the cops, the larger of the two, sighed heavily.

"Yes, them two, officers!" the waitress called out, breaking through the crowd. "They're the ones causing all the trouble 'round here!"

"Thank you for calling, ma'am." One officer cuffed Moke to a table while the other closed in on Jack.

"Wait..." Jack pointed at Teddy. "That four-eyes vandalized my car!"

"Tell it to the judge, Mudgett," the officer replied, pulling Jack's hands behind him. "You'll be lucky if he lets you off with juvie this time."

Jack struggled, his face contorted with anger and frustration as he tried to twist out of the officer's grip. "But I didn't do nothin'! It was him!"

"Oh, so you're gonna tell me you didn't kick a minor in the stomach with all these witnesses present?"

Jack continued to kick and struggle, his feet dragging across the linoleum as the officers hauled him toward the exit. The entire diner watched in stunned silence as it took both officers to finally force him into the back of the police car.

Meanwhile, Moke strained against his restraints, desperation in his eyes. The metal cuffs dug into his skin, reddening where they held him tight, yet he pulled harder like he genuinely believed he could break free. "Don't press, OK?" he pleaded with me. "If I get charged, Ace will kill me."

The officers returned to escort him out, one gripping him firmly while the second held the door. Moke's eyes locked onto mine as he was hauled away, his lips silently mouthing 'Please' until he disappeared from sight.

"I saw how he held you, ma'am," the second officer said. "I assume you'll be pressing charges?"

I hesitated, considering the implications. After a long moment, I shook my head. "You know what? I'm fine. No harm done to me."

"Are you sure?"

"I don't want to."

He scoffed, looking down his nose at me as if I were no better than the scum they had just put in their car. But I didn't care. I wasn't about to give Ace any reason to hurt someone, whether Moke meant it as a figure of speech or not —no matter who it was.

The officer turned his attention to the boys. "You need to watch yourselves," he warned, his finger wagging at Teddy, then Gordie, and finally landing on Chris. "Especially you."

Chris flinched slightly but stood his ground. The officer's stern gaze lingered on him a moment longer before he added, "Don't think any of you are off the hook. I'll be reporting this to your parents."

He tipped his hat to the waitress and gave me a final, dismissive look before heading out.

"Alright, y'all," the waitress called out, her voice booming as she crossed the diner toward the kitchen. "Back to eating, you hear?"

Once the squad car had driven off, the crowd drifted back to their tables, and the clatter of dishes and low hum of conversation slowly returned.

Teddy fell into the booth, still rubbing his stomach after the blow, and Vern suddenly reappeared in the booth next to him from... somewhere.

"Hey, where'd Gordie go?" Chris asked, scanning the diner. We both swept our eyes over the tables and booths, but Gordie was nowhere in sight.

"Maybe he slipped out," I said.

Chris rushed out with me tight on his heels.

"Gordie! Wait up!" he called, his voice straining. We had to sprint to catch up as Gordie power-walked up the pavement, his arms swinging with a determination that bordered on desperation.

"Are you okay? Just stop, man!" Chris reached out, grabbing Gordie's arm and pulling him to a halt.

Gordie's breathing was ragged, his face flushed, eyes darting as if trying to process everything that had just happened to him. "Didn't you see, Chris? Everyone was staring at me… like I'm some kind of freak. Iama freak."

"That's bullshit man."

"I threatened to stab a guy with a fork. That's not normal."

"You were just sticking up for your friends. The same we always do."

"No. I wanted to hurt him. I wanted to hurt him bad. I'm just so sick of those guys always... I wanna make them leave us alone. Ever since the time out on the Back Harlow Road... it's like... Jack was right. I don't even care about consequences anymore. This town sucks, the world sucks, and sometimes I don't even care if I'm not part of it anymore."

There was a moment of pause as Chris stared at his friend, reading him and soothingly rubbing his shoulder. "It's been a rough year, man. For all of us. Don't be so hard on yourself."

"Gordie," I said gently, "I think most of us feel like that sometimes. It's like it's a part of growing up. I've been through it, but I eventually emerged from the other side. Life can get better if you let it. Or if you make it."

Gordie glanced at me, his expression softening as he rested on my words, a calm settling over him as if he realized there was some sense in what I said.

"What's the matter with Gordie?" Vern asked as he and Teddy caught up.

"He's OK," Chris replied.

"Damn, that was cool," Teddy chuckled. "Gordie 'Fat One' Lachance saves the day again."

"Why did you do that, Teddy?" Gordie barked at him.

"Do what? What did I do?"

"You messed with Mudgett's ride! Why didn't you just poke a stick in a hornet's nest, dumb ass?!"

"Pfft - those two are pussies," Teddy laughed. "You should've seen his face as he was chasin' his shit-heap down the hill."

"This isn't funny!" Gordie yelled, his frustration returning. "This will all come back on us again. When Ace hears two of his boys are going to Juvi because of us-"

Teddy's grin faded away. "Did you even ask what he did to me first? He threw a rock through my kitchen window! Scared my mother shitless!"

"Just cool it for a minute," Chris said calmly, placing a steadying hand on each of Gordie's and Teddy's shoulders. "I'm sorry, Teddy, we didn't know."

"So, what was I supposed to do, Chris?"

Chris took a deep breath, the weight of their situation pressing down on him. "I don't know, man. But it doesn't matter what we do or don't do. Ace and his gang… they'll always find an excuse to come after us. The most important thing is that whatever happens, we gotta stick together. Right? Just like we've always done."

Gordie and Teddy looked at him, the tension between them still lingering but beginning to soften as Chris's words sank in. The seemed to be a loyalty that bound them tighter than any threat Ace and his gang could throw their way.

"So," Chris said, his voice gentle, "make peace. Slip some skin."

Gordie hesitated, but then, with a reluctant sigh, he extended his hand. Teddy took it, their grip firm in a silent pact.

"Oh shit…" Teddy said. "We forgot the food."

"Oh yeah!" Chris said.

"I'm goin' back to eat."

"Nah, I'm not goin' back, man," Gordie said.

"Well, diner girl just bought us free food," Teddy said. "I'm goin'."

"And I need my cherry coke!" Vern chimed in.

"We should stick together, remember?" Chris said. "Especially right now. Once Ace hears word..."

"Teddy, why don't you collect the food and bring it to the Blue Point?" I suggested, and the four heads turned my way. "We're closed so there's no one in there. It'll just be us."

Vern's eyes lit up. "A whole diner to ourselves?!" He subtly licked his lips.

"But… eating at Mickey's is... cool," Teddy said, and Chris raised his eyebrows at him. "Fine… I'll get her to put it in doggie bags. Sheesh…"

—

Not long after, the four of them sat huddled in a booth in the Blue Point, three of them with burgers from Mickeys, and one with a cherry-flavored coke. Vern was enthusiastically telling us a story about this one time when his brother Billy got hauled off to Juvi for three months, and he caused so much trouble, they couldn't handle him so let him out again after one. I wasn't sure how true the story was, but it was so fun watching him tell it that I didn't care for the truth of it.

The other three didn't seem to share my interest, though. Teddy leaned back in his seat, eyes wandering from wall to wall with clear apathy for being made to sit in a place so completely void of cool. Chris, on the other hand, chewed his burger slowly as he kept turning around to check the front door as if half-expecting a particular someone to burst through it at any moment.

Gordie sat the stillest of them all, staring down at his untouched burger. It sat there looking limp and soggy, a sad reflection of its owner. His face was pale, eyes distant, like the weight of everything that had just happened was too much to shake off.

I looked down at my chicken burger in front of me, also soggy and sad-looking. I thought of giving it to Vern, but if I was ever going to sample the competition's food, now was my chance.

I bit into it.

The crispy chicken coating crunched as I chewed, and for a split second, I thought I might've underestimated it. But then… nothing. Bland. No kick, no tang, no spice... no salt—just dryness and the taste of unripe tomatoes. There was some soggy lettuce, an egg, relish, a smattering of ketchup - so technically, it was a burger, but it wasn't hitting any of the flavors that make youenjoyone.

I sighed, putting it down after just one bite. There was no way people went to Mickey's diner for the food; that much was obvious. Teddy had been right—it was all about the cool factor, the vibe. And frankly, I had no idea how to compete with that.

A knock at the door grabbed our attention. Chris was already going for the door and I wasn't far behind him, but it was more like a hesitant tapping rather than an angry thumping, so I wasn't too concerned.

We could see a figure through the frosted glass. He was tall and his shoulders were broad - definitely a guy.

"It's Bryce," Chris said.

"Who?"

He unbolted the door and opened it a crack. The University of Oregon jock-looking guy who had been dining at Mickey's stood before us. Bryce Pemberton, I then recalled. Seeing him close up was much different. He had a thin, deep scar across the right side of his forehead, and he leaned heavier on his left leg when he stood as if it were supporting most of his weight.

"Hey… Chris," Bryce said. "I saw you guys come in here. Can I talk to Gordie for a minute?" He peered into the diner through the gap in the door to see Gordie turn around to meet eyes with him.

"Is it OK, Cass?" Chris asked.

"It's alright with me," I shrugged.

We let Bryce in, and he walked stiffly up the aisle like he couldn't bend his right knee. He stood by the table where the guys were sitting and took Chris's space next to Gordie. His right leg was too stiff to get under the table, so he sat sideways with both legs stuck out into the aisle.

"Can I get you something?" I asked Bryce. It was more of a knee-jerk reaction to someone taking a seat in my diner... but then, I realized the possibilities.

"No thanks," he replied awkwardly. "I've just eaten... Sorry... Err..."

I nodded and gestured for Chris to follow me up to the counter. Oh, popular Bryce Pembertonwouldbe dining in today - oh yes. He was about to try the best damn milkshake he'd ever tasted.

"How are you doing, Gordie?" Bryce asked. "I haven't seen you in a while. How have you been?"

Gordie stayed quiet.

"I erm… I still miss your brother, you know?"

Gordie glanced up at him, then back at the table. "Me too."

"Hey, why are you so down? Because of what happened at Mickey's?"

Gordie sighed. Just sighed.

"We all thought it was cool how you stood up to those guys."

Gordie's head snapped up, his sad, soggy-looking face full of disbelief. "Nah, everyone thinks I'm weirder than ever now. I saw the way they looked at me."

"Weird?" Bryce chuckled. "Are you kidding? You're Denny Lachance's little brother! You're forever cool, man." He reassuringly rubbed Gordie's carefully combed and slicked hair, messing it all up. But Gordie didn't seem to mind. The corner of his lip raised in a lop-sided grin.

"You know he'd be proud of you for standing up to those douchebags. And that's all that matters, right?"

Gordie nodded, his face warming at Bryce's words as if they were wrapping around him like a comforting blanket.

"Chris..." I whispered softly near his ear. "Did something happen to Gordie's brother?"

"Woah! You've got ice cream?" Vern had joined Chris and I at the counter. He was on the customer's side, kneeling on a stool, pouring over the array of flavors spread out before him. "Guys! Guys! You gotta see this! Sincerely!"

Our counter was like an easel to an artist, spread with a tantalizing selection of fruits, ice creams, and sweet sauces. All the heavy, hot food was cooked in the kitchen out back, so the front-of-house was dedicated to serving freshly-brewed coffee, creamy milkshakes, and delicious treats. It was practically dessert heaven.

Vern's eyes darted from one ingredient to the next as if he didn't know what to start on first. His little tounge licked his lips like he could already taste it all.

"I thought you were full, Vern," I laughed. I scooped vanilla ice cream into three giant glass pitchers. A generous amount of chocolate syrup went into one, strawberry syrup into the next, and toffee syrup into the last with a splash of milk for each. Each pitcher does two shakes for six in total.

"Do you do chocolate with cherry?" he asked excitedly.

I took the cherry sauce and squirted some in with the chocolate.

"Anything you get, Vern, you gotta pay for," Chris said.

Vern dug into his pockets and pulled out a couple of candy wrappers, a dice and a cigarette butt.

"I dunno if we can afford these, Cass..." Chris said.

"It's OK," I assured them. "These are on the house."

"But, you've already bought us-"

"Don't worry - this will pay off. I hope."

"And can we have chocolate flakes?" Vern asked, eyes wide. I just loved this kid's enthusiasm.

"Why don't you come around this side of the counter and top it with whatever you like? Just wash your hands over there first," I said, gesturing toward the small sink.

Vern's face practically glowed. Without hesitation, he zipped around the counter like a shot, barely pausing to scrub his hands before rushing back.

"Oh man, this is the best day ever!" he exclaimed, visibly vibrating with energy.

I chuckled thinking I should have said he could have a free milkshake if he'd let me squish those adorable cheeks.

I grabbed a few chunks of dark chocolate, and tossed them into the chocolate-cherry blender with a handful of shredded coconut and a handful of frozen cherries. The blender roared to life, its chonky-whir drowning out the low chatter of the other three at the table. Chris winced, hands flying to his ears as if the sound was drilling into his skull.

"Sorry about the noise, it's old," I called over the racket, watching the chocolate and cherries mix into a thick, decadent swirl.

Once the blender came to a sputtering halt, I poured the creamy chocolate-cherry mix into tall, classic-milkshake-style glasses and topped each with a generous cloud of whipped cream, the peaks curling like little white mountains. I slid one glass to Vern, who was practically bouncing beside me.

"Knock yourself out," I said, handing him a spoon.

Chris and I got on with making the others. After mixing the berry shake, we hand-stirred in a hefty spoonful of raspberry jam, thick and tart, then sprinkled chocolate flakes into the mix. Then came the toffee shake. Chris ripped two bananas off the bunch and threw them into the blender, and the air was soon heavy with the sweet scent of ripe bananas blending with the caramel undertones. We topped all the milkshakes high with cream and, for the final touch, sprinkled on more chocolate flakes and some diced Russian fudge I'd made earlier. The golden chunks sunk into the cream, melting slightly in the cool mix. I popped a straw and spoon into each glass before reaching up to switch old Crosley on, and the radio crackled to life before playing us 'Great Ball of Fire' in its tinny voice.

The boys and I carried six towering shakes over to the booth, Vern proudly carrying his creation which stood out like a work of art. He'd topped it with chocolate flakes, chunks of fudge, chopped peanuts, and a handful of fresh raspberries for a burst of color. His blue eyes sparkled as he slid into the booth, unable to contain his joy. "This is the best day of my life, sincerely..." he grinned, before shoveling whipped cream and chocolate flakes into his mouth.

"Pick whichever one you like, guys," I said, waving a hand over the line-up.

"Are you sure?" Teddy asked, skeptical as he reached for a toffee-flavored one. He took a cautious sip through the straw, his eyes lighting up for a split second before he tried to mask his enthusiasm, playing it cool.

"What do you think?"

"It's... alright," he shrugged. But he couldn't hide how each sip grew longer, savoring the creamy sweetness, and soon he was spooning out chunks like he couldn't get enough, trying to keep up with Vern, who was well into his shake by now.

"Bryce, which one would you like?"

"Oh, I couldn't," Bryce said, rubbing his stomach like he was already stuffed, though his eyes betrayed him, drifting to a berry one.

"Come on, Bryce, you know you want to," Gordie teased. I must say, it was nice to see him cheering up again.

Bryce hesitated before surrendering. "Oh, okay." He reached for the berry shake and gave the straw a tentative sip, the pink concoction swirling beneath the whipped cream.

"Hey... Wow, that's really good!"

I insistently slid Chris a chocolate shake, and Gordie snagged the second toffee one, leaving me with the last berry. The table filled with contented sips and quiet hums of approval.

"These are free for today," I said, "however, if you like them, please spread the word far and wide."

"Ah, so you're a marketing genius at work, huh," Bryce eyed me with a knowing grin. "Well, I don't mind spreading the word on these. That jam is just something else."

"Thank you. It's homemade."

"So, how did we come to be the lucky ones today?"

"Well," I replied, shooting Chris a side-eye, "when you're friends with the waitress who practically has no other friends, you get all the perks."

Bryce looked me over, a thoughtful expression crossing his face, like he was piecing something together. "Sorry," he said after a pause. "I know I haven't been back in town for a while, but… who are you?"

"It's OK," I laughed it off. "I've only been in town for a couple of months. I'm Cassie." I reached across the table to lightly shake his hand.

As he took my hand, his gaze lingered on my face. "Why do you look so familiar?" he chuckled, but then his smile faded, something dawning on him. "Oh… uh…" He cleared his throat, glancing away awkwardly. "I'm sorry, it's just… you look like my err... cousin."

Gordie scrunched his nose, glancing between us. "Which cousin? You've got like... four, and they're all guys."

"It's a... distant cousin," Bryce said quickly. His face flushed slightly as he cleared his throat again and shifted in his seat.

The realization hit me like a wave, and for a second, the room spun. He knew me. Here sat another person—who wasnotAce Merrill—who could know something about my past. I studied him, searching for any detail that might strike a memory. His hair was a deep chestnut brown, slightly tousled, his nose sharp, adding a hint of rugged handsomeness that would make any girl swoon. He was fit and athletic-looking, the kind of guy who could easily pass for a football player, yet he limped around on his bad leg like he'd be lucky to ever run again. Bryce's eyes were warm, stong and wise, and yet there was a subtle shade of something else—an air of secrecy that hinted at untold stories lurking just beneath the surface. The more I looked at him, the more interesting he became, and the more questions I had. Who was he, really? And how had we crossed paths?

Bryce noticed me staring and shifted away slightly. "Hey, so, how did you say you know Chris?" he asked, trying to steer the conversation away from that awkward moment.

I shrugged, still studying him. He knew me, that much was clear. But why did I make him feel so uneasy? "It just… happened that way."

"Cassie helped me out with school," Chris said.

"Oh!" I said, slapping the table. "How did you do on the exam?!"

Chris's face shifted, the smile slipping as he stirred his spoon in his shake. "Oh… well," he said, his voice low. "I don't know how to tell you this…"

My heart dropped. "Oh no! Chris, what happened?"

"Well, remember how they didn't let me study for it? I had to sit it on the spot."

"But… you knew it, right? Are you sure they marked it correctly? There must have been some mistake…"

His grin returned. His cheeky little grin. "Yeah, I knew it. I aced that thing."

I groaned with relief. "Chris! You little trickster!" I playfully ruffled his short hair. Hard. "Did you beat your last score?"

"A hundred percent."

"What - you got a hundred percent, total?"

"Yeah."

"Way to go, Chris!" Bryce praised.

"I was nervous though," Chris said. "Mr. Hawthorne and Ms. Anderson watched me the whole time... a bit like the way shopkeepers do when I enter a store. But once I got started, it was easier than the first time." He casually licked more cream off his spoon.

"I knew you'd do it," I said. "I never had a doubt. Did they let you back into college prep?"

"Mr. Hawthorne's still working on that," Chris continued, stirring his shake thoughtfully, "but he's giving me extra homework so I don't get behind. He just needs to wait for the next meeting with the board, and I should be back in. Everything's been easier since Ms. Anderson left."

"Ms. Anderson?" Bryce's eyebrows shot up. "That old battle-axe was there when I was at that school. And when my father was there!"

"And now she's down the road like yesterday's news," Teddy chimed in with a smirk. I noticed both his and Vern's glasses were scraped clean.

"I guess she had no choice but to leave," I said.

"Yeah…" Chris's grin faded. "I've been thinking, though… it wasn't all her fault. I kinda feel bad."

"Why?" Teddy blurted, staring at him like he'd lost his mind.

"Yeah, Chris," Gordie added. "She made your life hell. She made everyone's lives hell."

"And she tried to rob you of a good future," I added.

"She got what she deserved," Vern chimed in.

Chris shook his head slightly. "Yeah, but… I was a shit student. I fucked around in the back of her class for years. How could I expect her to believe in me after all that?"

"You're capable of great things," I said. "You always were. And I bet if she'd recognized that from the start instead of slapping a label on you, things would have worked out differently."

"I'd have to agree with that," Bryce nodded in support.

Chris sighed, his thumbs tracing the patterns on the milkshake glass. "Anyway, that was just one math exam. I've got a ton more stuff to learn and catch up on - and not just math."

"You'll do it," Gordie said.

"Yeah, you know we'll help you," I chimed in, clapping a hand on Chris's shoulder.

"Thanks," Chris said, grinning with appreciation. After a long sip from his straw, he leaned toward me. "Hey, Cass, I'll race ya," he gestured at my barely touched shake.

I arched an eyebrow. "What?"

"To see who can finish first."

"A milkshake race!" Teddy piped up, jumping up in his seat. "Dig it!" It was the most animated I'd seen him all afternoon, and his energy caught me off guard.

"You don't think you can beat me, do you, Cass?" Chris snickered, the curve of his smile lifting those adorable cheeks.

"No," I replied, "IknowI can beat you."

"Ooohs" erupted from the boys.

"It's game on!" Gordie said, sitting up straight. "But you've both gotta finish the whole thing," he added matter-of-factly. "Cream, fudge, and everything."

I took a breath, peering down the barrel of the tall, towering milkshake that suddenly seemed bottomless.

"Ready?" Gordie announced, his voice barely carrying over the boys' whoops and hollers. Teddy was the loudest of all, perched on the booth seat, bouncing in a crouch as his shouts filled the diner.

Chris and I exchanged eager, competitive grins, our straws poised and ready.

"Three, two, one, GO!"

I attacked my milkshake, sucking down the creamy goodness, the chill of the ice cream numbing my throat. My milk emptied out before his, and I started scooping all of that yummy, creamy, fudgy, berry-tarty goodness into my mouth, spoonful by spoonful. Meanwhile, Chris, realizing he was falling behind, threw his straw down on the table and guzzled his shake straight from the glass.

"Hey!" I protested, laughter bubbling up as I tried not to spatter cream as I spoke. "No fair!"

A muffled sentence echoed in his upright glass through a thick wall of foam, and it sounded something like, "Wasn't in the rules!"

Knowing I'd need to hurry the hell up to win this thing, I threw my spoon and straw out of the glass and lifted the bottom high. The cold combination of whipped ice-cream and sweet fudge slid down my throat, and a sudden sharp pain drilled right through my temple. "Aghh! Brain freeze!"

I held my palm against the pain with one hand as I continued to pour with the other. Meanwhile, Chris scooped out the remaining cream with his spoon, finishing with a proud slam of his glass on the table.

"Done!" he raised his hands in triumph and licked remnants of cream from his lips as Teddy reached across the table to give him a congratulatory slap on the shoulder.

I finished up, albeit a bit more slowly, eventually emptying my glass and not sorry at all that my friend came out on top. We shared a moment of laughter as we grabbed a napkin each from the pile on the table and wiped our mouths clean, the fun of it all still lingering.

"If everyone in town tried one of these, this place would be fuller than a county fair on a Saturday," Chris joked. "They'd forget all that stuff the lady wrote in the paper."

I stared at him, surprised. I hadn't realized he was aware of it; I had purposely held off from mentioning it because he had so many of his own life problems to deal with.

"She's really done the damage - just like she wanted," I sighed, looking around at the emptiness of the place. "And with that and Mickey's now opened down the road, it will be a challenge getting it back to the way it was."

"But, you're not giving up, right?" Vern piped up, a daunted look on his face. "I mean, Mickey's milkshakes suck compared to these. If I could never have another one, that would be like... torture that would last my entire life!"

"Well, we wouldn't want that," I chuckled.

"You know," Chris said, "before I came in a couple of weeks ago, I thought this place only served soup and bacon and eggs."

"What? Really?"

"We all thought it was a place for old people," Gordie added.

"You need a fresh look and something to draw in a crowd," Bryce suggested thoughtfully. "An event of some sort."

"Like... milkshake competitions." Ideas began to spark in my mind. "We could do them every week!"

"Every week?!" Vern looked like he'd just hit his threshold for excitement overload.

"And maybe we could kick things off with an opening day," I added. "A fresh start for the Blue Point."

"I bet I could get my cousin to come play his guitar," Chris offered, his eyes lighting up. "I mean, if you want live music."

"Err… you mean… Keith?" Bryce's face twisted slightly, but he tried to hide it.

"Yeah! Maybe he could even bring his band. He plays 'Johnny B. Goode' just as well as Chuck Berry himself, Cass. Better, even."

"Wow, he must be really good! You could ask him, then?" My excitement was hitting an all-time high as the plan started to take shape.

"Sure," Chris shrugged, grinning. "Anything you need, I'll help. I owe you a few."

"Oh, I completely forgot, I'm heading out of town in like... tomorrow," Bryce said. He looked more awkward than ever as he took hurried sips from his shake.

"But you gotta come, Bryce," Gordie said.

"Yeah, you're in it now," Teddy added.

Bryce glanced at me, that awkwardness between us ever lingering. "Alright, I'll try. And I'll definitely spread the word."

"Thanks," I said, although I didn't count on it.

"I gotta go, actually," he said, glancing at his watch. "I've got something on tonight."

"How about I see you out?" I offered.

"Oh, you don't have to—"

"No, I do."

I waited at the door while Bryce said his goodbyes, then held it open for him as he navigated his stiff leg outside. I let the door close firmly behind us while Bryce looked around, checking that we were out of earshot of anyone nearby.

"Don't tell them, please," he said quietly, his voice tense. "Promise me you won't."