by Emily Lowry
There was an art to making a good cup of frozen yogurt. You needed to pick two complimentary flavors, then scoop on toppings that would amplify those flavors. For this cup, I’d selected birthday cake and black forest cake, topped with cheese cake bits and cherries. Each bite made my head spin into that perfect kind of dizzy that came with a sugar rush.
Froyo in hand, I wandered down Main Street.
Evermore’s Main Street had a distinctly ‘50s vibe. The street lamps were vintage, cars weren’t allowed, and the boardwalk was made of old brick. In the summer, buskers and bands played for the crowd. From one end to the other, you could find everything from a man juggling flaming chainsaws to a dancing violinist playing Disney tunes. And let’s not forget the smells! Baked pretzels, cinnamon sugar churros, popcorn, and cotton candy all mingled sweetly together. Imagine an endless old-timey carnival and you have a great idea about what Main Street looked like in the summer.
I loved it as a kid, but I loved it even more as an adult. It was cool for a lot of my classmates at Evermore to hate on Main Street, but honestly, they were idiots. Main Street was the perfect escape. Where else could you find a bench, enjoy the sun, and watch a troupe of actors perform an improvised version of Romeo and Juliet? It didn’t have the dangerous charm of that underground night club Hailey was always talking about, but I liked it just the same.
My phone vibrated, rudely interrupting my afternoon.
Two messages. The first was a blast from Click.
“Oh, joy,” I muttered. The blast featured a photo of Chase. He was dipping into Beachbreak Burgers and looking around suspiciously. Weird. He was supposed to be on the first bus out of town this morning. The caption on the blast was rather innocent — especially for Click. It read:
QB1 stopping by Beachbreak to get one last burger before heading out of town. Come back soon, Chase. Summer won’t be the same without you and Abby devouring each other.
I snickered. This might have been the first time in my life that I agreed with Click. I briefly wondered who sent the blast, then dismissed the thought. The app was built on being anonymous. Even if I wanted to figure out who was behind it, I couldn’t.
The second message was from Dylan.
Dylan: It’s dead right now. Come to Beachbreak. Entertain me.
Hmm… a message from Dylan mere moments after a Click blast showing Chase at Beachbreak. Very suspicious. Very suspicious, indeed. I replied.
Jordyn: I’m very busy. And super important. If you want to see me, you’ll have to talk to my receptionist.
Dylan: See you soon.
Jordyn: What’s in it for me?
Dylan: The pleasure of my company?
Jordyn: Funny. But what do I actually get?
Dylan: It’s a surprise.
Jordyn: The last time you told me you had a surprise for me, you put a bucket of water on top of my bedroom door, told me the surprise was on my bed, then laughed as I got soaked. So excuse me for not believing you.
Dylan: See you soon.
Jordyn: Shut it, burger boy.
Ugh. Chase had probably done something stupid like ask Dylan to look out for me all summer. Watch out for Jordyn, he’d say, she’s not strong enough on her own. Make sure she doesn’t burn the whole town down. Really dangerous, that girl.
Whatever.
Beachbreak was only a few blocks away… and yes, I’ll admit, there was part of me that was very curious if there was a surprise or not.
I’d just have to watch for traps along the way.
11
Dylan
“You better be sure about this. She screws up, it’s on you.” Luis gestured in my direction with the spatula. He flipped a burger and threw it on a bun.
“I’m sure,” I said. I didn’t feel nearly as sure as I sounded. We were desperate for another waitress, and Jordyn was a hard worker. But, part of customer service was the ability to bite your tongue — which was not Jordyn’s strong suit. I dreaded the day she snarked the wrong customer and got put on blast on social media.
The door to Beachbreak swung open. Jordyn entered. She wore cut off shorts and flip-flops, her hair pulled back in a messy ponytail. There was a brown stain on her white t-shirt from the frozen yogurt she was eating. I had the distinct feeling her disheveled appearance was the result of a painstakingly calculated attempt to annoy her mother whenever she went back home. There was nothing Jordyn liked more than getting under someone’s skin.
“Hey Dyleeeeee!” Her voice was high-pitched and breathy, a perfect imitation of Lauren.
Sofia, who was busy rolling cutlery, burst out laughing.
“Oh my goodness, like how do you even volleyball? Like I don’t want it to hit me? Like oh my goodness will you save me from the scary volleyball? Ugh I just can’t even?” The impression was uncanny.
I tried to keep a straight face. “Welcome to Beachbreak, can I take your order?”
Jordyn licked off her spoon and scanned the menu, deliberately looking as dumb as she possibly could. “Um, like, do you have, like, um, like I really feel like a light lasagna, and maybe pair it with, like, a milkshake without ice cream or milk? Can you do that for me Dyleeeee?”
Sofia clapped a hand over her mouth to restrain her giggles.
I punched in Jordyn’s usual order. “Sounds like you want a Mexiburger, white hot, and a basket of Cajun fries. Cherry vanilla milkshake, or was Peak’s enough sugar for one sitting?”
Jordyn touched a hand to her chest, impressed. “And on my hundredth visit, Ramirez finally gets my order right.”
“Don’t count chickens,” I said, “there’s still time for me to screw it up.”
Jordyn grabbed one of the kids’ menus, a tin of crayons, and started coloring. “You should get a new menu. With a new maze. I’ve done this one a hundred times.”
I passed the order slip to Luis. “Make us a new maze and I’ll get it done up.”
“Can you imagine? Jordyn Jones — maze designer. Just kidding. I’m not qualified for that, either.”
“So, the job hunt…”
Jordyn gave a double thumbs down. “Even the entry level jobs want someone with experience. Also, how much do I owe you for the food?”
She tried to pass me a twenty, but I refused to take it. “You’re a Jones. The Joneses don’t pay at Beachbreak.”
“That’s a stupid rule.”
“My restaurant, my rules.”
Jordyn rolled her eyes. “Someone’s bossy.”
“Correct,” I said, laughing. “I could get used to this. I feel powerful.”
“Nice apron, Betty Crocker.”
“This apron enhances my natural masculinity.” I flexed.
The flicker of a smile passed on Jordyn’s lips.
“But. Back to your job hunt. I think I can help you out,” I said. “Beachbreak needs a waitress. It’s minimum wage, but you get a cut of the tips. Have to be willing to work evenings and weekends. That might be hard for someone who’s very busy and super important.”
Jordyn stopped coloring and eyed me suspiciously. “Did Chase put you up to this?”
I took a deep drink from my water bottle. I wasn’t thirsty, but I needed to stall for time. Jordyn was the type of person that would instinctively rebel against whatever you told her to do — even if it was in her best interest. If she found out Chase was involved, she’d run screaming out of Beachbreak.
Lying was the smart thing to do.
But I didn’t have it in me. Not with Jordyn.
I swallowed and nodded. “He stopped by. Said something about you wanting to burn the world down if you had to spend the summer locked up with your parents.”
“Thought so.” Jordyn stood.
“But — we desperately need the help.”
Jordyn narrowed her eyes. “Don’t lie to me, Ramirez.”
“I fired a waitress last night… and Dad’s out for the summer.”
Her expression softened. “His back?”
“Slipped a disc. Doctor want
s him to rest and take it easy for a few weeks. We’re trying to manage without him all summer. To do that, Luis’ll need me in the kitchen, not bussing tables.” I bit my lip. “Look — if you don’t want to get involved because Chase came and talked to me, I get it, Jones. I do. But we do need someone. You’d be helping us out big time.”
Jordyn looked around. At what, I wasn’t really sure. She pressed her lips together, grimaced, then the grimace broke and she smiled. “How about this? I help you out with your waitress situation, and you help me out with my little Click problem.”
“Click problem?”
“Someone sent me an anonymous message saying they were going to uncover all of my secrets — of which I don’t have any. But I’d still like to know who’s tailing me.”
I shrugged. “Seems more like a job for Abby, but if you’re desperate, I’ll help you out.”
“Good. Then I guess I can accept the job.”
“Whoa.” I held up my hands. “You don’t have the job yet. You still have to interview. I can get you in the door, but I can’t just give you the job.”
She rolled her eyes. “Fine. Who do I interview with? You? Luis?”
My lips curled upward like a cartoon villain. “Not exactly.”
12
Jordyn
I’d never been in the back office at Beachbreak before. A grey computer hummed, the monitor flickering. A schedule was tacked to a corkboard. And, on a small desk in the corner, a fan oscillated, the ribbons trapped in its housing whipping in the air.
Sofia sat behind the desk, tapping a pen to her lips as she examined me.
“And is this what you’d normally wear to a job interview?” Sofia asked. Her playful demeanor was gone. She looked like she should be interviewing college grads for internships at a Fortune 500. When had the shy little Ramirez girl grown into a full-on girlboss powerhouse?
Dylan snickered. He leaned against the wall, his muscular arms folded, amusement dancing in his eyes.
“I’m sorry?” I said. “No one told me there was going to be a job interview. In fact, someone — who shall remain nameless — told me I would be doing them a favor if I were to accept the position.”
I shot a glare at Dylan for emphasis.
He tried very hard to hide his smirk.
“I see,” Sofia said. She cleared her throat. “I’m going to ask you a series of questions related to waitressing. If you answer these questions to my satisfaction, you may get to experience the joys of working at Beachbreak. Should you fail, you will be banned from the premises, effective immediately.”
“You’re not serious.”
“Does this look like a game to you, Ms. Jones?” Sofia’s expression was serious.
She was joking, wasn’t she?
“A customer bites into their burger. Unfortunately, due to an error in the kitchen, the burger is undercooked. They complain. They want to send it back. What do you do?”
“Get them a new one, don’t charge them for the burger.”
“Good,” Sofia said. “That concludes the waitressing part of the interview.”
Dylan nearly choked. “What? You said you had a bunch of questions to ask.”
“And I do,” Sofia replied calmly. “Part of being a good waitress is making sure someone has the right personality. I need to know that Jordyn Jones can roll with the punches. So, I’m moving onto the personality portion of the interview.”
Great. I was super excited about that.
“You’ve known my brother a long time,” Sofia said. “Would you please tell me the most embarrassing story you—”
“That’s bull—”
Sofia glared at Dylan. “Luis.”
The door swung open. Luis was standing on the other side, clearly listening.
“Dylan has proved problematic. Would you please escort him out of the office?”
Grinning, Luis tugged at Dylan’s shirt. Dylan may have been the big, muscular running back for the football team, but Luis had been a linebacker during his Evermore days.
“I’m not going—”
That was the last thing Dylan said before the door closed with him on the other side.
Sofia could barely contain her laughter, her eyes mischievous. “As I was saying, Jord— Ms. Jones. If you could please enlighten me as to my brother’s most embarrassing story, that would be excellent. Preferably one that could be used for, oh, I don’t know, blackmail?”
I cracked a grin. “Oh, I’ve got a good one.”
13
Dylan
The laughter coming from inside the manager’s office was unnerving. Sofia didn’t know Jordyn that well, but judging from the shrieks and howls, they were already best friends. Jordyn had that effect on people. When you were around Jordyn, you got to be yourself. There was no pretension.
Assuming she liked you. If she didn’t like you… well, that was a different story.
The two of them were inside trading their favorite stories. Which ones would Jordyn pick? The time I repeatedly stalled my car in the high school parking lot in front of a bus full of cheerleaders? The infamous pantsing in seventh grade? The torn shorts at the water park?
Eventually, the laughter subsided, and the door opened.
Sofia came out first. “I like her. Seems like she’ll be a good fit. And oh, I was wondering if you wanted to go to the water park — provided you’re still allowed inside?”
“I’m going to kill her.”
I burst into the office.
“Jones!”
Where was she? I checked behind the door.
Nothing.
The closet.
Nothing.
Under the desk.
Nothing.
That’s when I noticed — the window was open.
I poked my head outside.
Jordyn was standing a safe distance away, a huge grin on her face. “Guess what? I got the job.”
“I can still fire you,” I said.
“Oh but I don’t think you will.”
“Try me.”
Jordyn winked and walked off, her voice trailing behind her. “Too bad, Ramirez. You’re stuck with me now.”
I watched her walk away, my forced frown losing a battle against an easy smile. There were worse things in life than being stuck with Jordyn Jones all summer. At least I’d be working with a friend. A friend who drove me crazy, but a friend nonetheless. Plus, I figured she’d look cute in her new uniform.
Wait, what?
I’d known Jordyn Jones forever. I thought of her as the girl who spent her entire childhood with scabby knees. The girl with juice stained sweaters and long blond pigtails who dominated on the monkey bars at recess. The girl with a habit of tapping her foot incessantly when she was bored in class. The girl who loved food so much she could beat Chase and I in any eating competition.
But the girl who was cute? No way.
Not Jordyn.
She was my buddy.
My childhood pal.
Another sister to me.
...Right?
14
Jordyn
The booth wheezed as I sat. It was a sleepy Monday afternoon, my first shift at Beachbreak, and the restaurant was empty. Dylan told me Mondays were usually the slowest, then things picked up as the week went on. Perfect for training.
I placed a stack of flashcards on the table and opened a menu. It was my job to know what we were serving inside and out. I needed to know what ingredients were in any recipe, what substitutions were possible, and how everything was cooked. I needed to know what could and couldn’t be made gluten-free and what our best vegetarian options were.
This morning, Sofia had taught me Beachbreak’s process for taking orders. It was as straight-forward as I imagined it would be, and within a half-hour, I had most of the internal systems figured out. Turned out Jordyn Jones could learn how to do basic customer service work even without a year of experience. Take that, Everending Toys.
A bell chimed as the door opened, and i
n walked the two people I wanted to see least in the world: my parents. They wore golf slacks and held hands.
Gross.
Dad cleared his throat and smiled at me. “Are you going to take our order, or what?”
“I’m studying,” I said. “Sofia can help you.”
“We don’t want Sofia’s help,” Dad said. “We’re here to support you.”
Ah yes. Support by interruption and obligation. Just what you want from your parents. There was no point in arguing — any argument would take longer to get through than it would to just shut up and take their order. Besides, they’d spent their entire lives oblivious to the needs of their children, it’s not like they would start paying attention now.
I made my way behind the till and put on my best customer service smile. “Welcome to Beachbreak Burgers, how may I help you?”
Mom appraised my outfit. “It is so nice to know that you can clean yourself up when you want to. And don’t you feel better being all squeaky clean?”
I kept my stupid smile plastered on my face. That was mom in a nutshell — if you tried to improve yourself, she’d give you an insult in the form of a compliment. It’s like she wanted me to become a better person, but she also wanted me to be slightly insecure about being a better person.
“We’ll take two burgers, river style, fries on the side of one. And two chocolate shakes.” Dad handed me his credit card.
I processed the transaction, told them to take a seat, then brought the order slip to Luis and Dylan, who were prepping food in the kitchen.
“It’s for my parents,” I said. “So, fair warning — if it’s not cooked perfectly, my mom WILL ask to see the manager.”
Luis laughed. “Lucky for you, I’m the greatest cook alive.”
Dylan rolled his eyes. “Come on, Jones, I’ll help you with the shakes.”
I grabbed a steel cup, put it beneath the ice cream machine, and pulled the lever. My parents were the only customers in Beachbreak at the moment, and, as usual, they were having a ‘conversation’ that was really an argument. At least in public they had the decency to whisper instead of yell and shout.
