100 Days of Cake
Page 23
“Alex!” I hop off Old Montee.
Then things return to awkward when we shuffle around trying to determine the appropriate gesture of greeting. Handshake? Cheek kiss? Fist bump? We settle on this limited-touching back-pat thing.
“FishTopia is sleeping with the fishes.” I gesture toward the diner, which does seem pretty fun. Through the window there are red-and-yellow-stripped booths and a long counter with a row of those bar stools on silver poles like in Norman Rockwell paintings. It’s the middle of the day, but the place is already crowded. What do you know, central Florida really was clamoring for chicken-fried steak.
“The end of an era,” Alex says. “Good times.”
“Yeah, I’ve really gotten behind on my Golden Girls. I don’t think I’ve seen the one where Blanche gets jealous of Dorothy’s lounge singing in at least three weeks.”
“I really do miss this place.” Bowing his head, Alex gets this weird sheepish expression. “Actually, do you remember that redheaded woman with the two kids, who came in that last week?”
“Sure.”
“Well, ever since she made that comment about marine biology, I can’t stop thinking about it.”
“Really?”
“Crazy, right?” he says. “Don’t laugh, but I’ve been looking into schools and everything. The University of Tampa has a really good program, and I could still minor in music, so I could still piss off my dad at least a little.”
“That is so cool!” I say, and mean it. For once I’m not freaked out about senior year and college and stuff. Dr. Frankel and I just spent part of our session talking about how I might start looking into colleges or internships for graphic design.
“And to think,” Alex says, “I only took the job because it paid more than Walmart.”
We talk a little about Elle and Mark and how they’re practically ready to move in together after just a few weeks. Alex assures me that Mark is a great guy as long as you don’t buy a plastic bottle of soda around him. “Take it from someone who’s made that mistake on more than one occasion.”
He asks about V. “Chris said she was grounded for life.”
“No, just till her seventy-fifth birthday. Otherwise she’s good. We’re actually getting along petty well—that whole listening to each other thing.”
“Yeah, that.” He laughs. “I’m really glad.”
“Oh, do you know whatever happened to JoJo?” I ask. “The diner people said they offered her a job, but she turned them down.”
“You didn’t hear?” Alex is super-excited. I shake my head. “She sent an audition tape to Wheel of Fortune, and they loved her. She’s going out to Cali to film her episode next week!”
“Way to go, JoJo!”
“I know, right?”
Then I remember that Mr. K. wanted to hire Alex as well, and I was supposed to let him know about the job, so I do. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier.”
Of all the crappy things I’ve done to Alex, this is what I’m apologizing for? The thing that legitimately borders on “not really my problem”?
“Actually, I’m sorry for a whole lot of things,” I add.
“Me too, Molly.” He nods. “Me too.”
It seems sort of important, like we’re both covering a lot of ground with these words.
After a while he asks, “School start for you guys on Monday too?”
“Yeah, back to the grind, bleah.” But I’m not dreading it quite so much. V and I have that art class, and I signed up for driver’s ed. Also, I’m weirdly excited about the final day of cake and Mom and V’s sewing thing. I’ve been helping out a little with the “Posh Pelts.” (It’s a working title. We’re also considering “Plush Pelts,” “Cutie Kills,” and “Haute Hunters.”) We’ve decided that if anyone ever buys one, we should put a chunk of the money away in some sort of Jimmy college fund, even though he’d probably think that was weird.
“Well, it was really great seeing you, Molly.” Alex pats my arm and reaches into the front pocket of his jeans for his keys. “Hopefully we’ll run in to each other again before Elle and Mark’s wedding.”
I can’t just let him go again, without trying.
All those times that he put himself out there to ask me out; all those times I played dumb or brushed him off because I was scared. But like Elle says, he already knows I don’t shit rainbows.
I guess this is my turn.
Taking a here-goes-nothing breath, I step in front of him before he can get back into the car. Confused, Alex cocks his head.
“So, you know how once upon a time you wanted us to go out for dinner, on a proper date-date?” I ask hopefully. “Well, if you’re still interested, there’s this new restaurant in town that has a killer chef named Mrs. K. It just opened, and I’m dying to try it.”
“I don’t believe you.” Alex shakes his head incredulously in a way that’s hard to read. Optimistically, it might be a head shake of amusement, but it could very well be one of exasperation and/or disgust because I’m the world’s most frustrating cock tease. “After everything that happened, you’re asking me out on a date?”
“So I take it that’s a no?”
“I didn’t say that. I mean, I hear this place has the only chicken and waffles in all of Coral Cove.”
I laugh, and he reaches for my hand—those calluses on the pads of his fingers—and for the first time, I don’t pull away. Instead I squeeze back and smile. My guts are fluttery and twisty, but not in the spiral way, just in an excited, who-knows kind of way.
Maybe this will be the single greatest thing that ever happens to me, or maybe it will implode and suck worse than what happened with T.J. I guess sometimes you have to just take chances—send a shuttle out as far as you can, even if it means you might find out that Pluto isn’t a planet. Maybe you’ll find something else great.
“And if you’re still hungry after,” I tell him. “I know a great place we can go for cake.”
Acknowledgments
Jessica Sit, this book is really just as much your baby as it is mine. Thanks for tirelessly working with me to make it a reality.
A hearty thanks to Alex Glass for wheeling and dealing for me all these years. I’d also like to give a shout-out to Andrea Mason for legal advice; Terri Goveia for an early read; and Eric Hollander for agreeing to go in to the office early for weeks.
Thank you, as always, to my family. Nancy and Bob Wall, who provided crucial childcare and Cherry Coke Zeroes. Nancy and Michael Goldhagen, for always offering support and encouragement and forgiving me repeatedly for deadline-induced bitchiness. And of course to my Bobwall and Victoria—my greatest distractions and my absolute everything.
Author photograph courtesy of Anthony Rhoades
Shari Goldhagen’s favorite cake is red velvet with cream cheese frosting, but carrot cake is a close second. The author of the adult novels Family and Other Accidents and In Some Other World, Maybe, Shari lives with her husband and daughter in Manhattan. 100 Days of Cake is her young adult debut. You can visit her at sharigoldhagen.com or tweet her at @sharigoldhagen.
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Goldhagen, Shari, 1976– author.
Title: 100 days of cake / Shari Goldhagen.
Other titles: One hundred days of cake
Description: First Edition. | New York : Atheneum Books for Young Readers, [2016] |
Summary: “Molly suffers from depression, and when she finds out that the exotic fish store she works at is closing down, her whole life, which is already hanging on a thread, starts to crumble”— Provided by publisher.
Identifiers: LCCN 2015033431 | ISBN 9781481448567 (hardcover) | ISBN 9781481448581 (eBook)
Subjects: | CYAC: Depression, Mental—Fiction.
Classification: LCC PZ7.1.G63 Aah 2016 | DDC [Fic]—dc23 LC record available at http://lccn.loc.gov/2015033431