Hot Dog Girl

by Jennifer Dugan

  “Sprite?” I ask, because we always, always share. But I can tell when she looks at me that something is off, like somehow the whole world shifted a bit when I wasn’t looking.

  “No.” She smirks. “Let’s have Fanta tonight.”

  I try to cover up my groan, clearing my throat as I turn back to the cashier. “Fanta it is,” I say, despite the fact it’s literally the only soda I can’t stand.

  “Hey, lovebirds,” a booming voice shouts from behind me. “What’s good?”

  “What’s good?” Seeley raises her eyebrows. “Really, Nick? No. You can’t pull that off. Please don’t ever say that again.”

  “Seeley,” I shriek, because he hasn’t even been here a full minute and she’s already ruining everything.

  “Nah, it’s cool.” Nick shoves his bleached hair out of his eyes. “I appreciate the honesty. If there’s one thing I know I can count on with Seeley, it’s that.”

  Seeley kinda sighs and glares at me, and okay, okay, I get it. “Where’s Jessa?” I ask sweet as can be, all the while hoping she suddenly found herself coming down with a bout of the plague or something.

  “She’s running late,” he says, looking down. “Had to do a last-minute rehearsal with Ari.”

  I peek at my phone. “Still? It’s like nine o’clock at night.”

  “It happens.”

  I take my popcorn from the counter and walk over to the saltshaker. “That’s a little weird.”

  “It’s fine,” he grumbles, but I can tell I’ve struck a nerve.

  “Hmm,” I say, with tiny butterflies forming in my stomach, because this is something I can work with. This could be the hint of gold at the end of my very long treasure hunt. I look at Seeley, but she rolls her eyes and looks away.

  “You guys are adorable,” Nick says, simultaneously mocking us and misinterpreting everything.

  I grab a wad of napkins and shove them in my pocket. “Should we find our seats?”

  Nick’s mouth twists up in a half smile. “I should probably wait for Jessa. She’ll be here in about ten minutes.”

  “Can’t she text you when she gets here?” I ask. “I mean it’s not like this place is huge. She doesn’t need you to guide her inside or anything.”

  Seeley snickers behind me, and I stomp her foot to shut her up.

  “I guess,” he says, only it sounds more like a question than an answer.

  “Great.” I smile. “Let’s go, then.”

  * * *

  • • •

  The floor in theater two is sticky, but then again it always is. I’m pretty sure the last time anybody cleaned the floors here was sometime around 1955. Maybe. And probably just the once. The seats are hard, the fabric faded to various shades of red and pink, lighter on some than others, and you can sometimes even feel the coils inside them when you sit down.

  I don’t care. I love this place, warts and all.

  Seeley leads us to her favorite seat, just slightly left of center in the eleventh row. It’s the seat she’s been sitting in since we were kids. It’s where we saw Captain America for the first time, where we sit for The Rocky Horror Picture Show every Halloween, and where we’ve watched every movie in between. This is where the magic always happens for us, and hopefully where it will happen again.

  She takes her seat first and I drop down beside her, which leaves Nick kind of awkwardly standing in the middle of the aisle. He glances back at the door, a faint frown pulling at his lips before he sits next to me.

  I shove my popcorn in his face and accidentally spill some in his lap. “Popcorn?”

  “Uh, no, I’m good.” He pushes the bag away. “I hate popcorn.”

  Seeley leans across my lap and pulls the bag from my hand, shoving handfuls of popcorn into her mouth and chewing loudly. I look at her and sigh, wishing I could drag her outside and freak out on her in a not-so-obvious way. I twist back toward Nick, pointedly ignoring her and her ridiculousness.

  “What’s it like diving on the school team? Is that really different from doing it at Magic Castle?” And I feel ridiculous, because oh my god yes, Elouise, I’m sure diving competitively is a little bit different than dressing like a pirate and jumping into a pool.

  He scratches the side of his nose. “Pretty different.”

  “I figured,” I say, trying to backtrack.

  “What’d you do to your chin?” he asks, gesturing to my face.

  “I fell out of a tree.”

  He squints his eyes. “You fell out of a tree?”

  “It’s a really long story. Can we not?” I’m already bright red and embarrassed and we’re barely five minutes in. This is going so swell.

  “She was trying to be all Romeo and Juliet and scale a tree to my window. It was super romantic,” Seeley says. I kind of sit there stunned because she’s being nice again, and I did not see that coming at all.

  “That is fucking adorable.” Nick laughs and looks down at his phone. “Oh shit, Jessa texted me a few minutes ago that she was parking, I gotta go grab her.” He shoots out of his seat and doesn’t look back. He reappears a few minutes later, his beloved princess in tow.

  They slide up the aisle in unison, with their own popcorn and soda now, and it’s like she’s the planet and he’s her moon. Gross. Jessa plops into the seat next to me, all full of eager greetings and too-tight hugs. I can’t help but be disappointed; so much for leaning my arm against his when the lights go down.

  Jessa offers him popcorn, and I smirk. How do I know something she doesn’t? Nick grimaces but takes it, dutifully shoving a bunch in his mouth. Wait, what?

  “I thought you hated popcorn?” I ask, the words tumbling out of me before I can swallow them.

  Jessa cranes her neck, looking quickly from his face to mine. “Nick doesn’t hate popcorn.” She laughs. “He’ll eat anything. Which is perfect, because if my mom finds out I even ordered this, she’ll kill me.” She scrunches up her face. “Two handfuls for me, and the rest is his.”

  I look back at Seeley like Did you just hear this? but she’s leaning back in her seat with her eyes shut. I can’t tell if she’s sleeping or just trying to meditate her way out of here. Either way, I’m not messing with it.

  “How was your rehearsal with Ari?” I ask, but then Nick kind of stares at his shoe, biting his lip, and I feel guilty.

  “Oh, it was the best. He learned this kind of old-timey waltz, and he couldn’t wait to show it to me. We’re going to waltz through the park a few times a day now. It’ll be so much fun.”

  “Awww, that sounds great.” Which is true, it kind of does, but mostly I just want to encourage her to continue flirting with Ari as much as humanly possible. I mean, I don’t know for sure that she’s actually flirting with Ari or anything, but Nick seems to think she is, which is close enough.

  “Ari is the best! He takes this very seriously.” She grins. “I couldn’t ask for a better partner, really.”

  Nick clears his throat, choking on a popcorn kernel until his face goes all red and watery.

  “Arms above your head.” Seeley cracks her eyes open wide enough to peek at him. “Can’t go dying on us. It’d be the worst double date ever.”

  Jessa turns toward him, whapping him on the back, but he brushes her off. “I’m fine,” he rasps when he catches his breath.

  “Did it go down the wrong pipe?” I ask and instantly regret it.

  Nick raises his eyebrows. “Yeah, Grandma, it went down the wrong pipe.”

  Jessa looks back at him with a confused look, and then turns back to me, mouthing the word “Cranky.”

  I shrug and smile at her, because keep your friends close and enemies closer and all. I’m just following protocol.

  “What animal are you again?” Jessa turns back toward me. “Are you the bunny this year?”

  “No.” Nick grabs another handf
ul of popcorn. “Elouise is the hot dog.”

  “Yep.” I sigh. “I don’t know why Mr. P keeps doing this to me.”

  “Well, bright side, I guess you won’t be the hot dog next year,” Jessa says. I can tell from her voice that she truly means it, that she really thinks there is a bright side to the park closing.

  I scowl. “I’d rather be the hot dog forever than have the place close.”

  “Oh,” she says, probably trying to figure out exactly where she went wrong. “It was a joke, sorry. A bad one, clearly.”

  Her apology sounds so sincere that I sort of feel like I should apologize back now, but she’s being so polite tonight that it would probably kick off this never-ending cycle of “No, I’m sorry” until we both run out of air. No thanks.

  I give her a half smile. “Magic Castle means a lot to me and Seeley. I’ve been trying to think of a way to get Mr. P to keep it open, but so far I got nothing.”

  “Yeah, I think it’s a done deal,” Jessa says. “It’s been on the news and everything.”

  “It was?”

  She nods and reaches for a single kernel of popcorn. “Yeah, they were doing all these man on the street interviews about it.”

  “What were people saying?” I lean forward in my seat, hope blooming in my chest. Maybe someone has an idea how to keep the park open.

  Jessa shrugs. “It was mostly people sharing memories from the park, nothing major.”

  I roll my eyes. Leave it to the adults to waste time reminiscing instead of taking action. I guess this is going to be up to me to fix after all.

  Jessa rests her chin on the palm of her hand. “Hey, how long have you and Seeley been together, anyway? I always thought you guys were just friends.” Thankfully, before I can embarrass myself any further or answer with another lie, the previews kick on.

  “A little while,” I whisper. I mean, it’s not a lie. It has been a little while. An extremely tiny little while. Like a twenty-two-very-fake-minutes kind of little while.

  I slouch back in my seat, flicking my eyes over in time to see Nick drape his arm around Jessa and give her a kiss. They didn’t even make it to the second trailer. This is going to be one long-ass movie. Seeley slides over next to me, dropping her head on my shoulder. It’s heavy and warm, and keeps me from totally flipping out.

  * * *

  • • •

  When the movie is over and we’re shut back safely in my car, halfway back to her house, I thank her for being so cool about everything. She hesitates before answering, fumbling with the dials on my old radio until she finds a song she likes.

  “You’re welcome,” she says, but her voice comes out a little quiet.

  “We’re good, right?” I ask. We’re parked outside her house, her fingers already tapping on the door handle of my car.

  “Yeah, Lou,” she says, letting the door bang shut behind her. “We’re fine.”

  CHAPTER 15

  One of the coolest parts of my job is reuniting lost kids with their parents. It doesn’t happen too often or anything, but when it does, I feel like a superhero—which is why I’m not totally annoyed to be crouched down beside this very concerned little kid, doing little dances and wiggles to make him laugh while park security finds his parent.

  “Why are you a hot dog?” he asks, when he stops crying long enough to catch his breath. And I don’t know how to answer that. I want to say something wise and clever, like “Some people choose hot dogs, but some have hot dogs thrust upon them,” but all I get out is “Um” before his dad comes rushing up to us and wraps the boy in a big hug.

  I start to walk away—I’ve seen this half mushy/half you’re-in-big-trouble thing play out dozens of times before—but I barely make it ten steps before the little boy is wrapped around my legs with a big smile.

  “Thanks, hot dog,” he says, running back to his dad. I give them both a little wave and walk back to the breakroom grinning. Not a bad way to start the day.

  * * *

  • • •

  I don’t see Seeley until lunchtime. It’s not really a big deal, it’s just that she had a dentist appointment this morning, so she came in late with her mom’s car. But still, things feel a little weird between us, even though she says they aren’t, and I hate it.

  She slides into the seat next to me, her tray overflowing with fries. “Hey.”

  “Hey, yourself.” I snatch up a fry before she can stop me and shove it into my mouth.

  “Did I miss anything this morning?”

  “Only the sight of me dressed like a giant hot dog.” I sigh.

  “I do love that sight.” She laughs, and I can’t help but smirk as I grab another fry.

  Wait. Hang on.

  Seeley is a ketchup douser. She literally smothers her fries in it and waits for them to get all cold and soggy before she eats them—like to the point where she says she’s marinating them if anybody teases her about it. But these are different. These are warm and crisp and greasy, and have a tiny cup of ketchup sitting beside them, not even touching. These aren’t for her—these are for me.

  “Thanks.” I pop another fry in my mouth, smiling so wide my cheeks hurt.

  “Sorry I’ve been kind of a jerk lately.”

  “It’s fine. Last night was kind of weird all around.”

  “Agreed.” She grabs the little cup of ketchup off her tray and completely upends it over the fry in her hand. “So we’re good?” she asks, echoing my words from yesterday.

  “Yeah, we’re great.”

  She nods, and takes another bite.

  I tap my fingers on the table. “So, I was thinking—”

  Seeley sighs. “Maybe you could take a couple days off from scheming. Consider it a mini break to rest your brain.”

  “Ha-ha, you’re so funny,” I say. “This isn’t about us. This is about the park.”

  “Oh god.” Seeley drops her head back. “What now?”

  “I think we should come up with a plan to save it. There has to be a way to convince Mr. P to keep it open.”

  “You can’t guilt the poor guy into staying open, Elouise. That’s not how it works.”

  “It works on my dad sometimes.” I shrug and lean back in my seat.

  “It works on your dad for little stuff. It wouldn’t work on your dad if you were asking him to keep an entire amusement park open for your benefit.”

  “It’s not just for my benefit, though. Think about all the people who work here. Think about us! Where are we even supposed to find new jobs around here?”

  “Okay, that’s actually a good point,” Seeley says.

  I tap my thumb against the table. “What if we got everybody involved. Like started a movement or something.”

  “A movement?”

  “Yeah, a movement, like a community movement, like save our parks or whatever. Jessa did say they were talking about it on the news.”

  “I think that slogan only relates to wildlife parks and stuff, Lou. I don’t think it’d work for getting people to rally around an eyesore like Magic Castle.”

  “Don’t talk about our baby like that.” I frown. “But listen, we’ll make a big announcement, get people to rally, and then Mr. P will have no choice but to stay open.”

  Seeley raises an eyebrow as she bites into her oversized burger. “Do you really think anybody will care?”

  “I’m positive.” I take another bite of my fries, pausing for effect. “We’ll start a petition, get one of those online fund-raisers, host a gala.”

  “A gala?” Seeley snorts.

  “My dad gets invited to galas like every few months to support whatever random charity he’s doing the books for. I bet they raise a ton of money.”

  “We’re in no way equipped to put on a gala, Lou. Are you even listening to yourself?”

  I sigh. “Okay, fine. Just the pe
tition, then, and some fund-raisers.”

  “How are we even going to do that much by ourselves?”

  “We’ll get people to help us.”

  Seeley narrows her eyes. “People like who?”

  “I don’t know, the people from the news. And like, Nick, maybe.”

  Seeley groans.

  “Hey, he loves the park too.”

  “Right.” Seeley shakes her head. “I’m so sure that’s why you want him to help.”

  “Maybe other reasons.”

  “Hopeless,” she says, grabbing another fry. “You are hopeless.”

  CHAPTER 16

  I’m curled up in the chair at my desk, basking in the glow of my laptop. My notebook rests beneath my hand, and I scribble little doodles of hearts and spirals with my pen while I google the crap out of “ways to save amusement parks” and “how to influence people.” I figure one or the other should lead me to a solution for this conundrum, but they don’t really.

  All I get is more articles talking about how people are going to miss it when it’s gone, and a few articles talking about the businesses already vying for the land. Which, come on, at least wait for the body to cool, you know?

  I stare down at my list and frown at the ratio of doodles to actual ideas. The doodles are winning by a landslide. So far I have: set up a GoFundMe, go to the news, get a petition going, and ???. Of course, I have literally zero idea how to bring any of those to fruition. Thus, the frantic googling.

  My dad knocks on the door and pushes it open, frowning slightly as he looks around. “No Seeley tonight?” His eyes linger on the pile of laundry in the corner, like if he stares long enough, she might pop out of it and say hello or something.

  “Nah, she had some family stuff to do. Grandma Bobby isn’t doing well.”

  “Aww,” he says. “Bobby’s having a rough go of things lately. I hope she pulls through.” He sounds almost as sad about it as I am.