by Shana Norris
I cleared my throat a little too loudly and Elliott and Tara both looked my way.
“Well, if it isn’t Avery James, resident hot dog,” Elliott said, giving me that stupid grin of his, casually tipping his hot dog hat farther back on his head, so it covered his neatly cut sandy-brown hair. “Doing all right over there?”
“Fine,” I said. “And you?” I looked pointedly at him, then Tara, and then him again.
“Great.” Elliott grinned wider and then went back to preparing hot dogs.
I glared at Elliott’s back. If I wasn’t so concerned with being on my best behavior before I talked to Mr. Throckmorton, I might have been tempted to “accidentally” squirt Elliott with a bottle of ketchup. But that would definitely blow my chance for a raise.
“Better get back out there, Avery,” Elliott told me. “Your boyfriend is waiting.” He nodded toward the crumpled costume on the floor.
Tara laughed, and her long rhinestone earrings swung wildly as she shook her head at Elliott and told him to focus on the hot dogs he was cooking.
Think about the money, I reminded myself. One thousand sixty- four dollars and thirteen cents and only four weeks left to go.
If it weren’t for the money, I would never put up with this job. But Diggity Dog House was the best paying gig in town, along with being the most embarrassing. Mr. Throckmorton had to pay us more than the other restaurants to get employees to make idiots of themselves on a daily basis.
So I publicly humiliated myself once again, sliding the costume over my head and bracing myself for a few more hours as a giant hot dog. I had to do it for the money. My stomach churned as I thought about my plan to speak with Mr. Throckmorton before I left that night. As long as I did everything Bob was supposed to do, there was no way he could turn me down. The next couple of hours outside passed slowly as I recited the speech I’d prepared in my head, and then once the sun had set, I wandered around the dining room and greeted people while they ate. Frankly, I’d be a little annoyed by a six-foot wiener interrupting me while I ate my dinner, but the customers at Diggity Dog House loved Bob. Mrs. Schneider, a Monday night regular at Diggity Dog House (Diggity Dog Loaded Special, extra onions), called me over, insisting that I pose with her so she could send the photo to her granddaughter.
After a few more rounds, it was finally ten o’clock, and Mr. Throckmorton had literally pushed the last customer out the door. He had a strict closing time policy because he liked to be at home in his pajamas and watching reruns of The Facts of Life at exactly eleven.
I peeled the foam hot dog from my sweat-soaked skin and folded it down as best I could.
The money, I reminded myself again as I wiped my forehead with a wad of napkins. I needed the money.
I followed Mr. Throckmorton back to his office, bumping the door open with my hip since my arms were full of crushed foam. He jumped a little when he turned around.
“James, what did I tell you about sneaking up behind me?”
“Sorry, Mr. Throckmorton,” I said, twisting my hands together. My eyes darted around his office. Just days ago, towers of boxes and paper had leaned precariously throughout the room, mixed in among various signs, a few old takeout bags, and a couple of sweat-stained shirts tossed into one corner. But as part of my plan to win Mr. Throckmorton’s approval and get a raise, I had spent a whole afternoon cleaning and organizing everything. I even made labels for all of his boxes and file cabinet drawers, so he would know exactly where to put everything. Taking in a deep breath of courage, I started the pitch I had spent hours rehearsing. “Mr. Throckmorton, I wanted to talk to you about a possible raise—”
Mr. Throckmorton held up one hand. “Stop right there. You know I can’t give you any more money. Your yearly evaluation isn’t until July.”
July would be too late. I didn’t plan to be stuck at Diggity Dog House come July.
“I know, but I thought maybe I could get an advanced raise?” I said, trying to sound as sweet as possible, before continuing, “I’ve done extra work around here lately. I reorganized the condiments in the storage room, so now you can easily see how much we have left of each one. I even chipped all the chewed gum off the underside of the tables last week.” I fought back a shudder at the memory of old chewed gum raining onto my head as I scraped it off the tables. “And I organized your office and the walk-in freezer, and even arranged the packages of hot dogs according to their expiration dates!”
“I appreciate the extra work, James, but it doesn’t work that way.” Mr. Throckmorton shuffled through some papers on his desk. He studied one for a moment, then tossed it toward a pile to his left. The paper flipped a few times through the air before fluttering to the floor. “It wouldn’t be fair to the other employees.”
I could feel my stomach sinking from disappointment, and I forced myself not to look at my boss’s inadequate filing system, trying to shut up the voice in my head that screamed, “FILE CABINET! For the love of argyle socks, use the freaking file cabinet!” I knew it wouldn’t be long before new piles of papers all over the office erased my hard work.
“Then could I get some more hours each week? I’ll do anything.” I clutched the hot dog costume tightly to my chest, holding my breath as I crossed my fingers.
He shook his head. “Sorry, James. I’m working you as many hours as I’m legally allowed already. I have nothing else to offer you.”
I suppressed a frustrated sigh and forced myself to smile. “Thanks anyway, Mr. Throckmorton,” I said as I turned to walk out of his office, refusing to cry.
But no matter how much I tried, tears stung my eyes as disappointment settled over me. Distal phalanges. Intermediate phalanges. Proximal phalanges. Metacarpals. Carpals. I recited in my head as I deposited Bob in the storage closet and walked outside through the humid night air toward my car.
My best friend, Molly Pinski, told me it was a weird habit, but I knew focusing on the names of the bones was better than admitting that everything was falling apart.
The only cars still in the parking lot were my small Honda and Mr. Throckmorton’s huge Caddy. I jabbed my finger at the unlock button, but it took a few presses before the doors would unlock. The lock had been acting up more often lately, just one more thing that was going wrong in my life. I had started driving the car a year ago, but no matter how much stain remover I used, there was no hiding that it was almost ten years old.
My dad had talked about selling the car after my mother left, but he had never gone through with it. I think we both knew the car was the last piece of my mom left with us, and maybe we weren’t quite ready to give that up yet. When I got my license, he’d helped me replace the battery and get a new license plate in my name, but the memories of the trips to the library or the grocery store in that car with my mom still remained.
My phone buzzed in my pocket and I pulled it out. A text message from Molly. I pressed the button and read the words as an icy chill raced down my spine.
BIG news. Elliott asked me out!!!
I leaned against my car, my entire body numb. The phone hung limply in my hand, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the brightly lit screen. I knew Molly and Elliott had been flirting recently, but Elliott flirted with everyone. I had been sure it was going to fizzle out, just a meaningless crush, nothing to worry about. Why couldn’t she see that Elliott was definitely not her type and move on to someone less repulsive?
I couldn’t take this. Not tonight. I turned my phone off and stuffed it back in my pocket.
As I slammed the car door, the glove compartment fell open and brightly colored brochures tumbled out.
“Spend the summer in Costa Rica!” the bold orange letters on the front proclaimed.
I’d read the brochures so many times they were coming apart at the folded edges. It wasn’t a vacation, it was a three-week stay on the outskirts of San José, volunteering with doctors and humanitarian workers. It was the experience of a lifetime, and my guidance counselor, Ms. Vega, had promised it would look
great on my college applications and give me a head start on my future career in medicine.
It was also four thousand dollars.
After a year of working part time at Diggity Dog House and hours of babysitting, I had almost three thousand dollars saved up. But I still had a long way to go, and with only four weeks until the money was due and Mr. Throckmorton’s refusal to give me a raise, I wasn’t feeling confident that I’d get to Costa Rica this summer.
But it had to be this summer, before my senior year. After college, it would be too late. I would have too many responsibilities to think about, and Dad and my brother Ian needed me around the house to take care of them. I had already decided to apply at the local university next year rather than consider colleges far from home, so I could stay close while I attended classes. They would never have to worry about a thing.
It had to be this summer.
The little voice in my head knew I was lying. I could have chosen a similar program much closer to home, but I’d picked this one specifically because it took place in Costa Rica. There was a huge world out there, but I only cared about Costa Rica.
If I closed my eyes, sometimes I could picture my mom sitting on the edge of my bed, telling me stories about all these far off places she wanted to see. While Hannah Cohen’s designer-dressed mother dreamed of strolling past the Eiffel Tower or drifting down the waterways of Venice, my mom had wanted to get lost in jungles, forests, and mountains. She wanted to hide from the whole world.
But I had never imagined she wanted to hide from us as well.
The urge that made my mom want to see the world lived deep inside me too. I dreamed about traveling and experiencing life outside Willowbrook, but I knew it could only ever be a fantasy. I couldn’t leave Dad and Ian like my mom had. I wouldn’t. I had to go to Costa Rica this summer and get the urge to travel out of my system. And then I would come back, and I’d take care of Dad and Ian.
I still hadn’t told my dad about my plans yet, because I was afraid he’d say no. I figured once I had enough money for the trip, there wouldn’t be any way he could refuse. But now that I didn’t have the money for the trip, it didn’t even matter. Begging Mr. Throckmorton for another raise had been my last hope for extra money from my regular job.
I picked up the brochures from the floorboard and stuffed them back into the glove compartment. The door fell open three times before it finally closed. My car groaned as I turned the key in the ignition, and I held my breath, hoping it wouldn’t decide to leave me stranded tonight. I just wanted to go home, so I could forget that tonight had ever happened and wake up in the morning with a new plan to earn the money I needed. I would make it to Costa Rica, no matter what it took. And then I would come back and take care of Ian and my father, the way my mom never could.
Chapter Two
I jumped back just in time to keep myself from running face-first into an open locker door Tuesday morning at school. My eyes burned and I blinked quickly, shaking my head to clear away the exhaustion, while a girl from my calculus class stared at me, as if I were crazy. Maybe I was. After a restless night of trying to think of new ideas to earn the rest of the money I needed for Costa Rica, all I wanted was a long nap.
“Avery!” someone shrieked, and I cringed involuntarily as Molly bounced up to my side.
“It’s way too early to be that peppy,” I told her.
“We need to talk.” Molly dug her dark-blue glittery nails into my arm as she dragged me toward the girls’ bathroom, pushing past the crowd milling through the hallway before the first bell.
Inside the bathroom, Molly turned to me with a wide smile. Even the greenish glow cast by the fluorescent lights couldn’t hide the excitement written on her face.
“Did you get my text last night?”
I shook my head, even though I had read her text, and it had left me worried sick. “No? My phone has been acting weird lately. Maybe it’s something about the service or—”
But Molly didn’t wait for me to finish, cutting me off to announce, “Elliott Reiser asked me out!”
“He did?” I said, trying to pretend that this was news to me. “And you’re going to go out with him?” I asked, staring at her wide blue eyes in the bathroom mirror.
Molly rolled her eyes a little. “I know you don’t like him, but he’s not the bad guy you think he is. He’s really cute and he loves video games just as much as I do. And he gets all of my jokes. Trust me, it is not easy to find a guy who gets me.”
Molly didn’t know half of it. Elliott was anything but perfect for her. I wrinkled my nose. “You don’t even really know Elliott. He’s so self-absorbed.”
“We’re all self-absorbed, Avery,” Molly said. “It’s called being sixteen.”
I thought about the way Elliott was always following Tara around at work. My gut told me there was something going on between them, but Molly looked so happy and excited as she bounced across the cracked tile floor, that I didn’t want to spoil it. I wanted my best friend to be happy, I really did, but I wanted her to be careful, too.
“What about the fact that Elliott cheated on Lila Mahoney?” I asked carefully. “Do you really want to go out with a guy like that?”
Molly squeezed my arm. “That was in the ninth grade. I think Elliott may have grown up in the last two years.”
“Don’t count on it,” I muttered under my breath.
“If you gave Elliott a chance, I’m sure you’d like him.”
I pressed my lips together, gritting my teeth. Molly didn’t know that Elliott and I had been friends once. I’d made it my mission to ensure she never found out what happened almost four years ago.
During that summer, going into eighth grade, I’d lost two of my best friends and my mom. If I hadn’t met Molly that fall, back when she was the new girl and I was the girl who had been abandoned by her mom, I wouldn’t have had any friends. Ever since Molly had spotted a Hallow Flux sticker on my notebook and gushed about how she had all of the indie band’s songs on her iPod, we had been a team against the rest of the world.
“Elliott is not entirely the bad guy you’re making him out to be,” Molly continued. She grabbed a paper towel from the dispenser and wet one corner to wipe at a mascara smudge under her eye.
Oh, yes, he was. But of course, I couldn’t bring that summer up as my reason for hating Elliott for the rest of eternity, so I had to rely on other wrongs he’d done.
“What about when he tripped me in gym class?”
Molly raised one eyebrow. “You’re not taking gym this year. How could he have tripped you?”
I flailed my arms. “In eighth grade! He tripped me in front of the boys’ and girls’ classes.”
“Tell me you are not bringing up something that happened three years ago.”
“My knee was bruised for two weeks,” I said.
“Okay,” Molly said slowly, a mischievous gleam in her eye, “since we’re talking about ancient history, what about the egg incident?”
I busied myself with washing my hands, pumping too much of the goopy, pink soap from the cracked dispenser into my palm. I couldn’t believe Elliott had told her about the egg incident.
“Do I need to jog your memory?” Molly asked. “Third grade field day. Egg in a spoon race. You cracked your egg over Elliott’s head when he beat you.”
I lathered my hands until bubbles dripped in the sink and said, “I do not recall such an incident.”
Molly tilted her head to the side, letting her pink and blond bangs fall over one eye. “Sure, you don’t. Elliott told me all about it.”
“That was a long time ago,” I grumbled.
“So were all of the things you brought up in your case against Elliott.”
I rinsed my hands and then dried them with a handful of paper towels. “His cheating on Lila was only two years ago. How do you know he won’t do it again?”
Molly frowned as she looked at her reflection in the spotty mirror again. “I don’t. But you know what? I really li
ke Elliott, and I think maybe he likes me, too. Sometimes you have to take a chance to see if it’s meant to be.”
“And sometimes you take a chance and things still don’t work out,” I insisted, my cheeks burning as I remembered last night’s failed request for a raise. Time was ticking away and I was almost out of options.
Molly shot me an irritated look as she fixed her hair in the mirror. “What’s wrong with you this morning? You’re all doom and gloom. More than usual.”
“Nothing,” I said, trying to avoid her eyes.
“Uh-huh.” Molly crossed her arms and gave me a look that said she totally didn’t believe me.
I turned away and started fixing my frizzy, tangled red hair in the mirror, wishing it were less obvious that I’d gotten so little sleep last night.
“I haven’t said yes to him yet, by the way,” Molly said.
“Good,” I told her.
“But I probably will. Unless you can give me a valid reason to say no.”
I looked away, picking at a piece of lint on the front of my purple Hallow Flux T-shirt. I knew I couldn’t tell her the real reason I hated Elliott, so I tried to change the subject. “I need to find a few odd jobs to earn some extra money.”
“Is your car acting up again?” Molly asked.
I hadn’t even told Molly about the trip to Costa Rica yet. “Yes,” I said. That was partly true. “And my dad needs some help with the bills this month. What about your cousin? Would she let me watch the baby again?” I didn’t enjoy wiping baby butts, but I was desperate.
“Not unless you want to drive to Georgia,” Molly said as she smeared on her favorite watermelon-flavored lip gloss until her lips matched the pink stripes mixed into her blonde hair. “My cousin’s husband got that job in Atlanta, remember?”
“I’m worried that even after everything I’ve done, I won’t earn enough,” I said, frowning at my reflection. This program was the chance of a lifetime. If I didn’t go this summer, would I ever have the opportunity?