Famous in a Small Town(3)



“Yup, sounds good.”

“Awesome, see you then!”

They headed inside. August grabbed the door for Kyle and Harper and glanced back at me as they passed. There wasn’t enough time for me to make another funny face or to smile devastatingly—not enough time to decide between the two, if I was even capable of the latter—so we just sort of looked at each other for a second.

And then he was gone.

Brit came back out clutching a brown paper bag a few minutes later. “I’m not sharing,” she said, while simultaneously extending the bag toward me.

I reached in and grabbed a handful. “Did you see Kyle in there?”

“Uh-huh.”

“I didn’t know he had a brother.”

Brit shoved a few fries in her mouth and chewed unceremoniously. “Yeah, neither did he, apparently.”

“What do you mean?”

She shrugged. “Just something I heard.” She wiped her hands on her shorts. “So it’s Friday. What do you think? Should we go to Tropicana? Gutter balls and matching shoes?” She sang the last part, which was customary. It was a line from the one and only song ever written about our hometown. “Gave You My Heartland” by Megan Pleasant outlined a series of activities in Acadia day by day—Mondays at Miller’s for beers, Tuesday by the lake, so on and so forth. Fridays were bowling, and although I did love the Tropicana— “It’s actually Saturday.”

“Fuck, really?”

I nodded.

“Guess that’s why I got fired,” Brit said, and grinned, not nearly as sheepish as she should have been.





two


Ciara:

You know, no one here understands the Yum Yum Shoppe

People are like, if your town had a McDonald’s why didn’t you just go there??

Mcflurry blah blah blah

Vanilla cone blah

I feel like you can’t comprehend the Yum Yum Shoppe until you have experienced the Yum Yum Shoppe

Its tacky wooden decorations

The window display

Mean Kim the manager

Sophie:

The weird sodas

Ciara:

YES

Do you want Dr Pepper? You’re out of luck TRY SOUR CREAM AND ONION SARSPARILLA INSTEAD

Sophie:

Don’t forget the 14 flavors of ice cream

Ciara:

Oh the 14 flavors

How could I?

They were so carefully curated

So hotly debated around town

Sophie:

We have to go when you’re back from school

Dad can do that thing where he considers every

flavor and then orders vanilla

Ciara:

“It’s a CLASSIC, you can’t DENY a CLASSIC”

WELL THEN MAYBE START BY NOT DENYING THE CLASSIC, DAD

MAYBE SAVE US THE DELIBERATION

Sophie:

If you could pick a 15th flavor for the list, what

would it be?

Ciara:

Something really niche

Like chewed up gum

Sophie:

Mothball

Ciara:

Old hat

Sophie:

Would new hat taste better than old hat?

Ciara:

No old hat tastes better

Like felt and history

Sophie:

What if the flavor wasn’t a flavor at all?

What if it was a feeling?

Ciara:

Ooh okay. Like the feeling when you’re little and you start a brand new box of crayons

Sophie:

Night before Christmas excitement

Ciara:

Ineffable sadness

Sophie:

Lolololol

Ciara:

COME TO THE YUM YUM SHOPPE FOR EVERYONE’S FAVORITE SEASONAL FLAVOR: INEFFABLE SADNESS

Sophie:

It pairs great with old hat

“Ready?”

“Hm?” I looked up from my phone, closing out of the text thread with my sister.

Terrance Cunningham stood before me, backpack on. “I said, are you ready? For. All. Of. This.” He punctuated each word with a robot move, adding a flourish at the end, and a weird hip gyration.

“I’m ready for about half of that.”

“Seventy-five percent.”

“Sixty-three.”

“Eighty or I walk.”

“We’re walking anyway,” I said, pushing up off the front stoop. “And you’re bargaining in the wrong direction.”

“Always bargain up. It’s a good tactic. Throws people off.”

Although school was technically over for the year, Terrance and I had one final bit of business to attend to—the last booster club meeting before the marching band’s hiatus in June. We would reconvene the last week of June to practice for the July Fourth parade, and then there would be band camp, and then regular practices would resume.

Terrance and I were the future vice president and president of the Marching Pride of Acadia Student Fundraising Committee (MPASFC, which Terrance pronounced as “map as fuck” when there were no booster club members around, and we spelled out properly when there were). After this last meeting, we would be the present vice president and president proper, newly minted, and responsible in part for raising the funds necessary to send the Marching Pride of Acadia to the Tournament of Roses Parade in Pasadena this coming winter.

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