Fan Girl (9 page)

Chapter
17

Summer swallows the
last
bite of her frosted cornflakes, gulps down her orange juice, and tells Ellie
and Ken she’ll be bringing home dinner tonight.

“I
want a bucket of fried chicken,” Ken shouts from the bedroom. “And a six-pack!”

“No!”
Ellie hollers from the driveway. “No fried chicken or beer! Bring this old man
something healthier.”

“Who
are you calling an old man?” Ken yells.

“Who
do you think?” Ellie retorts.

 
Summer grins. “Behave, you guys. No
fighting while I’m at work.”

She
hears loud, obnoxious honking from outside. “Let’s go, Nick,” she calls out,
and Nick steps out of his room yawning and rubbing his eyes, his hair wet from
the shower, his shirt on backwards, and his shoelaces untied. She laughs at the
sight of him looking disoriented but adorable. “Come on, Mister Sleepyhead.”

He
looks at his shirt and shoes questioningly, then at her. She takes his hand
soothingly and tells him, “We’ll do something about that on the road, okay?”
Nick bites his lip and nods. She opens the door, sprints to Zac’s car, and
climbs into the backseat after Nick, pushing a gym bag, an umbrella, a muddy
shoe, and a black garbage bag out of the way.

“Good
morning,” Zac says. “Thank you for making us late for work. You’re such an efficient
employee.” Time for Diner is doing well, and he has given Summer a temporary
job as head of the summer kitchen program for kids, in which Nick was
enrolled—basically, she gets to boss around little children all day for
two entire months under the guise of showing them how to operate the milkshake
machine, how to make perfect peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, and how to
take customers’ orders politely. She also gets to brag about her work
experience “at a restaurant abroad” on a daily basis.

“Hey,
Summer,” a pretty, perky girl in a pink dress greets her from the passenger
seat. “Hi, Nick. Sorry about the honking. I told him to shut up.” It was
Cassie—the girl who owned the vintage boutique across the street. She was
smart and sweet, and it was virtually impossible not to like her. Her fingers
were laced through Zac’s.

“Are
you sure you want this one?” Summer asks, like she is running a dog pound and
trying to talk a potential owner out of adopting a mangy, noisy, unfriendly
puppy. “It’s not yet too late to put it back where you found it. I’m sure
someone with poor standards and a death wish will take it.”

Cassie
smiles at Zac, who squeezes her hand tighter. After crushing on her from afar
for months, he finally mustered the courage to introduce himself. It took him
more time to ask for her number, and even more time to finally ask her out. On
their first date, he forgot his wallet. On their second, his car broke down. It
was pathetic. He was pathetic. And Summer will never let him hear the end of this.

“He’s
not that bad,” Cassie says. “I guess this one’s all right.”

With its shiny
red booths, flashing
lights, and black and white checkered floor, Time for Diner
looks and feels like an authentic fifties hangout. There is
an ice cream dispenser, a soda fountain, a collection of vintage movie posters,
and a revolving door. The smell of butter and sugar wafts through the air, and
a jukebox croons softly in the corner.

It is
a late Friday afternoon, and most of the kids have been whisked away by their
parents for the long weekend. Summer is manning the takeout counter as a favor
to Zac, her headphones on, listening to new music he had given her. A song
about a girl who wants to go to New York to see the subways and the skyscrapers
starts playing, and Summer turns the volume up. She remembers Mr.
Brooks—how he told her to welcome stability and contentment—and
wonders what he’d say to this Big Apple-bound girl to convince her to stay.
Maybe change was okay as long as you balanced it with direction and kept an eye
on what was important. Maybe change was okay if you chased after the right
things, at the right time, for all the right reasons.

A
tall, scruffy boy with a floppy mop of hair walks into the diner, jangling his
keys and wearing a half-smile. He looks familiar, but she’s not quite sure why.
He stops in front of the takeout counter. “Hi,” he says.

“Hello, Sir!” Summer yells, then realizes she’s yelling
and sheepishly takes her headphones off. “What can I get for you?” she asks,
trying not to blush.

The
boy ponders over the menu, his forehead wrinkling in concentration. “I’ll have
a dozen bacon cheeseburgers, ten large chili cheese fries, one whole apple pie,
and a dozen double chocolate milkshakes.”

“Growing
boy,” she mutters.

“Big
party, actually,” he says. “My little sister’s celebrating her birthday.”

“I’m
celebrating mine tomorrow,” she volunteers, like he needed to know. “Sorry.
Overshare.”

He
laughs. “That’s okay. Happy birthday…” he checks her name tag. “Summer.”

“Thanks,”
she says, beaming. She notices his shirt—an old, worn-out Violet Reaction
band tee that is a couple of inches too short for him. Maybe the universe is
trying to tell her something. She smiles. “Nice shirt.”

“What,
this?” He looks down, embarrassed. “I’ve had it for a while, obviously. I used
to be such a fanboy, back when I was in college.”

“Used
to?” she asks.

“Well,
yeah,” he says. “At that time, everyone loved them, right? I wonder what
happened to them.”

“They
split.” She shrugs. “Things changed. They all had their own lives to live.”

The
boy seems to debate with himself over something, then says, “I’m David.”

“Hi,
David,” Summer says. They shake hands. And when she gives David his twelve
bacon cheeseburgers, ten chili cheese fries, one whole apple pie, and twelve
double chocolate milkshakes, she says, “I bet your sister will be very happy.”

“I’m
sure she will be,” he says, looking around. “She’s supposed to be around here
somewhere. Cute girl with long hair, charming but kind of bratty? Her name’s
Kylie.”

“Oh,
Kylie,” Summer says taking in the striking resemblance and, thinking,
So
that’s why you look so familiar.
“She’s in the kitchen,
making a career out of playing Little Miss Sous Chef with my nephew. We’re not
paying her for overtime, by the way.”

When
David laughs like this is the funniest thing in the world, Summer feels
flustered. “Let me get her for you,” she mumbles, ducking out of sight.

When
Kylie emerges from the kitchen with Nick right behind her, she rushes over to
David, hugs his legs and says, “Can we please invite Summer and Nick to my
party? Please, please, please?”

“It’s your party,” David tells her, bending down to take
her bubblegum pink backpack and slinging it over one shoulder, not looking even
the least bit self-conscious. “You can invite whoever you want.” He glances at
Summer, a question on his face. “But Summer might have other plans. It’s her
birthday tomorrow.”

“She
doesn’t have other plans!” Kylie declares. “She’s coming with us.”

“Yes!”
Nick butts in. “She’s coming with us!”

David
laughs again—he seems like the kind of guy who is generous with his
laughter—and turns to Summer. “Well? You heard them. Can you please join
us?”

“I’d
love to,” Summer says. “Nick and I have to leave by around eight, though. We’re
bringing his parents dinner.”

“I
can take you guys home,” David offers. “But first, you have one wild party to
attend.”

Kylie
and Nick run ahead of them towards David’s white
SUV
,
clamber into the backseat, stretch out their stubby legs as if to say,
There’s
no more room here
, and flash them mischievous,
self-satisfied smiles. David shakes his head, places the pink backpack beside
Kylie’s feet, and holds the passenger door open for Summer, looking at her like
maybe he could see something in her beyond the greasy ponytail and the stained
diner uniform and the chewed-up fingernails.

As he
revs up the engine, a Violet Reaction song from five years ago called “Brand
New” starts playing on the radio. David grins, looking amused. “I have a
confession: I used to dream I’d wake up and be Scott Carlton. He was just so
bad-ass, you know?”

Summer
laughs. “I know exactly what you’re talking about. I used to be their biggest
fan. I used to dream I’d wake up and magically become the love of Scott’s
life.”

“Used
to?”

She
smiles. “Used to. Not anymore.”

“Why
not?” he asks. They stop at an intersection, barely missing the yellow light.

She
looks straight ahead for several seconds. “I guess I gave up on him.” She’s not
sure what he’d think of this, or what he’d think of her after hearing this.
“Was that wrong?”

“Probably
not,” he says, meeting her eyes. “Sometimes, you’re allowed to give up on
someone so you can grow up. It’s the only way you can make room for someone
else.”

Someone
better,
Summer thinks, but she doesn’t say this out
loud. Not yet. She thinks about Ellie and Ken and the fact that they definitely
add up, and she wonders whether she and David would come close to adding up,
eventually. She wonders, a bit anxiously, whether he’d stay long enough for her
to find out.
It’s all right
, she
tells herself.
I can wait.

The
light turns green. They drive down the road as the evening creeps in around
them and the street lamps start glowing all at once, an assembly line of
radiance. Summer listens to the song on the radio, and although she still knows
the words by heart, when she catches David sneaking a tentative sideways glance
at her, that part of her life suddenly feels like a very long time ago.

About the Author

Marla is a
fan of James Franco’s acting, David Nicholls’ writing, and Ryan Reynolds’s abs.
She is the Assistant Lifestyle Editor of
Candy Magazine
and the author of the
Every
Girl’s Guide
series and the short story collection
Table for Two
. She is also a licensed teacher, an
occasional stylist, an excellent babysitter, and an all-around happy girl. At
25, she is doing her best to make it all add up.