Hot Dog Girl Read online

  I take a deep breath and bounce my head against the door a few times before I shove myself back up. Enough wallowing.There’s work to do: I have a park to save. And a best friend to set up. And also maybe my dad will make us waffles for dinner if I ask real nice.

  CHAPTER 5

  Me: What about Angela?

  Seeley: ???

  Me: To date, Seeley, to date. Keep up!

  Seeley: She’s obsessed with Superman.

  Me: Perfect! You love Captain America!

  Seeley: Exactly! She’s DC! I’m Marvel! It would never work.

  Me: I’m sure you could find some indie comic to bond over instead. Ooh! First date at the comic store?

  Seeley: I don’t know if I’m ready, Lou.

  Me: . . .

  Seeley: Why are you even up? It’s 1 a.m.!

  Me: Why are you??

  Seeley: Because somebody texted me and woke me up.

  Me: What kind of jerk would do that?

  Seeley: It’s fine. I needed to be up in . . . seven hours anyway. Are you okay? I know this park thing is messing with you.

  Me: I think I miss my mom? Like, what? I don’t even know. It’s dumb.

  Seeley: Wanna FaceTime?

  Me: No, you have to rest up if you’re gonna woo Angie tomorrow.

  Seeley: I didn’t agree to that!

  Me: Ssssssshhh. Sleep.

  Seeley: Okayyyyy. Night!

  Me: Night.

  CHAPTER 6

  Mom left the summer I turned nine.

  It was a hot and sweaty process, but one that was way less dramatic than you would think. Mainly because Dad was at the store, and I didn’t really understand the gravity of the situation. So, when she stood in the doorway with her suitcase and hugged me a little too tight, I was more worried about melting from the heat than I was about the fact that she was leaving. I mean, moms don’t get up and leave forever . . . except apparently sometimes they do.

  She was nice enough to leave a note for my dad, which he read all stoic and resigned when he got back. Sometimes I can barely remember my mother’s face, but I don’t think I’ll ever forget the way Dad looked while reading her letter. After he finished, he slid it back into its envelope, cleared his throat, and asked me if I wanted to go see the diving pirates. It was like, as long as we could go and laugh at goofy pirates, everything would be okay.

  And it mostly has been.

  Which is why I’m lying here with a brain full of bees trying to wrap my head around the fact that today is the last opening day ever.

  “Wake up, kiddo.” My dad pokes his head into my room with a big grin. “It’s opening day.”

  “I’m up.” I flash him a smile that I hope looks authentic.

  It must not, because he comes into the room and sits on the edge of my bed, patting my arm the way he used to when I was little.

  “I’m fine.” I look him in the eye, hoping he believes me. “Really.”

  “I know this isn’t what you want to happen.” He pushes his glasses up higher on his nose. “But you’ll get through it. In another year, you’ll be off to college and you’ll forget all about this old town anyway.”

  His voice is quiet then, and I can hear the unspoken words beneath it all. Forget all about me, he means. He’s been making little comments like this ever since I got my driver’s license a few months ago. Instead of being excited that he didn’t have to drive me everywhere anymore, it seems like it almost made him sad.

  “Never,” I say, scooting forward to rest my head on his arm for a second. He scratches the back of my head, just the way I like, but I can tell by his sigh that he’s not convinced. The alarm on my phone goes off, ending the little moment we were having. “I have to get ready.”

  He grins. “You’re going to be the best darn hot dog on the planet.”

  “Well, that’s something to aspire to if I ever heard it.”

  “Hey, the world needs good hot dogs, Elouise.”

  I can tell by his tone that it’s supposed to mean something, that there’s a secret double meaning to his words, but I don’t really have time to figure that out right now. He keeps looking at me, like he’s waiting for me to say something.

  “I don’t know that I agree with that,” I say, “being a vegetarian and all.”

  “Tofu dogs, then.” He chuckles, heading out the door. “The world needs good tofu dogs too.”

  And okay, maybe that’s true. I mean, we can’t all be princesses, right? But we can probably muster up enough dignity to be the very best tofu dogs the world has ever seen. Or something. I don’t know. I’m pretty sure that’s what he was getting at, and yeah, now that burning is back in my chest. But in a good way.

  * * *

  • • •

  Seeley is sitting on her porch when I pull up outside. She’s already got her uniform on, and it looks clean and pressed, like she was up all night getting it ready. Meanwhile my uniform is in a wrinkled pile in the backseat, where I tossed it after they handed them out. Awesome.

  “You look nice,” I say, because she looks good in everything. I swear, she’s magic like that.

  Seeley pops open the car door. “I look like a middle-aged man heading out for a golf match with his buddies.”

  “Okay, that too.” I giggle. I can’t help it.

  Seeley slams the door shut with a laugh. “Thanks. How are you holding up?”

  “Fine, because this isn’t going to be the last opening day if I have anything to say about it.”

  “Oh good, we’ve reached the denial phase—now we just have anger, bargaining, and depression left before we get to acceptance.”

  “Ha-ha,” I deadpan. “Except I’m serious about not letting it close.”

  “Lou—”

  “So, Angie,” I say, cutting her off when we hit the main road.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Come on, you gotta try.”

  Seeley slumps in her seat. “Why don’t you date her, if you like her so much?”

  “Because, first of all, I like Nick. And I know it’s like a one percent chance, but maybe he likes me back. Don’t look at me like that! How many times did he wait by my locker last year?”

  “Your locker was right by the only vending machine students are allowed to use. Everybody waited by your locker, Lou!”

  “Fine, moving on.” I smirk. “Second of all, I don’t have anything in common with Angie, plus she clearly likes you, not me. And third of all, she dated Malia right after I dated Malia. So, no way.” I huff. “I can’t wait to live in a place where there’s not like one degree of separation between every queer girl in the entire area.”

  Seeley laughs and goes back to looking out the window. “What if she says no?”

  “She won’t, trust me. Did you see her at orientation? She was looking at you the way I look at Nick.”

  Seeley rolls her eyes. “No she wasn’t.”

  I fiddle with the radio, stopping at one of Seeley’s favorite songs. “Okay, maybe I oversold it a smidge. But she at least was looking at you the way Jessa looks at Nick.”

  “Oh great,” Seeley says. “So, she’ll dump me every five minutes for absolutely no reason? Perfect.”

  “Oh my god,” I whine. “You’re impossible.”

  Seeley shakes her head and proceeds to spend the rest of the ride staring out the window, but by the time I pull into our parking spot, I can’t help but notice she’s smiling—which means the plan is definitely still on.

  “All right,” I say, but I angle my body toward her too fast, and my seat belt snaps me back against my seat. Seeley bursts out laughing, and I glare at her. “Focus, Seeley, this is serious.”

  “Focusing!” she chokes out between giggles.

  “You are so immature,” I groan. “Anyway, here’s how we’re going to work this. I’m gonna go t
alk to her this morning, feel her out, and then you—”

  But Nick pulls up in the car beside me before I can finish, throwing us a big wave. “Opening day!” he shouts, his voice snaking in through the open window. “You guys coming in or what?”

  “Go.” Seeley shoves my shoulder. “Walk with Nick; I’ll be right behind you. Let me know what happens when you talk to Angie.”

  She doesn’t have to tell me twice.

  * * *

  • • •

  “Hey, Angie,” I say.

  Angela Martinez—Ferris wheel operator, comic book lover, and hopefully Seeley’s future wife—is standing in the middle of the breakroom when I walk in. If that’s not a sign, I don’t know what is.

  “Hey, Elle,” she says. Because, yes, she is that awesome that she also totally respects my nickname request.

  “So . . . ” I say, and then everything goes kind of silent in my head because, crap, I didn’t really think this plan through beyond “find Angie and say hi.”

  She sits down at one of the tables, kicking off her flip-flops and pulling on one of the park regulation sneakers. “Yeah?”

  “You know, Seeley reads comics.” Oh. My. God. Seeley reads comics? Seriously? That’s what my brain decides to lead with? Awesome.

  “I did know that, actually.” She smiles.

  “You guys should hang out at a comic store sometime.”

  Angie sets her foot down. “Okay?”

  “I mean, it seems like you guys have a lot in common. You both operate rides, you both like comics, you both like . . . girls.”

  “Yeah,” she says, only she drags it out into two syllables. “That’s all pretty accurate, Elle.”

  My cheeks burn as I desperately try to right this ship. “I’m just saying, from the outside, for whatever it’s worth. I feel like you guys should totally hang.”

  “Noted.” She laughs as she pulls her long dark hair into a bun.

  “She’s single,” I blurt out as Angie starts to walk away. And wow, okay, I am the least smooth thing of all the things in existence. It’s like the world doesn’t need sandpaper or rocky outcrops or tree bark anymore, because, hi, I exist to serve all of your unsmooth needs.

  Angie hesitates, tilting her head toward me. “Wow, Elle, subtle.”

  “I am very bad at this.” I totally face-palm. “Um, can you do me a favor? Don’t tell Seeley any of this ever happened?”

  “No promises there.” Angie grabs her ID off the table and clips it onto her shirt. “Might be a good icebreaker for when we hang at the comic store.”

  “When you what?”

  Angie grins. “Tell Seeley to stop by the Ferris wheel on her break, and we can figure it out.”

  “Really?”

  Angie bites her lip and nods.

  “Yes!” I jump up to wrap her in a hug but then catch myself.

  Angie heads for the door. “I hope Seeley is as excited as you are.”

  “More, way more,” I say, and as soon as she’s gone, I pull out my phone.

  Me: You have a date!

  Seeley: Seriously??

  Me: Yes! She wants you to stop by the Ferris wheel to figure everything out.

  Seeley: You didn’t act all weird, did you?

  Me: Nooooooo. Me? Never.

  Seeley: . . . I don’t believe you. But thanks.

  I shove my phone into my pocket and stare up at the ceiling. Now that See’s on her way to a happily ever after, I should get back to work on mine . . . but first, it’s hot dog time.

  CHAPTER 7

  I am melting.

  I am melting and dying.

  I am melting and dying, and I hate this place. I don’t know why I ever thought putting on a giant hot dog costume that smells vaguely of last year’s throw up—sure, it only happened once, but yeah, it’s that hard to get the smell out—and dancing around the food court surrounded by cranky children under the hot summer sun for barely above minimum wage was a good idea.

  I hate this place. I. Hate. This. Place.

  “Hot dog! Hot dog!” a little kid screams, tugging his mother over to me.

  “Can I get a picture?” she asks, and I say sure in as chipper a voice as I can manage when it’s eighty-five degrees out and I’m dying right here, right in front of her, and she’s asking me for photographic evidence.

  Oh my god, I hate this place.

  “Looking good, Elouise.” Nick grins as he walks by, his hair still dripping as he heads to the breakroom. He just finished his 12:30 show, not that I was obsessively checking on that or anything.

  I hate this place and I’m glad it’s closing.

  And as soon as I think that, I wish I could take it back. Because no, that’s not true, not at all. I love this place, and if I jinxed it to definitely-no-matter-what close now because of one day under the hot summer sun, then I’ll never forgive myself. Because yeah, Mr. P says it’s going to close, but I still don’t totally believe him. Or at least I didn’t, until now, when I cursed everything.

  My stomach twists, bile lurching up my throat as I crouch down next to another child begging for a picture. I know it’s a million degrees, but please don’t lose it right now, Lou, please do not blow chunks all over this innocent little kid and his unsuspecting mother. Please, please, please, please, please.

  “Are you okay, honey?” the woman asks. I nod frantically as I stand back up. “Maybe you should sit down. You look a little green.” I can tell by the way she’s looking at me that all her mom spidey-senses have been activated. Seeley’s mom gets like that too, sometimes.

  I shake my head fast, which makes my stomach hurt a little more, because this is too much. It’s too much sitting here in the hot sun with a worried mom that’s not my mom, never was my mom, never had a mom, in the place of all my best childhood memories, which is about to close down forever. Mostly probably because I wished it would.

  I am an ungrateful little hot dog.

  I smile at her and turn to leave, afraid to open my mouth in case I really do get sick. I rush down the path, down toward the breakroom and the air-conditioning, toward a quiet bathroom stall where I can hopefully recover in peace.

  I start messing with the buttons and zippers on the suit when I’m halfway down the path, not caring if any little kids see me, because this is an emergency situation. I yank open the door, and the air-conditioning slams into my face. The change in temperature makes my stomach twitch again, and I swallow down the thick saliva. A few more steps and I’m safe. A few more steps and I’m good: fire the missiles, all systems go, mission accomplished.

  The suit falls around my feet as I undo the last button, leaving me standing in the middle of the breakroom in only my tiny shorts and tank top. It’s practically underwear, and I know it, but Marla—our resident costume manager—said it was the best option because I’d just sweat through everything else.

  “Elouise?” Nick steps out of the boys’ changing area, his eyes going huge. I must look half naked to him, standing here in a sweat-soaked glorified cami with the chills from the air-conditioning giving me the worst case of nip-ons I’ve ever had. Even my hair is all damp and matted down. Thanks, universe, this is swell.

  “What are you doing?” he asks, and I can’t tell if it’s with disgust or concern.

  I hold up a finger, the unmistakable sign of Please stop talking, as my body lurches all on its own. I turn toward the garbage next to me, puking up my breakfast from this morning and my dinner from last night, old popcorn kernels scraping their way up my throat along with everything else. Puking and heaving, in my sweat-soaked clothes, or lack thereof, in front of the boy of my dreams.

  And oh my god, please, please kill me now. This is every nightmare I’ve ever had in my entire life. This is going to school naked times forgetting your own name times saying orgasm instead of organism in science class. This is
bad. Oh god, this is bad. And surely this is as bad as it can get, right, surely this is the lowest of the low, nowhere to go but up? But as my stomach lurches again, I start to cry. Because of course I do. Fuck. Please. Please, kill me now.

  “Elouise?” From the sound of his voice, I can tell he’s moving closer. Closer to my sweat-soaked body that smells like puke. Awesome.

  “Go away,” I groan, bracing both my arms on the side of the giant gray garbage bin and pushing myself back upright. “Please.”

  “Are you okay?” he asks, and his hand is on my back. I’ve waited my whole life for a hot diving pirate to touch my back, and I can’t believe it’s happening now, when I’m sweaty, puking, and on the verge of passing out. I don’t know what I did in a past life to deserve this. I really, really don’t.

  “Please don’t.” I roll my shoulders back where he’s started to rub them. “I’m really gross.”

  “You’re not really gross.” He steps back, dropping his arms, and I give him a look. “Fine, you’re a little gross. But honestly, you okay?”

  “I guess.” A fresh wave of goose bumps ghosts over my body, and I cross my arms over my chest with a sniffle.

  “Hey, hey, don’t start crying again.” He perches his butt up on one of the tables behind us. “None of that.”

  “Sorry.” I have no idea why I’m apologizing.

  Nick arches his eyebrows. “Where are your clothes?”

  “You can’t really wear actual clothes in the suit. It gets too hot.”

  “Do you puke a lot?”

  “Not usually,” I say, “but I pushed it today. It’s super hot out and I stayed in it way too long.”

  “Why would you do that?”

  I shrug. “Opening day?”

  Nick gets up and yanks his locker open, revealing one of the big, thick towels that the guys all wrap themselves in after their shows. “I admire your dedication to your craft.” He tosses it toward me, and I grab it with a grateful smile.