“The Big Breakfast Plate is good,” he said.
“I don’t know if I can trust you.” Emery deliberated, ordered the Big Breakfast Plate, handed the menu to Sarah, then eyed Caleb. “If it’s not good, you’re buying.”
“No problem.” Caleb ordered the same, along with a Coke.
Sarah jotted on her order pad, asking Caleb about his summer and if the Eagles planned to retaliate against the Panthers for trashing their beach.
“Don’t know,” he said. “But if I told you, I’d have kill you.”
“Such a cliché, Caleb.” Sarah squeezed his arm. “Anyway, some of us are going to the Fish Hook later. It’s bonfire night. You should come.”
“We’ll see,” he said.
“She’s into you big-time,” Emery said, when she’d gone.
“She’s a flirt. Dates my buddy Jumbo.”
“You’d better warn him. And where did he get the name Jumbo?”
“You’ll see when you meet him.”
“You think I’m going to meet him?”
“Of course, when you start hanging out with me.”
“What makes you think I’m going to hang out with you?”
“I have no idea. I’m shooting in the dark here, Emery.”
“Speaking of the dark, did your sister come home the other night?”
“She did. About four a.m.” He looked up when Sarah set down his soda. “I tried to talk to her this morning, but she’s not giving up much.” Talking about Cassidy made him sad. And he didn’t want to be sad while sitting across from Emery.
“My mom was into punk in her teens,” Emery said. “She wore combat boots and chains. If my grandparents hated something, shelovedit. Next thing you know, she’s in college, majoring in business, joining all these clubs and honor societies. Then she met my dad, got an MBA, engaged and married, had a baby while rising in the banking ranks, became a senior vice president, and drove a Mercedes. Punk Rosie would never believe Adult Rosie would do corporate America. So give your sister a break. She’ll come around.”
Caleb reached for her hand. “Thanks. That means a lot.”
He thought she’d pull away, but she held on, gripping his right with her left. Caleb softly moved his thumb back and forth, only letting go when Sarah loudly arrived with their food. He sat back, grateful to pull himself together. Another minute and his heart would’ve thumped right out of his chest. He’d heard about a girl making a guy feel nutso, but he thought it was hooey. Until now.
Being an Irish twin with a sister, Caleb was comfortable around girls. Cassidy had a boatload of friends who were always running in and out of the house. Some of them “liked” him over the years, but none make him feel the way Emery Quinn did.
Across the table, she cut up her pancakes and took a small bite. Caleb did the same. Even though he was starving, he didn’t want to look like a buffoon.
“What was Sarah talking about? With the other high school?” Emery said after a minute.
“We’re rivals with West End High. The Panthers,” he said. “The East End of Sea Blue Beach is the original settlement. The Nickle High Eagles are the original high school. The town was founded by a prince and—”
“Nuh-uh. A real prince?”
“Yeah, from Lauchtenland. He built the Starlight roller-skating rink and half the town. A man named Nickle, who wasa freed slave, saved the prince after his yacht crashed during a storm or something. Nickle High was named after him. In the nineties, some developers came in and built up the town west of the rink. Everything new is on the West End. Everything old is east. West End High was built in 1994. Nickle High was built in, like, 1900. The football teams became rivals. They started pranking each other. Toilet-papering the courtyard, hauling beat-up old cars to block the field house. The last four years, we’ve owned the rivalry game. And every summer, they trash our beach.”
“And then you trash theirs?” Emery said.
“We have not. But the seniors are saying it’s time.” He shoved in another bite of pancake, followed by scrambled eggs. “The guys talked about the retaliation all morning. It’s going to be epic. Four-years-of-trashing-our-beach epic. You want trash, we’ll give you trash.”
“Don’t they get into trouble? I mean, if the principals or parents know their team is trashing the beach ... isn’t that public property?”
“Oh, they know. All we hear is ‘keep it civil.’”
