“When are you off?” I ask, stirring the shake and taking a spoonful of the whipped cream off the top.
“We still close at eight even though it’s Friday on the Cape in thesummer. Usually I think it’s crazy that my parents don’t want the extra hour or two of dinner service, but today, thank god. It’s been chaos.”
“The weather.” I nod knowingly, looking outside at the sideways rain that’s been coming down all day. “The kids at camp were all worked up too.”
“You have the weekend off, though, yeah?”
I nod and take a sip of the peanut butter–chocolate milkshake. “Wow, that’s amazing.”
“Right? My own special recipe. A few hundred more of these will pay for culinary school. I think.” She shrugs. Something crashes in the kitchen and the line cook, Maddy’s cousin Kris, shouts out that she’s fine. Maddy sighs. “Maybe in five years.”
“And what’s this?” I point my spoon at the covered plate, and Maddy straightens up, her eyes twinkling.
“Cookies. You’re gonna love them. They’re kind of like thesequilhos my mom makes, but I added shredded coconut and vanilla.” She slides the plate closer, and I pick up a cookie.
I take a bite, and Maddy’s right. I do love them. They rival the baked goods at Lorell’s, and I tell her as much.
“Seriously, Mads, this might be the best thing you’ve ever made.”
“You always say that,” Maddy says, taking a cookie for herself. She points to my notebook. “What are you working on?”
I tell her about the fellowship and the application process, the house I’d get to stay in in Paris next summer. Her eyes grow wide behind her glasses.
“That sounds so cool. What if…” Maddy starts, and I sit up taller. Maddy’swhat-ifs are usually followed by spectacular ideas. “What if I came with you?”
“Yes! I mean, can you?” I look around the diner again, knowing Maddy’s parents rely on her.
“If I give my family a heads-up, I think so. I’ve already been talking to them about this Parisian bakery course.”
“Oh my god. Yes. It would be amazing to go to Paris together. We’d eat all the best pastries.”
“Maybe we can go backpacking too. Do a real European gap year,” Maddy adds.
“Yes,” I say. “It’s decided. We’re doing it.”
Maddy laughs. “We better start saving up.”
Two meals pop up in the service window and Maddy spins off to deliver them. As she does, the bell above the front door chimes, and a girl our age with brown skin and sleek black hair comes in. She has big headphones on and is clutching a sticker-covered laptop to her chest. I smile a little to myself as shecatches Maddy’s eye—she’s totally Maddy’s type. Maddy tells her to sit anywhere, then goes and takes the tweens’ orders and greets a family of six that has just piled in. She comes back around the counter, picking up fries from the window and sliding them toward me.
“Who’s that?” I ask, tilting my head toward the corner booth where the new girl is getting settled.
Maddy shrugs, but there’s a mischievous smile playing at the corner of her mouth. “Don’t know. Summer person, probably.” I raise my eyebrows, but Maddy doesn’t take the bait.
“Do you want a burger too?”
My mouth waters. Of course I want a burger, but there’s already more salt on the fries than I’m supposed to have in a month. I pop one in my mouth while it’s still hot and moan in appreciation.
Maddy quirks an eyebrow at me. “You never had a fry before?”
“It’s been a while since I’ve had one this superb.” Heart-healthy food is fine until it’s all you get, even when you’re on your period and craving Cheetos. Then it’s torture.
“Ah, your heart? Thought you were good?”
“I am. Just supposed to watch my salt, but I’ve been so good all week,” I say as I eat another fry. “Better make it a turkey burger because I’m going to eat too many of these fries.”
Maddy snags a couple fries off the plate and nods.
“So, where are we going on our Eurotrip?” I ask.
