MY FIRST SHIFT GOESpretty well.
I only dropped one plate, and it was in the kitchen rather than the dining room. Even if Myles probably heard the crash, he didn’t see it, which saves me about 50 percent of the embarrassment potential. Busboy Ned swept over with an “I’ve got it,” and he wouldn’t hear any different when, cheeks burning, I offered to clean it up myself.
“Our tips are pooled,” he said. “Let me handle this while you focus on the tables.”
I still felt a little guilty when he went down on hands and knees to wipe splattered marinara off the stainless steel cabinet.
I allowed myself a handicap and let customers know I was new, and everyone was relatively understanding about it. I like to think we’re lucky here in Kingfisher Cove. We’ve got a moremom-and-pop beach town feel, and the tourists are nice and seem happy to be here. The super-rich, high-maintenance folks usually congregate closer to Martha’s Vineyard and Nantucket.
I swipe one of the paper menus to remember my first day and walk home feeling pretty proud of myself. No one cried—not me or any of my customers. Myles even gave me a fist bump when I passed him on my way out, and I may never wash my hand again. (Kidding. Sort of.)
I wish Kat had been there with me, though, like she was supposed to be. We’d go celebrate our first shift with ice cream on the beach rather than me walking home alone with no one to debrief with.
She still hasn’t responded to my last two messages:
Me: MYLES SMILED DIRECTLY AT ME
Me: YOU TOO COULD ENJOY THIS MIRACLE IF YOU WERE HERE
It’s not until after I get home and have just finished changing into shorts and a long-sleeved T-shirt that I finally hear from her.
Kat: UGH LUCKY
Kat: but you know what, it’s okay because practice today was so fun!
Me: Really? That’s great
Kat: i met three other girls that go to my new school, and they’re so cool! two of them are seniors, and get this—one of them saw me play during the championship last year and she remembers me! can you believe it?
Me: Well, yeah. You killed it at State.
Kat loves that message, and I scroll up to the swing picture I sent her earlier today. She never replied or reacted to it. I sit on theedge of my bed and ask about her coach, since working with him is the whole reason she moved early. I’d rather talk about tennis than whatever new friends she’s already made. I’d rather talk about condiments or inflation than the new friends she’s made.
Me: So is your new coach super hardcore? More than Coach T?
Kat: no, he’s amazing.
Kat: he’ll be tough, but it will be good for me
Kat: one of the girls i met today invited me over for dinner tonight with her family and she said she’d take me around town after, isn’t that so nice?
Kat: she has an older brother… maybe he’s hot
I love the text about her coach, and send a fingers-crossed emoji about the hot brother prospect. Thank God for texting. I’m not sure I could keep the jealousy from my expression.
Kat: gotta go take a shower and get ready!
I frown at the screen. That’s it?
Doesn’t she want to know how my first shift went? If in addition to his miraculous smile, Myles actually spoke to me?
Maybe she does, but she’s just distracted with her new friend. And Kat making friends is a good thing.
Itis.
I don’t want Kat to be lonely. I’m not a jerk, and I hate when other people are sad, especially when that person is my best friend. It’s just… I don’t want to be lonely either, and it sucks that it’s obviously going to be a bigger effort for me to make sure that doesn’t happen.
I hear the front door open and my dad’s voice talking toMargarine. It’s probably better that I leave this pity party in my room, so I plug my phone in and head downstairs.
