How to Meet Boys by Catherine Clark Read Free Book Online

“Shee-shaw.” Like I’d just gotten my jaw wired shut and was only allowed to drink my meals in liquid form.
    “About time you showed up, Lucy,” Grandpa said.
    “What?” It was nine forty-five, which was when they’d told me to be there. I glanced at Jackson. “But you said—”
    Grandpa smiled and clapped me on the back. “Just messing with you,” he said. “You’re right on time.”
    “Ha ha,” I said, pushing him slightly with my shoulder.
    “It’s just that Jackson here was early, which kind of puts him on the nice list,” Grandpa said. “You, on the other hand? Naughty list all the way.”
    “Grandpa, seriously? Are you really keeping track of that stuff now? Christmas is six months off.”
    “No kidding. And I’m not Santa Claus—although I did play him once or twice,” my grandpa said.
    “On TV?” asked Jackson.
    “No. In the living room.” My grandfather laughed.
    I couldn’t help noticing that Jackson and I looked kind of idiotic standing there in our Apple Store T-shirts. Like we were siblings and had matching red shirts because it was time for our yearly Christmas picture.
    My grandpa and his reference to nice and naughty lists had started me off on a weird train of thought.
    Jackson sort of turned toward me, and I panicked, not sure what to do or say. I hurried over to my grandpa as he headed for the back door. “You’re going to leave right away? Really?”
    “Yes, really,” he said.
    “But it’s our first day! We might need you,” I said. Me in particular. Because I need a buffer between me and Jackson at all times, thank you.
    “The store has a phone. I have a phone. I don’t see a problem,” he replied. “Besides, your grandmother will be in later.”
    “Yeah, but . . ”
    “Lucy.” He smiled. “Did you think we hired you so we could hang out and visit all day? We have things to do. That’s why we want you and Jackson to mind the store.”
    Ouch. “Okay,” I said. “No, you’re right. Of course. Uh, bye!”
    He walked out and I turned around, feeling dumb. Fortunately, Jackson was busy restocking the apple bar. If he was embarrassed for me for acting like a six-year-old, at least he didn’t show it. While his back was turned, I checked him out for a second. How tall exactly had he gotten? Six feet? And me, I had only grown like two inches. How was that fair?
    He suddenly turned slightly and I quickly made myself busy straightening a table of T-shirts. Being a weekday early in the season, I didn’t really expect the store would get a ton of business. That was a good thing and a bad thing. We needed the time to learn what we were doing, but we might be stuck alone in the store with nothing to say to each other. For eight hours. Eight long, endless, awkward hours.
    I got a lunch break, right? I was dying to know if, and when, I got a lunch break. But that would leave Jackson in the store all by himself. That wouldn’t be fair. Why had my grandparents not gone over this with us? At my other job, at the coffee chain in the mall, this kind of stuff was set in stone. You couldn’t walk a foot without hitting some kind of posted rule, regulation, or encouraging team language.
    “So. You do this last summer too?” Jackson asked.
    “Oh. No. Uh uh.” I shook my head. “I was in the Cities.”
    “Really? I could have sworn I saw you up here,” he said.
    “Maybe on vacation,” I said. “I was here for a week or two.”
    “Oh.” He nodded. “I was here the whole summer, so.”
    “So, yeah.” I nodded and sort of laughed. I sounded strange and uncomfortable, which was exactly how I felt. “Um, so did my grandfather go over what we should do?”
    “There’s a list.” Jackson pointed to the counter, near the cash register.
    “Right, right.” My grandmother had already shown me the list, but I’d forgotten.
    I walked over to the counter and found the handwritten, laminated “Daily To-Do” list, with a Post-it note on top saying:
    Jackson and