Song of Summer by Laura Lee Anderson Read Free Book Online

answer.
    â€œNice. Get home before dark!”
    â€œDuh.”
    My dad spent a ton of time with me getting me ready for my license. He has a BMW bike he rides all the time. I almost got one myself, but then I saw the Streetfighter and it was all over. Love at first sight.
    â€œWhere’d you go?” she asks.
    â€œDiner a couple towns over,” I reply.
    â€œNice. A diner with A WAITRESS?!”
    â€œMaybe.”
    â€œI knew it. Have fun.”
    I roll my eyes, pocket my phone, and look out the window again. My bike is shining in the parking lot. A local walks by and eyes it like it’s a magazine centerfold. Kind of is. He must feel me watching him because he looks straight at me. His eyes land on the helmet that sits on my table, and he jerks his head in a “what’s up,” pointing at the bike and giving it a thumbs-up. I smile tightly and nod once. He keeps on going, looking back at the bike from time to time.
    I’m watching his retreating back when a plate slides into my peripheral vision. Robin. I look up at the smile on her face.
    â€œHere you go!” is written on her paper. “Need anything?”
    I look it over—looks good. Smells even better. I’m about to ask for ketchup when she pulls a bottle out of her apron pocket. I’m about to ask for a refill but she brought one of those too. Then an idea hits me.
    â€œCompany?” I write. I slide my helmet down the table and pat the place opposite me, where it used to sit. She turns pink, like the first day we met, and glances back at the kitchen. Then she holds up a finger, saying “wait,” and trots back to the counter to talk to the other waitress—a tired-looking, pear-shaped woman with a limp ponytail and big doe eyes. The older waitress looks at me, wide eyed, and I flash a hopeful smile. She turns red and looks back at Robin, who is still talking.
    I zigzag ketchup across my fries, and when I look up, Robin’s there. She smiles, a little self-consciously, and slides in across from me, tucking one foot under her. “Sorry,” she writes. “Had to ask if she would take any tables.”
    I look around the restaurant. It’s just me and the couple who was here when I got here. “I don’t know if she’ll be able to handle them all,” I write.
    She reads it with her mouth open in a slight smile, then laughs and shakes her head.
    â€œYou’re right. It’s dead,” she writes.
    I take a bite of my sandwich, and she looks out the window. We sit like that for a while until I hold a fry out to her, tempting her to take it.
    She smiles and takes it, biting delicately as steam escapes. I gesture to the plate and she shakes her head halfheartedly. I give her a look and gesture again, and she laughs and takes a second fry.
    We sit, eating fries for a while. I’m trying to think of something to say but conversation escapes me, so I watch out the window with her.
    â€œNice bike,” she writes. Again, a few curls are desperately trying to escape from her ponytail. I wish they would.
    â€œThanks,” I write. “It’s my baby. Got it a year ago, for my seventeenth birthday.”
    â€œIt’s pretty,” she writes.
    â€œSo are you,” I write back before I realize what I’m doing. She reads it and turns pink again. She smiles but looks away, like she doesn’t know what to say.
    Idiot, idiot, idiot. Who says stuff like that? I reach for the pen and glance at her, hoping she stays long enough for me to write an apology.
    She’s already looking at me with a shy smile. Once she catches my eye, her hand touches her chin. She arcs it down gracefully.
    â€œThank you,” she signs.
    She’s speaking my language.
    I could kiss her.

Chapter 7
    Robin
    I hope I got it right.
    I swallow nervously. He looks like he’s seen a ghost. Ta-da! I probably got it wrong! And right after he called me pretty! I mean, he called me