The Summer of Lost Wishes by Jessa Gabrielle Read Free Book Online Page B

refuse to think of what happens when
summer ends and real life begins again.
    “So where are we going first?” I ask.
    “We’re going to walk down the block, if
that’s cool with you,” he says. “I want to see if a friend of mine
is working this afternoon, and if he is, you’re in for the best
gimmick Coral Sands has to offer.”
     
    Rooks wasn’t kidding about the seafood
restaurants. They’re the pride and joy of this town, from small
family-owned businesses tucked between boutiques to the local
chains to the five-star ‘must have reservations to get in any time
in the next month’ restaurants. You can’t turn the corner without
seeing a sign for lobster, sushi, or shrimp.
    “I guess fresh shrimp is a
perk of living here,” I say, gazing into the window of Walk
The Plank . The lunch crew dashes around the front
counter, setting out napkins, menus, and utensils before they open
soon. I can’t tell much through the tinted window, but it looks
more rustic than serene, as far as style is concerned.
    He shrugs. “Maybe, I guess, if you like
seafood,” he says. “I’m sort of over it. I worked at a seafood
restaurant back home, and if I never ate it again, I’d be okay with
that.”
    “Were you waiting tables or standing at the
roadside in a fish costume handing out coupons?” I ask, trying not
to crack a smile – and failing.
    We avoid the plank and continue along the
sidewalk, past a shop with Coral Sands t-shirts and lighthouse
figurines for sale.
    “You’re not funny,” he says. “I was a
waiter, and it wasn’t the kind of restaurant that would even own a
fish costume. They were more like that place over there, a little
more high-end.”
    He points ahead at Sharktooth Seafront. The
exterior walls are wooden like a surf shack on the beach, but the
logo is sparkly and gold with elegant cursive writing. I bet they
have oak floors and an illuminated bar that glows orange to match
the golden vibe. Mom will probably celebrate her new business
venture at a restaurant like that, somewhere expensive and
showy.
    “The tips were good,” Rooks says. “But when
you work with a higher clientele, you have a much tougher standard
to live up to. I never quite fit in with the country club kind of
people, you know?”
    “So did you quit?” I ask.
    He shakes his head. “No, I was fired,” he
says. “I don’t know what she’s heard, but I see the way your mom
looks at me – like I’m the worst possible person for her daughter
to be hanging out with.”
    Maybe Mr. Carter told Mom about Rooks and the
job termination. That could be why she thinks he’s a bad influence,
that maybe he’ll cost me a corporate position someday if I don’t
stop hanging out with him right now.
    But I doubt Mr. Carter would’ve thrown his
own son under the bus like that. Maybe it’s just rumors and gossip.
This town seems to have mastered that over the last
half-century.
    “I wouldn’t read much into her,” I tell him.
“She’ll come back to reality eventually. Right now, she has this
idea in her head of what our lives will be like here, and she’s
determined to create this picture-perfect image.”
    “And I don’t fit into that picture, right?”
he asks. “Because I’m a troublemaker who is going to be a bad
influence on you and cause all the cool kids to shun you?”
    I don’t even know what to say to that. Mom
doesn’t really hide her lack of approval, but she doesn’t actually
do or say anything rude to him. She says that Mr. Carter is a nice
man who has been ever-so-kind to help us out but that he has a
typical teenage son who needs to get his act together and grow
up.
    “It’s not that,” I say, even though it’s
exactly that.
    “Piper, c’mon. I’m not dumb. I know she
thinks I’m not good enough to hang out with you. I’m not part of
the right social circle. You can say it,” he says.
    It’s almost as if he’s mad that I’m trying to
be nice about it.
    “What kind of trouble did you get