Whitney Page 7

  And as long as my secrets were kept, I wasn’t in danger of losing the new friends I’d made this summer.

  Jake and I arrived at the baseball field. It was a long walk from the parking lot to the gate. I was disappointed that we didn’t hold hands. I considered being bold and taking his hand. That would certainly make a statement about my feelings for him, but I was a chicken. What if I took his hand and he looked at me like I was crazy? Did guys like boldness in a girl? Or did they want to make all the moves? Should I text Robyn for some advice?

  Jake gave our tickets to the gate attendant, who scanned them. Then we walked through the gate. We started working our way through the crowd of people.

  Jake reached back and took my hand. His hand was large, mine so small. I wanted to think it meant something special that we were holding hands, but I suspected it was just that he didn’t want us to get separated. He seemed to know where he was going.

  I’d been here once, earlier in the summer, for a fireworks show. Sean had invited me that time. We sat on a quilt on the grassy knoll. I was really hoping that Jake’s tickets were for real seats.

  We stopped at the concession stand and bought hot dogs and drinks. Then we walked to a section behind home plate. “Follow me,” Jake said, and he started down the steps.

  Thank goodness. No grassy knoll. I wasn’t a huge fan of bugs. Jake kept on going down the steps until he was five rows from the bottom. We were on the aisle. I took the inside seat.

  “These are great seats,” I said.

  “Yeah. My dad buys season tickets. We don’t make it to all the games, but we always have great seats when we do.”

  I bit into my hot dog. “Oh, this is good.”

  “Ballpark hot dogs are the best. I don’t know why, but they’re always better than you’ll get anywhere else.”

  “The ones at Paradise Falls are good,” I said, feeling a need to defend the park and its offerings.

  He grinned. “I don’t think they’re this good.”

  I smiled back at him. “Almost.”

  I finished eating my hot dog as people began filling in the seats around us. When the game started and the first player went up to the plate, I took out my cell phone.

  “What are you doing?” Jake asked.

  “Sending my aunt proof that we’re at the game.” I thought a player at bat was more interesting than the scoreboard. I snapped the picture and sent it to her.

  “She needed proof?” he asked.

  I peered over at him and shrugged. “What can I say? You heard her spouting off the rules.”

  “Your dad is pretty protective, isn’t he?”

  “Afraid so. But it’s just because I’m his princess. His words, not mine. He gets back from his business trip tomorrow. You’ll have to meet him.”

  Jake shifted in his seat as though he was suddenly really uncomfortable. He turned his attention back to the game.

  I was such an idiot. No matter how much I loved my dad, guys didn’t want to meet fathers. Plus I was assuming a lot — like maybe Jake would ask me out again, that I wasn’t just a seat-filler. That there was a reason for him to meet my dad, like maybe we’d do more things together.

  “So which team are we rooting for?” I wanted to change the subject and get things comfortable between us again.

  Jake grinned at me. He really had the cutest grin. “The home team, of course. Rough Riders. I can’t believe you’ve never been to a baseball game.”

  “My dad likes football.”

  “I like football, too. It’s not like you can have only one sport.”

  “But he’s busy with business.”

  I thought I saw sympathy in Jake’s expression.

  “But that’s okay,” I told him, “because it makes tonight really special. You’ll always be the guy who took me to my first baseball game.”

  My words sounded so pathetic, as though I was trying to force Jake to be special, or force him to see me as special. Why couldn’t I just enjoy the game and stop worrying about what being here said about us?

  The pitcher struck out the first three batters. Our team was up to bat. I was sneaking a peek at Jake when I heard a crack. The player had hit the ball hard, right out of the park. Jake came to his feet and punched his arm in the air. “Yeah!”

  He looked down at me. “You do know what a home run is, don’t you?”

  “Of course. I’ve seen baseball — like in the movies and stuff.”

  “Then come on! Get into it.”

  I stood up, and even though I felt silly, I punched the air, too. “Yeah!”

  Jake leaned down and brushed his shoulder against mine. “That’s more like it.”

  I smiled at him. He was so much fun.

  The announcer announced that they’d be passing around a boot, taking donations that would go to the player’s favorite charity. Jake and I each put a dollar in the boot when it made it down our row.

  I tried to pay attention to the game, but I was more interested in the various activities happening around the edge of the field. The mascot was someone dressed up like a gigantic prairie dog. His antics were hilarious. The games they played in between innings had me thinking about how we could adapt them to use at parties held at Paradise Falls.

  Then in the sixth inning, they displayed a heart on the video screen, and the camera zoomed in on a couple who would then kiss. Someone with a camera was walking around close to where Jake and I were sitting. I held my breath, wondering what we’d do if the camera focused on us. Would it be a real kiss? Did I want hundreds of people I didn’t know to witness my very first kiss?

  Jake picked up his program and started reading player stats. I wondered if he was nervous, too, if he was trying to figure out what we would do.

  The camera zoomed in on two guys in the visitors’ dugout. They waved the camera away, but it stayed on them. One guy leaned over and pretended to kiss the other one. The crowd laughed and clapped. Then the kiss cam went off the video screen, and the umpire called out, “Play ball.”

  “That was kinda crazy,” I said.

  “Yeah. It can get even crazier, though. They don’t always realize who’s together. Once they put the camera on my dad and the woman sitting beside him. Unfortunately, she wasn’t my mom. She was someone we didn’t even know.”

  “What did your dad do?”

  Jake shrugged. “What could he do? They wouldn’t move the camera on, so he kissed her on the cheek.”

  So Jake would have kissed me. Question was: Would it have been because he wanted to or because he felt like he had no choice?

  The game was over by nine thirty. Our team won, one to nothing. The only score came from that home run. Before the game was over, I bought a bag of cotton candy to take to Aunt Sophie.

  By the time we got to the parking lot, it was a little after ten. We didn’t talk much on the drive home. The closer we got to my house, the more nervous I became. I opened the bag and snitched a little cotton candy so my mouth would be sweet — just in case. I thought that was better than scrounging around in my tote for a cinnamon breath strip.

  Jake pulled to a stop outside the front porch. We opened our doors at the same time, climbed out, and met near the front of the truck. Jake looked at the door. I looked at him. He stuck his hands in his back pockets. “Well, thanks for going with me,” he said.

  “Anytime your dad can’t go …” Did I really say that? Had I just invited myself along? Aunt Sophie would be horrified by my boldness.

  Jake took a step back. “I’ll just stand here and make sure you get in all right.” Was that guy-talk for no kiss?

  “It’s not like I’m going to get mugged,” I said.

  “Still, it’s the way my dad taught me.”

  His dad, the cop, had taught him to watch out for people.

  “Well, then, okay.” I felt awkward and silly. I thought about just stepping over and kissing him. But did I really want my first kiss to be one that I gave a guy — a guy who didn’t seem to be too interest
ed in kissing me? “Thanks. I had fun.”

  “See you at work tomorrow.”

  I nodded. “Okay.”

  Disappointed, I walked up the steps and opened the door. I looked back over my shoulder and waved at Jake. Then I went inside. I heard a truck door slam, heard the roar of the engine as the truck started, and heard the rumble of the tires over the pebbled drive as Jake drove away.

  I had no reason to be sad. The night had been fun. Not all guys kissed on the first date. Jake was probably shy — just like Robyn kept telling me. He said he liked me. Tonight there had been no spotlight on us. So why didn’t he kiss me?

  Maybe Aunt Sophie could shed some light on the things that were confusing me. Besides, I needed to give her the cotton candy.

  I looked in the living room. Aunt Sophie wasn’t there. I could see light coming from the direction of the kitchen. I headed that way and stumbled to a stop in the doorway.

  Aunt Sophie was in the kitchen, sitting at the counter. So was David. They were holding hands and smiling at each other.

  Romance was going on right under my nose. How had that happened and how had I missed it?

  “Your aunt and the chauffeur?” Robyn asked the next morning, clearly as mystified as I had been last night when I’d spied the lovebirds.

  We were standing near Tsunami before we all headed off in different directions to get to our assigned positions. Caitlin and Robyn had cornered me, wanting to know the scoop about my date with Jake, but sadly it wasn’t nearly as interesting as what I’d discovered in the kitchen. “My aunt and the chauffeur,” I repeated.

  “Wasn’t that a Disney movie?” Caitlin asked.

  “I don’t think so.”

  “How could they like each other and you not know?” Robyn asked.

  “You’ve been to my house. We can go days without seeing each other. So I guess they were hanging around together and I never saw them. If I hadn’t gotten home a little early last night, I might not have ever seen them. I’m just a little freaked out.”

  “I think it’s great,” Robyn said.

  “But what if they get married? Who’ll take care of me when Dad is out of town?”

  Robyn gave me a warm smile. “You can stay with me.”

  “Really?”

  “Sure. It’s just Mom and me. She won’t mind. So let’s get back to Jake. How was your date?”

  I still hadn’t decided and I wasn’t sure how much I wanted to reveal. Would I look like a total loser if I confessed that he hadn’t kissed me? When in doubt, stall. I glanced at my watch. “No time. I’ll tell you all about it during lunch.”

  I headed to the office. Fridays were always killers. The only worse day was Saturday. Sunday wasn’t as bad, but still it was no picnic — well, unless you were celebrating a birthday. Then a picnic was usually involved.

  I walked into the office building. The receptionist looked up. “Uh, Mr. T wants to see you?”

  Her voice rose at the end, making the statement sound like she was questioning whether I was the person he wanted to see. How strange. It was as though she was afraid of me or something. “Okay.”

  I strolled down the hallway to his office. His last name was difficult to pronounce, so he just went by Mr. T. Even the sign beside his door just read, MR. T.

  The door was open. Still, I knocked on the doorjamb. He looked up from something he was studying and smiled at me. “Whitney, come on in. Have a seat.”

  I sat in the leather chair in front of his desk. Mr. T had fading red hair. He was slender and in good shape. I’d seen him hop onto benches when he wanted to be seen so he could address a crowd of people. I liked him.

  “How are you doing?” he asked.

  “Doing good.”

  “Good. Good. Good.”

  Okay, there were too many goods being bandied about. I had a theory that when someone kept saying good, it was because something was bad.

  “Is everything okay?” I asked.

  He steepled his fingers and tapped them together. “I’m glad you asked, because I have a bit of a problem.”

  I wasn’t at all surprised to hear that. I was a little surprised that he was telling me, but I decided that maybe he saw me as a problem solver — a creative thinker.

  “I’m short an employee in the Treasure Chest gift shop. I’d like you to fill in. I know you don’t have any cash register experience so you’d just take care of, uh, you know — - answering questions and helping customers.”

  “You mean, like a sales associate?”

  “More like a helper.”

  “But what about parties? On Friday we’re usually swamped.”

  He cleared his throat. “Well, when you were AWOL the other morning, Lisa found a couple of people to help her. They helped yesterday, too, so we moved them into parties.”

  “Oh. But I wasn’t really AWOL. She told me to leave.”

  “I think she meant for you to leave the situation alone, not to leave the area.”

  “But —”

  “Whitney, I need you to work in the gift shop.”

  His words stung. And it was so unfair. I’d rather clean toilets than work in the gift shop. Okay, I wouldn’t rather clean toilets. But still, it would be so boring in the gift shop.

  “You know, there is, like, a major party happening on Sunday,” I told him.

  “The Spencers’ party. Marci with an i. Yes, I’m aware of that.”

  “Am I going to help plan it?”

  He cleared his throat. “I think Charlotte and Lisa are working on that. Your responsibility now is the gift shop.”

  He had always been so nice to me, but right now, he seemed mean, unreasonable even. I almost told him that I quit, but part of me wondered if that’s what they wanted. Yes, knowing that Marci was coming to the park made me a little paranoid. Making me miserable seemed to be her purpose in life. But she didn’t know I worked here, so maybe I had just taken it too far when I’d walked away from the parties on Wednesday. I angled my chin defiantly and stood up. “Okay.”

  I headed for the door, stopped, and turned around. “Did Charlotte tell you about my ideas for the luau?”

  “Yes, but they’re a little more than we want to do for this event.”

  “If you don’t give Marci Spencer something special, she’s not going to be happy. Trust me, you don’t want an unhappy Marci.”

  “We’ll take care of things.”

  The tone of his voice dismissed me as clearly as if he’d waved good-bye. I was once again tempted to call David, tempted to go home. It wasn’t as though I needed the job. Besides, Dad was coming home this evening. I wanted to get an early start on spending some time with him.

  But I didn’t go home. Instead I headed on over to the souvenir and gift shop. The window display of the shop had sand along the bottom and a treasure chest on its side, with its top open and trinkets spilling out. Not bad. It looked like someone here actually had an imagination.

  I walked inside. It was a large shop. The square counter with a register on each side was in the middle of the building. Four people were inside the center, each manning a cash register. I counted six people wearing Paradise Falls uniforms standing around the shop. I knew their jobs weren’t so much to help customers as to make sure that none of them walked out with items that they’d “forgotten” to pay for. The park lost a lot of money because of shoplifting. I used to think that with most of the customers wearing bathing suits, shoplifting wouldn’t be a problem. I mean, really, where were they gonna hide stuff? But they managed to make off with a lot. Maybe it was because people often came in here with their tote bags in tow.

  A guy walked out of the back, spotted me, smiled, and hurried over. He was probably in college. He was tall and slender. I imagined that he could walk down the crowded aisles and never knock anything off the shelves.

  When he reached me, he said, “I’m Zach. You must be Whitney.”

  “Yep. I’m here to help out.”

  “Great. Just walk through the s
tore, keep an eye on the customers. Be aware of shoplifters.”

  “It really looks like you have enough people here,” I told him.

  “We never have enough. Never, never, never.” He turned around and clapped, his hands held high as though he was about to start dancing. He was very dramatic. “All right, everyone, this is Whitney. She’s going to help us out today.”

  I was really glad to hear the “today” part. Maybe that meant that today’s assignment was temporary — as in Mr. T had gone temporarily insane to think that I was going to do this for the remainder of the summer.

  The bells sounded, signaling the opening of the park. I strolled through the store, trying to look busy. Most people bought their souvenirs at the end of the day, although we also sold things that people usually forgot, like sunscreen, disposable cameras, and film. Of course, we charged double what people could buy the items for outside of the park. But there was no law against that. Quite honestly, absentmindedness came with a price.

  An hour into my shift, I was totally bored. A couple of the employees said hi to me, but I was the new kid in a store that had way too many workers. Customers were scarce. We did have someone come in looking for a toothbrush. Why she needed to brush her teeth while she was at a water park was beyond me. We didn’t carry toothbrushes. Oddly, we carried toothpaste. That, too, made no sense. I told myself that maybe the strange assortment of merchandise signaled I was needed here to get the inventory under control, but truthfully I just didn’t care about all the little things we carried in the store.

  Fearing that I was on the verge of dying of boredom, I walked over to the window and gazed out. A large smudge caused a glare, but I thought I saw —

  I went to the door and peered out. It was Jake.

  What was he doing in this section of the park with his ice-cream cart? Why wasn’t he working the parties?

  I glanced around the store. Zach wasn’t anywhere in sight and we had two customers — teenagers looking at souvenir T-shirts. I walked out of the shop.

  Jake grinned when he saw me. “Hey.”

  He was dipping ice cream for three young girls.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked.