Stay Sweet(38)

Cate gave Amelia a nudge. “Come on, Amelia, it would be so much more fun to work at the lake! We could go for a swim on our break.”

Amelia climbed aboard. The inside of the food truck wasn’t in much better shape than the outside. And it definitely wasn’t set up for ice cream. There was a long grill, and underneath, two old propane tanks. Also mouse poop everywhere. Everything that had been chrome was now rusted. The exhaust fan over her head was thick with fuzz. She touched one of the walls with her finger. It felt slick, yellow with old grease, like honeycomb wax.

Cate followed her inside. Her head flinching back slightly, she said, “Grady, I hope you don’t think we’re cleaning this thing.”

But Grady didn’t respond. His eyes were on Amelia, and his expression betrayed his disappointment in her lack of excitement.

“How much did you pay for this?” she asked.

“Not that much,” Grady insisted, though he avoided her eyes as he said it. “And it was the only one for sale in the state!”

“Does it even run?”

“The guy who sold it to me said he’s pretty sure all it needs is a tune-up.” Amelia saw, over Grady’s shoulder, the tow truck man roll his eyes. “It’s a good idea,” Grady said to Amelia, trying to get her on his side. “You’ll see.” He held out his phone to the girls. “Can someone take my picture? I want to send this to my dad.”

By that afternoon, two mechanics had already been over and given Grady estimates. He crumpled them both up and threw them in the office trash can, saying he was sure he could do better.

Amelia expected to feel more victorious than she did.

Other than those disruptions, the traditions of summers at the stand are back in full force. Different games and pranks, always done in good fun, passed down through the years. One that began while Amelia was here—if not last summer, then the one before, she’s not positive—is that if there’s a closed door, there’s a good chance someone is hiding behind it, waiting to jump out. Last summer, Cate nearly killed Heather when she sprang up from the backseat of Heather’s car, but then Heather got her back that very same night, jumping off the roof when Amelia and Cate were closing. Sometimes scares happen in front of customers. Amelia once tucked herself into an empty box on the floor near one of the service windows, and when Britnee was about to hand over two cones, she sprang up and screamed. Britnee smashed both cones into the closed service window.

Amelia hopes that’s not why Britnee chose to stay at Sephora.

Since there are no newbies yet this summer, some chores are falling by the wayside. Namely, the cleaning of the bathroom. But no one has stepped up to pick up the slack.

That’s why, on Wednesday, Amelia is on her hands and knees, wearing yellow rubber gloves, cleaning the bathroom for the second time since the stand opened this summer. The big mop bucket holds the door open. Cate walks up, leans against the doorframe, and folds her arms. “Well, here’s something I never thought I’d see.”

“What’s that?” Amelia says, wiping down the toilet.

“A Head Girl cleaning the bathroom.”

“I don’t mind. . . .” Or, more truthfully, Amelia doesn’t feel comfortable asking Jen, last year’s newbie. She already put in her time. She isn’t a newbie anymore.

“You can’t give yourself bathroom duty all summer. I won’t allow it. Has Grady said when you can hire newbies? We’re down three girls! That’s a whole shift!”

There’s something to what Cate is saying. Yes, they need to hire more girls. But in the meantime, everyone should be required to take a turn.

The fairest way Amelia can think up?

A chore chart.

She makes one on her break that day. A Sunday-through-Saturday grid with separate Post-it notes for each girl, so she can rotate the names around. This way, everyone knows who’s responsible for what newbie chores each shift. And Amelia won’t have to personally seek the girls out to let them know when it’s their turn.

When she hangs up the chore chart, Cate is not thrilled.

“Come on, Amelia. Are we twelve?” Cate whines, and tries to grab her Post-it note and take it off the chart. “Plus, we’re seniors! You and I shouldn’t have to do this at all.”

Amelia sees the girls on the windows quickly busy themselves, but she knows they’re listening. Rather than fight about it, Amelia takes Cate’s Post-it, shifting all the other girls up and putting herself and then Cate last in the order. Hopefully they’ll have newbies in place before her turn comes up.

*

It’s around eight thirty in the evening, and she’s just scraped the last scoop of Home Sweet Home out of the drum in the scooping cabinet. It’s been drizzling for most of the evening. There’s no one in Amelia’s line, and Cate’s not too busy either, leisurely chatting up a couple visiting from out of town whom she’s already served scoops of chocolate in waffle cones. Amelia closes her window, drops her scooper into the wash well, and jogs out back to throw the empty drum into the dumpster.

Walking back in, she puts on the purple ski jacket, grabs the tally clipboard, and heads into the freezer, intending to grab a new drum and also do a quick stock check. The girls should be keeping up with this every time they take out a new drum—marking what’s being taken, as well as shifting everything to the right to create empty space on the left for the new tubs, so that nothing is sitting too long in the freezer. Every few days, Molly would come and grab the tally sheet, so she knew which flavors she needed to restock.