wall: TOMMY SULLIVAN IS A —”
I cut her off before she could say it. “Yeah. I know. They’re still trying to raise the money to sandblast it off.”
“Is that why it’s still there?” Shaniqua shook her head. “I always wondered. They could paint over it….”
“You can’t really paint over Day-Glo orange,” I said. “Imean, unless you use black. And that’s not one of the school colors.”
Shaniqua wrinkled her nose. “Well, it sure looks tacky. I heard that gym was brand-new, too, when it happened. How could someone do something so stupid?”
I shrugged, suddenly feeling as if, instead of being underwater in the ocean, the ocean was inside me—cold and vast and very, very lonely. “You know how kids can be.”
“That poor guy,” Shaniqua said, gazing after Tommy’s departing backside. Which, can I just say, was every bit as good-looking as his front side? “What’d he do, to have something like that spray-painted about him on the side of the school?”
“Miss!” cried the old folks at my tour bus tables.
“Um,” I said, as I started toward them. Saved by the tourists. That was a first. “Duty calls!”
Okay.
Okay, so I’m in trouble. Big, big trouble. Tommy Sullivan knows about me and Eric Fluteley. Tommy Sullivan— Tommy Sullivan , of all people—saw me with Eric Fluteley.
And okay, whatever, we were just kissing. That’s all I’ve ever done with any guy, including my steady boyfriend of four years.
But that won’t matter if Tommy spills the beans. People won’t care. I will still be the girl who cheated on a Quahog. Not just any Quahog, but Seth Turner, the brother of Jake Turner, the most beloved Quahog of alltime…the very same Quahog whose promising career was cut so brutally short by none other than…
…Tommy Sullivan.
“Katie, I hope it was okay that I put that guy in the corner booth,” Jill said, on her way to seat a middle-aged couple at a two-top by the water. “I asked him if he was a Quahog, and he said he was.”
I had to laugh at that—albeit sarcastically. I mean, Tommy may be out to ruin my life to get me back for ruining his…
…But at least he’s still got his sense of humor.
“Yeah, Jill,” I said. “Not so much.”
“Seriously?” Jill looked stunned. “But he’s so cute. I just assumed…he told me he goes to Eastport.”
What? Nice. Good thing to know I’m not the only liar in town for a change.
“Jill,” I said. “That guy moved away from here four years ago.”
“Wow,” Jill said. “Well, I won’t seat him in the VIP booth again if he ever comes back.”
Wait…what was I doing?
“Oh, no,” I said. “If he comes back, you can totally seat him in the VIP booth.” Because if Seth and those guys ever catch him there, they’ll pound him, and my problems will be solved….
No. That’s just wrong. I can’t count on my boyfriend to get me out of this one. I got myself into it, and I was going to have to get myself out.
Which meant, first and foremost, calling Seth at myearliest opportunity, and telling him not to come meet me after work for our usual makeout session before I pedal home.
“Are you sure, babe?” Seth sounded concerned. And why wouldn’t he, since I’d told him that the reason I couldn’t meet him was that I thought I was coming down with a mild case of e. coli ?
“Totally,” I said into the phone, trying to sound like someone suffering from a bacillus in their blood. “I don’t want you to catch it from me.”
Except of course e. coli can only be contracted through contaminated food or water. But Seth isn’t exactly in AP Bio, like I am. Which isn’t to say he’s dumb. His talents just lie in regions other than the academic.
“So let’s just take a raincheck on tonight,” I said. I was crouched behind the soda station, so Kevin, the assistant manager—who, in the way of all assistant managers, was an even bigger tyrant than Peggy, the actual manager—wouldn’t catch me on the
I cut her off before she could say it. “Yeah. I know. They’re still trying to raise the money to sandblast it off.”
“Is that why it’s still there?” Shaniqua shook her head. “I always wondered. They could paint over it….”
“You can’t really paint over Day-Glo orange,” I said. “Imean, unless you use black. And that’s not one of the school colors.”
Shaniqua wrinkled her nose. “Well, it sure looks tacky. I heard that gym was brand-new, too, when it happened. How could someone do something so stupid?”
I shrugged, suddenly feeling as if, instead of being underwater in the ocean, the ocean was inside me—cold and vast and very, very lonely. “You know how kids can be.”
“That poor guy,” Shaniqua said, gazing after Tommy’s departing backside. Which, can I just say, was every bit as good-looking as his front side? “What’d he do, to have something like that spray-painted about him on the side of the school?”
“Miss!” cried the old folks at my tour bus tables.
“Um,” I said, as I started toward them. Saved by the tourists. That was a first. “Duty calls!”
Okay.
Okay, so I’m in trouble. Big, big trouble. Tommy Sullivan knows about me and Eric Fluteley. Tommy Sullivan— Tommy Sullivan , of all people—saw me with Eric Fluteley.
And okay, whatever, we were just kissing. That’s all I’ve ever done with any guy, including my steady boyfriend of four years.
But that won’t matter if Tommy spills the beans. People won’t care. I will still be the girl who cheated on a Quahog. Not just any Quahog, but Seth Turner, the brother of Jake Turner, the most beloved Quahog of alltime…the very same Quahog whose promising career was cut so brutally short by none other than…
…Tommy Sullivan.
“Katie, I hope it was okay that I put that guy in the corner booth,” Jill said, on her way to seat a middle-aged couple at a two-top by the water. “I asked him if he was a Quahog, and he said he was.”
I had to laugh at that—albeit sarcastically. I mean, Tommy may be out to ruin my life to get me back for ruining his…
…But at least he’s still got his sense of humor.
“Yeah, Jill,” I said. “Not so much.”
“Seriously?” Jill looked stunned. “But he’s so cute. I just assumed…he told me he goes to Eastport.”
What? Nice. Good thing to know I’m not the only liar in town for a change.
“Jill,” I said. “That guy moved away from here four years ago.”
“Wow,” Jill said. “Well, I won’t seat him in the VIP booth again if he ever comes back.”
Wait…what was I doing?
“Oh, no,” I said. “If he comes back, you can totally seat him in the VIP booth.” Because if Seth and those guys ever catch him there, they’ll pound him, and my problems will be solved….
No. That’s just wrong. I can’t count on my boyfriend to get me out of this one. I got myself into it, and I was going to have to get myself out.
Which meant, first and foremost, calling Seth at myearliest opportunity, and telling him not to come meet me after work for our usual makeout session before I pedal home.
“Are you sure, babe?” Seth sounded concerned. And why wouldn’t he, since I’d told him that the reason I couldn’t meet him was that I thought I was coming down with a mild case of e. coli ?
“Totally,” I said into the phone, trying to sound like someone suffering from a bacillus in their blood. “I don’t want you to catch it from me.”
Except of course e. coli can only be contracted through contaminated food or water. But Seth isn’t exactly in AP Bio, like I am. Which isn’t to say he’s dumb. His talents just lie in regions other than the academic.
“So let’s just take a raincheck on tonight,” I said. I was crouched behind the soda station, so Kevin, the assistant manager—who, in the way of all assistant managers, was an even bigger tyrant than Peggy, the actual manager—wouldn’t catch me on the
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