Pig-Out Inn by Lois Ruby

‘perky,’” Stephanie confessed. “Perky, bouncy, they go hand in hand. And her hair’s not the only thing that bounces. It makes me positively nauseous.”
    I handed her a carry-out sack. “Here, have a barf bag.”
    She grabbed one of the cheap, bristly napkins we kept in the holders—I mean, these napkins could scrape off the top layer of flesh—and she wiped the tears off her face. Blush and dripping mascara went with the tears. “On the other hand, if I’m not there for the All Star game, Emily could really get a strangle-hold, and Wayne will be lost forever.” This was enough to soak two more napkins. I pulled out a stack as thick as a Viva sponge.
    â€œWayne Firestone sinks into the bog,” I pronounced it as if I were reading an Eagle and Beacon headline. “Starting first baseman’s head visible only for seconds before he is sucked into the gurgling mud. Implicated in the drowning is fifteen-year-old Emily Ryan, described by classmates as perky. Wayne Firestone is survived by Stephanie Fisher, waitress at the world famous Pig-Out Inn of Spinner, Kansas.”
    Stephanie giggled and sort of brightened a bit, with her face all streaked in about three different shades. “This is really dumb, isn’t it?”
    â€œYeah, really dumb.”
    â€œBut I’m part of a long tradition. Cleopatra and Juliet and all.”
    â€œThey’re dead. I’m not sure, were they ever really people?”
    â€œOh yes. I went to Shakespeare-in-the-Park last summer and saw at least one of them, I forget which. Anyway, if they weren’t real, they should have been.”
    As far as I was concerned the whole issue of Stephanie’s leaving was decided right then and there, but I guess she wasn’t sure until the next Saturday, when something happened to convince her.
    The Army came for its usual weekly siege. There were only eighteen of them this time wanting cheeseburgers and fries and shakes on the double. But one of them was destined to be the new Wayne Firestone.
    Oh, I’d come far since the first invasion. I could carry plates of cheeseburgers all the way up my arm, four at a time, and I could do milkshakes without needing to be hosed down afterwards. Stephanie was no help at all, though. She latched on to the youngest guy in the group and delivered one-on-one waitress service. He got his order first, of course, and then she surrounded his burger plate with a whole detail of regular mustard, hot mustard, ketchup, barbecue sauce, and steak sauce. I came by to grab a couple of the bottles for the other customers and recognized this guy, mostly because he seemed so young and so unmilitary, sitting on a stool two away from the nearest soldier. “You’re the guy who left the retainer a few weeks ago, aren’t you?” I asked. It was funny to see the kid blush almost purple. “I’ve got it under here somewhere. I stuck it in a cottage cheese container.” I groped around under the counter.
    â€œOh, it’s okay. I don’t need it anymore. The orthodontist says I’m good as done.” He pulled his lips back and showed us his new, improved bite, like a cocker spaniel’s. Stephanie was awed. I thought, here’s a guy she could really sink her teeth into.
    I flew around the cafe, taking care of all the customers and making snide remarks at Stephanie. “If it’s not too much trouble, cut the apple pie, will you?” and “Never hire a waitress from the city if you expect the coffeepot to stay filled.” She paid no attention because she was zeroing in on the guy, who turned out to be a buck private in basic training named Eddie Perini. I overheard scraps of their conversation as I dashed around attending to the guys who were already on seconds and thirds.
    â€œHow come you’re in the Army?” I heard her ask, and I leaned over to catch the answer.
    Eddie turned his pockets inside