The Season of You & Me by Robin Constantine

me.
    “Yeah, started last week.”
    “Cool. You like it?”
    “It’s fun, but it can get so crazy with benny season. How about you? I hear you’re working at the rec center again.”
    I laughed. Benny was slang we used for tourists, especially when they were acting like, um, tourists. “Yeah, I’m a counselor. So far, so good.”
    We sat in a second of now what do we talk about silence. It wasn’t like it was the first time I’d seen Shay since we broke up, but every time was hard, even though it had gotten a little easier too. She was the biggest what if I still tortured myself about. What if I hadn’t taken that dare and damaged myself forever? Would we still be together? Have our initials carved somewhere? Last I heard she was dating some college-guy douche canoe who’d been two years ahead of us in school.
    “So let me guess, Coke float and a soft pretzel?” Yep, that’s how long that had been my regular order. Even she remembered. She leaned in, fingers poised to punch in the price at the register.
    “You know what, make it a root beer float,” I said. Her eyebrows went up.
    “And can you put it in a larger cup with a lid on it? Makes it easier to carry.”
    “Sure thing.”
    It took a few minutes for my order to be ready. I wished I had more to say to her; small talk seemed so—small, especially after what we’d shared together. That was before, though. So much had changed. Shay appeared at the window again.
    “I can walk this over to your table if you want?”
    “No thanks. I got it,” I said, grabbing the float. The Styrofoam cup had little give and fit neatly into the large mesh side pocket of the backpack I had slung over my pushhandles. That was the only thing I liked using the handles for these days. When I got my next chair, I’d get one without them. At least they folded in when I didn’t need them for my backpack. She gave me my pretzel and change with a smile.
    “It was great seeing ya, Bry.”
    “Yeah, you too.”
    I was already half finished with my float by the time Wade and Tori arrived. They went up to the counter to order before sitting down. Wade came back juggling a drink, a hot dog, and two pretzels, while Tori had her usual small lime slush. I was at the head of the picnic table, like a king. #wheelchairperk. They each took a place on either side of me.
    “It’s about time you got here,” I said.
    “Are you okay?” Tori asked.
    “Yeah, why?”
    “We saw Shay. Didn’t know she worked here now.”
    “It’s fine. I’m fine. It doesn’t bother me to see her,” I said.
    “Good, because I don’t think I could give up Sip N’ Freeze,” Wade said. “But for you, buddy, I would.”
    “No need to do that.”
    “You are never going to freaking believe who Monty is,” Tori said.
    “Do we care?” I asked.
    “It is pretty funny,” Wade said before chowing down on half a hot dog in one bite.
    “Nick.”
    “Wait, no way, as in—”
    “Yes, my slacker twin. Leave it to him to find the one job on the island that is a grand total of one hour a week.”
    “Is it even that much?” I asked.
    “It’s too much if you ask me. Why do we need a mascot anyway? Knowing Mr. Beckett and his love of rounding up losers and rallying them to do something meaningful, he probably created the job for Nick. When he’s not in costume he’ll be doing janitorial duties. He gets a pointy stick and everything. He loves it, the weirdo. A no-brainer job with more time to slum and surf.”
    “Hey, if he’s happy doing it . . . ,” Wade said.
    “Who says your job is supposed to make you happy? Are either of you happy at Camp Manatee? I mean, like, really happy?”
    Wade shrugged. “It’s a decent gig. What’s not to like?”
    “Same,” I said. “Why? Aren’t you happy? You practically begged Owen for the cooking workshop.”
    “I know, and it’s cool, but it would be way cooler if I didn’t have Benny Barbie as my second-in-command. I miss Liv.”
    “Benny Barbie? Harsh,