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Carter and I follow her to a booth in the back. I notice that there’s only a few other tables with people at them, and they all turn to look at us as we pass. I guess newcomers are strange here before the summer season really starts. It’s sort of like that in Harborview, though much less intense since we’ve got a few thousand people to their sixty.
I glance at the menu and all I can do is salivate. And my stomach starts growling. Because holy shit, Shaky Jane’s has it all. Lobster rolls, clam rolls, fried clam strips, flounder, baked beans, fries, clam chowder, and a hundred other items. I guess when you’re the only joint in town, you have to serve it all. And with the season incoming, I’m willing to bet most of this is in stock.
I quickly decide on a clam roll with a side of fries and a Caesar salad with chicken. And a coke. And possibly a milkshake.
“What are you having?” I ask Carter.
“I’m trying to decide between ordering twelve lobster rolls and blowing all my savings, or just asking them to bring me one of everything.”
“Fuck,” I say. “I don’t have my wallet.” Carter’s comment has reminded me of the fact that I hiked Isle North with just my pink sneakers, sweatshirt, phone, chapstick, and water bottle. Not a credit card in sight.
“No worries. I have mine. Cash, too. Which I think might be necessary in a place like this.”
“I’ll pay you back.”
“No you won’t, because I won’t take your money. Not for something as essential as food.”
My insides warm at that. Over the last few days, Carter has taken care of me at every turn, offering me his food, his coat, and crucially, the bed. And now is no different. Even if it’s just a routine kindness, from him it shocks me. It wouldn’t have back when we were friends, but it does now.
When we were in high school together, he always had this way of making me feel special. He’d listen to what I had to say in class intently, and he always chose me for his team in gym class. At parties he’d find me hanging out awkwardly in a corner, too shy to mingle, and he’d keep me company, drawing me out of my shell and making me laugh.
He’s always been so damn kind.
And now it makes me wary. Because what’s going to happen if I get used to it again? What happens when we’re back in Harborview, once he’s gotten me to forgive him? He said if he didn’t get me to forgive him by the time we were back home, he’d leave me alone. But I’m not sure I can handle that, not after getting to know his kindness all over again.
The preteen waitress who must work here after school bounds over to our table excitedly.
“You must be the hikers! We’re all so happy you made it to the town okay. There was talk of trying to hike in to get you, but Captain Jones said you were staying in the old birding cabin near the cliffs.” She gives us a huge smile as she says this, braces on full display.
“Um,” I say, slightly overwhelmed.
“That’s exactly right,” Carter says. “I’m Carter, and this is Angela.”
“I’m Minnie. Short for Minnow.”
“That’s a good name,” he says, in all seriousness. “It’s unique.”
“Thanks,” she says and blushes so hard her face is as red as the lobsters decorating the kids half of the laminated menus.
Minnie-short-for-Minnow is now staring at Carter like he just hung the moon.
Same, Minnie, same.
She opens her mouth to say more, but just then, my stomach lets out a table-rattling rumble of hunger.
Carter tips his head back and laughs, the sound erupting from him. “Well that’s one way to say you’re ready to order, Angel.”
Minnie’s eyes dart between us, and I know that she’s picked up on the nickname he’s given me, and the fact that it made me blush and fidget uncomfortably. Teenage girls are well versed in reading signs and signals.
“We’ve basically only eaten protein bars for two days,” I explain to Minnie.
“And blueberry muffins,” Carter offers. “But we’d really like…” He pauses, stares at the menu, and that rattles off items in rapid succession, including two lobster rolls, fries, and chowder, and a few other things.
I give Minnie my order, and ask for our food to come out in waves as soon as it’s ready. I’m starting to feel lightheaded,either from lack of food or from hanging out with Carter, but either way, I need to eat.
“Staring down the kitchen won’t make them cook it faster,” Carter says, following my gaze, which is pointed at the swinging double doors in the back that we’ve seen food come out of.
“You never know, it just might. Though this place seems like it runs on its own rules.” I jerk my head vaguely to the hostess stand.
