Sweeter Than Summer

2 | carrot cake

"First rule: no nail polish."

Abby looked down at her chipped, black nails and scowled. "Seriously?"

"Seriously. But today I'll let it slide."

Abby – not Abigail, I had been corrected – had been hired, and I found her waiting outside the door to Franny's when I had walked up, ready to open at eleven. I jangled my keys nervously in my hand, wondering if her look of distaste was directed at me or her situation, or both.

She got off the curb when I approached. "You're January," she said a matter-of-factly.

"That's me."

"The guy on the phone said you'd train me."

"Sure thing."

But so far, training had just consisted of outfitting her in the uniform – a magenta and teal polo shirt, so we would be easily identifiable, as well as matching the walls and the trim. Y'know, camouflage.

"The second rule, no swearing," I continued.

Abby scowled even harder, if that was possible. From the back room, right on cue, there was a deafening bang and a long stream of "shit shit shit."

"That's Frank," I explained. "He gets to swear because his dad owns Franny's, and therefore he can do anything and still keep his job."

Frank emerged from the back room, rubbing the back of his neck. "That's why, usually, I don't do anything."

"And when he does, he swears about it."

"Exactly."

Abby nodded, like maybe, she was comprehending. "Who else works here?"

"Me, Frank, you've already met Poppy," I ticked them off on my fingers as I went.

"The Asian chick?"

"Her family is from Korea," I said, in lieu of a simple 'yes' or 'no,' "then there's Rosa, and Frank Senior, he's the big boss. Annaliese is Frank's mom, she does all the finances. She works at the bank with my dad."

Abby seemed disinterested, looking at her phone, even though she was the one who asked the question. But when I stopped, she looked up, so at least I knew she was listening.

"Logan is your age, he washes dishes. Then there's Veronica, Wyatt, and Carter. And you. That's it."

"Why'd you say that?" Abby grunted.

"Say what?"

"That Logan is my age."

"Don't worry," Frank piped up. He was being completely unproductive, lining up all the pennies from the register into one long line. "She's not trying to set you up. Logan is even more gay than I am."

"I just thought it would be nice if you guys wanted to become friends."

"I'm only here for the summer," Abby said sharply, "I'm not interested in friends. Besides, I'm fifteen, not five. I can decide that stuff on my own."

"Your loss. We're a fun bunch," Frank told her.

The door swung open, letting in a fresh gust of warm, summer air. All three of us looked up, expecting a customer, but instead it was just the last employee scheduled for our shift.

"Hi Wyatt!" I called out.

He looked surprised. "Hey."

"This is Abby, she's new," I explained.

She had gone back to looking at her phone, but when I said her name, she raised her hand in a flimsy wave.

Wyatt just sighed passive aggressively. Sadly, this was typical.