Julia shrugged. “Aunt Fae’s purse. She won’t miss it. Now go get a soda or something, okay? You’re driving me crazy.”
Hannah ambled across the grass toward the snack pavilion and took her place in line. She surveyed the crowd: teenagers and small children being chased by harried parents. Girls lounging like Julia, skin plump and sparkling in the midday sun. Huddled groups of girls being eyed by a line of four boys. One of them laughed and tossed a blue playground ball in their direction. The girl squealed and batted the ball back, but it rolled and came to rest at Hannah’s feet. Gingerly, she kicked it with her toe until it rolled back down the hill.
“Hiya, can I help you?”
She was next. She surveyed the board above her head. “Um, can I get a Coke and an order of fries?”
“Sure. Pepsi okay?” The boy behind the counter had reddish-brown curly hair and an impish smile.
“Yeah, that’s fine.” Hannah didn’t smile back. She moved to the side and let the boy take other orders. After a few moments, the wooden screen door on the side swung open, and the boy emerged holding a paper boat filled with fries and a fountain soda.
“Here ya go!” He was cheerier than he should have been. He was working at the hottest place at the pool, for God’s sake. He held the boat out to her, and as she brought her hand up to retrieve it, her fingertips brushed his hand. A weird little jolt zinged up her arm, and the boy suddenly let go. Fries scattered at her feet. She managed to hold on to the soda but jumped back, the liquid sloshing out all over the front of her old red bathing suit.
“Oh, what the hell, I’m so sorry.” The boy bent down to pick up the paper bowl and runaway fries. Hannah knelt beside him. “You know, it’s not the first time I’ve done that. Not even the first time this week.” He gave her a funny smile, half-raised on his left side, and she realized suddenly that he was older. Sixteen or seventeen, maybe? But still.
“You’d think they’d fire you,” Hannah grumbled but grinned back, teasing. She could flirt too. Take that, Julia.
“Nah, not too many people want to work the fryers on the hottest days of the year with a pool only feet away. Besides, then they’d have to give me a job as a lifeguard.” He pointed to his arm, pale and freckled. “Everyone would go blind. The place would go out of business.”
“Oooor else they could just, I don’t know, fire you for good?” They were both still kneeling, teasing.
“Nah, my dad’s the owner,” the boy said, standing up. He dusted off his shorts and raised the boat of dirty fries in her direction. “Take a seat. I’ll be right back, okay?” Hannah sat at one of ten wooden picnic tables under the pavilion.
He returned five minutes later with a new, hot order of fries and a Popsicle for her trouble. He parked next to her, straddling the bench.
“Can someone really own the public pool?” Hannah asked, unwrapping the ice cream first and taking a bite. Creamsicle was her favorite. How did he know?
“Sure. I think a lot of them are owned. It’s a business like anything else.” He paused and plucked a fry from her plate. “I’m Wyatt, by the way.”
“Hi, Wyatt, I’m Hannah.” She swatted at his hand. “So first you spill my food; now you steal it?”
“I told you about my dad, right? I do anything I want around here.” He nudged her with his elbow and laughed. “So listen: I know everyone in Rockwell, and I don’t know you. What’s the deal with that?”
“Everyone? I doubt that.”
“No, it’s true. There are only about two thousand people in this town. I’m related to half of them. But I’ve never seen you before, and I gotta be honest—people don’t just move to Rockwell. It’s not . . . a highly desirable place to live.” His voice had an edge of bitterness, but it could have been Hannah’s imagination.
“I’m staying with my aunt and uncle at the top of the hill. My sister and I come every summer, actually.” She picked imaginary dirt from her fries and kept her head low, avoiding Wyatt’s gaze. His intensity made her nervous, which was rare. People never made her nervous.
“You mean Brackenhill?” Wyatt’s eyes widened. Hannah realized they weren’t brown, as she’d originally thought, but brown