Page 1 of The Sweet Spot

Wren

Summer

We’ve found a match!

Message From: Arlo Janvier

Subject: Hello, daughter!

Everything—the brisk, salty breeze, the frantic call of gulls, the sugary aroma of fried dough— disappears as I read the notification that’s just popped up on my phone. I read it so many times the words stop making sense.

Daughter?

Hellodaughter?

“Um, hi? Do you guys have swirl cones?”

There’s a pink-haired girl across the counter. She reminds me of an anime character I saw once. She elbows the tall, skinny guy at her side, who looks like he’s one bong rip away from a comatose nap. “What are you having? Chocolate? Strawberry?” She narrows her glittered eyes at me. “Do you guys do dipped cones?”

So. Many. Questions.Shoving away my own personal crisis, I beam a practiced grin of sunshine her way. “We sure do. Would you like one?”

“Actually, can I just get a cherry Icee?” she asks, tilting her head.

“Icee machine is on the fritz. Sorry.” Giving her an apologetic smile, I point down the boardwalk. “There are other places around here that have them, though.”

“Oh.” She pauses, gaze drifting back to the Sweet Spot’s menu as she taps her teeth with a long, hot pink nail that matches her hair. “I’ll just take a vanilla cone, then. Dipped.”

“Sure thing.” I glance at Skinny. “Anything for you?”

“Wren,” Rodrigo yells from the back. “Why is the Icee machine dripping? I thought you said Ronnie fixed it!”

“I’ll take a chocolate,” says Skinny, eyes skittering lazily over the menu above my head. “Extra, extra big. No dip.”

“Wren!” Rodrigo’s tremulous voice is right behind me this time, accompanied by a dreamy wave of cologne. Sometimes I pass by extra close just to sniff him.

Smiling politely at our customers, I turn and snatch two waffle cones from the holder. “Ronnie did fix it,” I murmur, sliding past my adorable, but neurotic, manager. “I have no idea why it’s dripping.”

“Pero, didn’t you notice?” he asks, thumbs flying over his phone as he follows me back to the counter. “It’s pretty hard to miss.”

“It’s early. I haven’t sold any Icees yet.” I hand the plain chocolate ice cream cone over and nod at Anime Girl. “Dipped cone coming right up.”

Rodrigo disappears again, probably to eviscerate Ronnie-the-handyman via text, and I procure my first dipped cone—it’s an art form—of the day. Today’s weather forecast promised clouds and rain this afternoon, but for now, the boardwalk’s as bright and chipper as ever. Behind us, the gem-like blue of the Pacific shimmers and sparkles as a handful of surfers ride mid-sized waves.

Anime Girl barely says thank you as I hand off her picture-perfect ice cream, then she and her buddy wander off, absorbed by the mid-morning crowd in seconds. It’s the first Saturday of summer break, so the Santa Cruz boardwalk is the place to be. By the time I leave for the day, it’ll be near impossible to get the sounds of the boardwalk—screams of glee, laughter, top 40 hits—out of my head.

You’d think I’d be able to hear the ocean, as close as we are to it, but sometimes the boardwalk is just too loud.

My thoughts return to the notifications from Kith&Kin. I didn’t tell Mom I was submitting my DNA. She’s already suspicious of genealogy tech in general, convinced the government is using our info for more nefarious purposes. I mean, maybe they are.

But also, I didn’t want her thinking I was looking for my dad. Because Iwasn’t, not specifically—she’s enough parent for me. Swabbing my cheek and mailing the result to some suspect company with a coupon was equal parts summertime boredom and curiosity. Who am I? I know only that I’m half Greek from her side of the family.

But now it’s matched me to some dude named Arlo who just mightactuallybe my father and there’s no one I want more than my mother.

Before I can freak out any worse, my phone vibrates silently in my pocket. Rodrigo doesn’t like when we keep our phones on us, but I loathe feeling disconnected. I need to be able to reach my people.

Sure enough, it’s my best friend Saira texting a picture of the beach at sunrise. The caption readsyou should be herefollowed by a sobbing emoji.

Where was I this morning at sunrise? Oh yeah, drooling on my pillow…probably dreaming of beaches at sunrise.I rub at my chest, trying to tamp down the envy as I respond.

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