Page 40 of Alice & Meg: Summer Vacation
That’s when Christy returned, arms loaded with plates.Behind her came two more servers, each carrying trays full of golden-brown everything.
The table was covered with dishes stacked sky-high, eggs dripping with cheese, bacon curled like ribbons, and fruit piled like artwork.Everyone started digging in, passing plates, and stealing bites.We had each ordered our own meals, but we wanted to try everything.
“Try this,” I said and slid a forkful of my pancakes toward Alice.
She took the bite and moaned.“Holy crap.This could end wars.”
“You’ve gotta try this cinnamon glaze,” Raven said, handing over her French toast.
“Gimme one of those sausage links,” Clash said, reaching across Lo.
There was no such thing as personal space or separate meals, just one long, loud, shared breakfast.
When we were so full we couldn’t move, we finally paid the bill.As we rolled out of the restaurant, everyone groaned about needing a nap, and I tugged them toward the Paul Bunyan statue.“Photo time!Get over here!”
We all lined up—me, Alice, Greta, Cyn, Adley, Wendy, Raven, and Reva—posing in front of Paul and Babe the Blue Ox.Lo took the picture, and we all cheered when he managed to get one where all of our eyes were open.
“Alright,” I said.“You youngins’ head to the amusement park, and we’ll go check out the magic show.”
We split, ready to see what the day had in store for us.
Two more days.We were going to make the most of every second.
Alice
I was not young.
Not by a long shot.
Neither was Wrecker.And I didn’t know what I had been thinking when I said I wanted to come ride the roller coasters and all the other gravity-defying contraptions the younger crowd still found thrilling.My adventurous spirit hadn’t quite aligned with the reality of my aging body.As a result, Wrecker and I had spent the last hour with our butts parked on a sun-warmed bench at Mt.Olympus, watching the kids scream themselves hoarse from a distance.
Reva, Hero, Greta, Bear, and Adley had bolted for some rickety old wooden roller coaster the second we got through the gate, leaving Wrecker and me behind with nothing but a half-empty water bottle and each other’s company.
“I fear I may have made a mistake,” I confessed and leaned against Wrecker’s side with a groan.
He chuckled low in his chest, the sound vibrating against my cheek as he pulled me in tighter.“Getting old, babe?”
I sighed.“I prefer to think of it as selectively energetic.”
Wrecker’s hand came to rest on my knee, his thumb rubbeing slow circles.“We may be getting older, but we still know how to have a good time.We just have to pace ourselves.”
I looked up at him with a smirk.“You mean nap and snack our way through the day?”
“Damn right.”
Right then, someone walked past us carrying a funnel cake the size of a hubcap, with powdered sugar dusting the air behind them like a sugary snowstorm.My stomach perked up, interested.
And then another scent drifted by, warm and buttery, like popcorn.A hint of chocolate.Maybe cinnamon, too.
I looked at Wrecker.He looked at me.
“We may not be able to hang with the youngins on the rides,” I said slowly, “but I can totally throw down with some popcorn, funnel cake, and milkshakes.”
Wrecker stood and held out his hand.“Let’s do Mt.Olympus our way, babe.”
He hauled me up and wrapped an arm around my waist as we wandered off in the direction of that divine scent trail.Abandoning roller coasters for fried dough and ice cream seemed like the best idea.Honestly, it felt like the most adult decision I’d made all week.
Meg
