Fan Girl by Marla Miniano

okay. Happy birthday…” he checks her name tag. “Summer.”
    “Thanks,”
she says, beaming. She notices his shirt—an old, worn-out Violet Reaction
band tee that is a couple of inches too short for him. Maybe the universe is
trying to tell her something. She smiles. “Nice shirt.”
    “What,
this?” He looks down, embarrassed. “I’ve had it for a while, obviously. I used
to be such a fanboy, back when I was in college.”
    “Used
to?” she asks.
    “Well,
yeah,” he says. “At that time, everyone loved them, right? I wonder what
happened to them.”
    “They
split.” She shrugs. “Things changed. They all had their own lives to live.”
    The
boy seems to debate with himself over something, then says, “I’m David.”
    “Hi,
David,” Summer says. They shake hands. And when she gives David his twelve
bacon cheeseburgers, ten chili cheese fries, one whole apple pie, and twelve
double chocolate milkshakes, she says, “I bet your sister will be very happy.”
    “I’m
sure she will be,” he says, looking around. “She’s supposed to be around here
somewhere. Cute girl with long hair, charming but kind of bratty? Her name’s
Kylie.”
    “Oh,
Kylie,” Summer says taking in the striking resemblance and, thinking, So
that’s why you look so familiar. “She’s in the kitchen,
making a career out of playing Little Miss Sous Chef with my nephew. We’re not
paying her for overtime, by the way.”
    When
David laughs like this is the funniest thing in the world, Summer feels
flustered. “Let me get her for you,” she mumbles, ducking out of sight.
    When
Kylie emerges from the kitchen with Nick right behind her, she rushes over to
David, hugs his legs and says, “Can we please invite Summer and Nick to my
party? Please, please, please?”
    “It’s your party,” David tells her, bending down to take
her bubblegum pink backpack and slinging it over one shoulder, not looking even
the least bit self-conscious. “You can invite whoever you want.” He glances at
Summer, a question on his face. “But Summer might have other plans. It’s her
birthday tomorrow.”
    “She
doesn’t have other plans!” Kylie declares. “She’s coming with us.”
    “Yes!”
Nick butts in. “She’s coming with us!”
    David
laughs again—he seems like the kind of guy who is generous with his
laughter—and turns to Summer. “Well? You heard them. Can you please join
us?”
    “I’d
love to,” Summer says. “Nick and I have to leave by around eight, though. We’re
bringing his parents dinner.”
    “I
can take you guys home,” David offers. “But first, you have one wild party to
attend.”
    Kylie
and Nick run ahead of them towards David’s white SUV ,
clamber into the backseat, stretch out their stubby legs as if to say, There’s
no more room here , and flash them mischievous,
self-satisfied smiles. David shakes his head, places the pink backpack beside
Kylie’s feet, and holds the passenger door open for Summer, looking at her like
maybe he could see something in her beyond the greasy ponytail and the stained
diner uniform and the chewed-up fingernails.
    As he
revs up the engine, a Violet Reaction song from five years ago called “Brand
New” starts playing on the radio. David grins, looking amused. “I have a
confession: I used to dream I’d wake up and be Scott Carlton. He was just so
bad-ass, you know?”
    Summer
laughs. “I know exactly what you’re talking about. I used to be their biggest
fan. I used to dream I’d wake up and magically become the love of Scott’s
life.”
    “Used
to?”
    She
smiles. “Used to. Not anymore.”
    “Why
not?” he asks. They stop at an intersection, barely missing the yellow light.
    She
looks straight ahead for several seconds. “I guess I gave up on him.” She’s not
sure what he’d think of this, or what he’d think of her after hearing this.
“Was that wrong?”
    “Probably
not,” he says, meeting her eyes. “Sometimes, you’re allowed to give up