Page 31 of Rebel Summer

“Back to work.”

“I thought you were going to help me.”

He raised an eyebrow. “What made you think that?”

“I don’t know what I’m doing. And you…”—I motioned toward the Legos with my hands—“must love Legos.”

He smiled, a wolf on the scent. “I do love Legos. But some of us don’t have the luxury of playing all day.”

“Dax!” I yelped when he started moving again. “What do I do?” I hated that my voice was laced in panic, but I couldn’t help it. My brain was shutting down. The sheer number of Legos would be overwhelming to even the biggest Lego enthusiast, not to mention someone who had never really done them before.

Though I could have imagined it, a faint shadow of compassion crossed his face as he took me in, probably looking like Albert Einstein in a panic, hair and eyes wild in frantic alarm.

“If it were me, I’d dump the Legos out and start organizing them by type before you crack that book open. Or else you’ll be searching for each piece for days.”

He took his leave, calling out his final parting shot before he left the room.

“Don’t forget to clock out when you’re finished.”

After a moment, I dumped a pile of Legos onto the ground and began looking for similar shapes. I suppose little boys everywhere might be jealous of an assignment like this, but other than the fact that I did feel bad about destroying it, being locked away by myself to build a Lego car of this magnitude felt like the worst kind of torture.

Biology Class

Day 9

“What are your plans after graduation?” I asked Dax, trying hard to be so pleasant and friendly that he wouldn’t overthink the fact that he was the one holding the scalpel.

“Not much.”

“What does that mean?”

He leaned forward to stare into the rodent’s underbelly. “Get over here, you gotta see this.”

I leaned forward, plugging my nose with two fingers and keeping my eyes closed firmly. “What is it?”

He laughed lowly, a deep, breathy sound that sent a small ray of light into my belly. It always happened like that when he laughed. Though I hated my reaction to it, there I was, trying not to smile.

“Open your eyes, or I’ll bring him to meet you.”

I jerked back, eyes open and fully aware of the grin on his face before it disappeared.

“If you’re not careful, I’ll tell everyone exactly how many teeth you have,” I said.

His brow furrowed. “You’ve counted my teeth?”

“No. It just means that I’ve seen your smile and probably nobody else ever has.”

“Why didn’t you just say that, then? Why be the creepy teeth girl?”

Blushing hotly, I smacked him across the stomach, annoyingly elated when he laughed again.

T-minus 49 days to exit

Dax hours remaining: 195

For the most part, waitressing felt like riding a bike—same old drill, getting coffee, taking orders, and giving the cook a hard time. It was fun seeing my old friend, Marco. He’d been the head cook at Sunrise Cafe for as long as I could remember, and during peak tourist season, he was the reason we had lines out the door. My new manager, Jean, seemed nice enough. It did take me some time to get back into the groove of customer service, but navigating the rush of the breakfast crowds, endless dietary restrictions, and strange food orders was preferable to getting teased mercilessly about my sentencing from all the old cafe regulars.

Despite the senator’s best efforts, the entire town knew every detail of the crash. The first few days with my apron strings tied went something like this:

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