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Daily Field Journal of A
“So then Todd is hanging . . . upside down, from the edge of the high dive and he’s just screaming . . . ‘I didn’t want to go in head first! I didn’t want to go in head first!’ And I’m like”—Hammond cupped his hands around his mouth—“‘You shoulda thought of that before you flipped over, dude!’”I held my stomach as I laughed, practically doubled over behind the counter at Take a Dip. It was the Fourth of July, and it was pouring outside. Fat raindrops battered the plate-glass windows and every car that zipped by sprayed a wall of water on the roadside sign advertising two-for-one single cones. The fluorescent lights inside the shop made everything look dingy, from the unpolished chrome on the milk shake blenders to the film over the top of the dipping chocolate. We’d had one customer in the last hour, and our shift manager, Deb, had long since retired to the back room with her cell phone. When she’d gone, I had silently cursed her for leaving me alone with Hammond. But now . . . I was actually having fun.“So what happened?” I asked.“He fell,” Hammond said matter-of-factly, toying with one of the icecream scoops in its bucket. “And he so didn’t want to fall on his head, he flipped over and landed on his stomach. It was the belly flop heard round the world.”“Oh God. That must’ve hurt,” I said, biting my bottom lip.“His stomach was red for hours. We took a picture of it,” Hammond confirmed with a nod. “I’m sure someone has it somewhere.”I smiled, feeling all fuzzy and nostalgic. It was kind of nice to hear the stories of things that had happened while I was off living with my grandmother in Baltimore. Nice, but also odd. I’d always known that life had gone on without me, but it was weird to hear how easily and normally it had gone on without me.Hammond crossed his arms over his chest, his feet planted wide in that self-assured stance of his. He was so much better looking when he wasn’t being a jerk. Already he’d gotten a tan, which made his blond hair look lighter, and he’d wisely chosen a light blue T-shirt that brought out the blue in his eyes. His had forty colorful scoops of ice cream on it, the flavor’s name beneath each scoop, and read TRY ’EM ALL! across the top. We looked at each other for a long moment, as the refrigerator sputtered and roared into another cooling cycle behind him. Suddenly I had this vivid memory of him clutching the front of my T-shirt around my stomach right before we kissed that night a million years ago, because he didn’t know what to do with his hands. I quickly turned away and leaned against the counter, blowing out a loud, theatrical sigh.God I hoped he couldn’t tell what I was thinking. I almost never thought about that night. So why was it coming up now?“So are you go