Free Cool Bananas by Margaret Clark

Strait. Flick had on her navy shorts and red top while Liz was wearing hipsters and a brief blue top. Being so slim, the style suited Liz, whereas Flick always felt that her thighs and butt were too big and her waisttoo small for hipsters. She had a classic pear-shaped figure, or so she thought. That style needed a small butt and lean thighs.
    ‘Red sun in the morning, shepherd’s warning. Red sunset at night, shepherd’s delight,’ quoted Flick.
    ‘But it’s pink.’
    ‘I know. But I don’t remember any pink poems.’
    ‘I know one. ‘Little Miss Pink fell down the sink. How many miles did she fall? One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten. You’re out!’ It’s one of those counting-out rhymes.’
    ‘Remember “One potato, two potato, three potato, four. Five potato, six potato, seven potato, more”? I mean, how dumb is that, counting potatoes?’
    ‘Little kids today probably say french fries or chips,’ giggled Liz. ‘Like, “One chip, two chips, three chips, four.”’
    ‘Doesn’t have quite the same ring to it.’
    They’d arrived at the hot food van and both girls studied the menu. Flick looked at the three guys behind the counter. No, they weren’t the same men she’d overheard when she was serving their food. These were young guys, confident and good-looking.
    But then rich men who drove a late-model Merc probably wouldn’t lower themselves to work at hotfood vans — they’d employ young people and pay minimum wages.
    ‘What’ll you have?’ Liz asked Flick. ‘My shout.’
    ‘Um … I think I’ll just have some chips.’
    ‘We’ve got a last-minute special on hot dogs,’ one of the guys said. ‘Dog with cheese, coleslaw and sauce for a dollar.’
    ‘What?’ Flick’s eyes widened. A similar hot dog at Kay’s would cost two dollars fifty. No wonder this mob were stealing the customers.
    ‘We’ll take two,’ said Liz, looking up at the guy serving.
    Then Flick saw her double-blink. The guy stared back. He was about eighteen, with a blond fringe that flopped over one eye and the rest was cut really short. He had deep brown eyes, a golden tan, and the whitest teeth Flick had ever seen on a human who was not on TV. They were even whiter that Kiev’s.
    ‘Hi,’ said the guy. ‘Have we met before?’
    ‘Er … no,’ stammered Liz. ‘Um … we’ll have two of the hot dog specials please.’
    ‘Coming right up.’
    But he didn’t move, just kept staring at Liz. It was like watching one of those tableaus on ice, where the characters seemed to be frozen in time. Liz stoodthere, mesmerised. Finally, he winked then turned to the steamer and extracted two hot dogs which he expertly popped into two warmed buns, dabbing on grated cheese, coleslaw and sauce. Both went into long white bags.
    ‘Here you go.’
    ‘Oh, um, thanks …’ Liz’s voice trailed away.
    ‘Do you guys own this?’ Flick asked, waving her hand vaguely round in the air.
    ‘What? The van? As if. Nah, it belongs to the Martini brothers. We just work for them.’
    ‘Ah, I see. Do they by any chance drive a big black Merc?’
    ‘That’s them. Why?’
    ‘Oh, just asking.’
    He turned his attention to Liz. ‘Will I see you tomorrow?’
    ‘Um … well … I’ll see.’
    ‘I’m here from ten in the morning till six tomorrow. My name’s Danny.’
    ‘Um … I don’t …’
    ‘What’s your name?’
    ‘Liz.’ She hung her head and scuffed her feet in the sand.
    ‘How about you come just after six? We can go for a walk on the beach or you can come over to thecamping ground, site 14 if I miss you. It’s behind the ranger’s hut.’
    ‘Well, I —’
    ‘See you tomorrow then.’
    Flick and Liz strolled away nibbling at their hot dogs. A few surfers were out catching a late wave in the dying rays of the sun. The air was still. Smoke rose from the camp fires and a slight breeze wafting inshore stirred the tips of the trees.
    ‘Well?’
    ‘Well what?’
    ‘I saw the sizzling going on