"That'll be $5.99," I say as a customer hands a crisp ten dollar bill to me, which I exchange for a few more bills and a handful of coins. He retrieves his frozen yogurt from the scale, right as another customer calls out, "Hey, this machine isn't working!"

"I'm sorry! I'll be there to fix it in a second," I reply as I hand the customer at the register a spoon. Why, of all times, did my manager decide to take his break now, right at the peak of yogurt rush hour?

At the insistence of my mother that I get a job this summer, I scoured high and low for good opportunities, but getting summer jobs is tough, I learned, and the only place that managed to hire me, let alone give me an interview, was a frozen yogurt shop about fifteen minutes by car from my house.

The job is awful. I hated it the moment I stepped into it, but I'm not one to back down, and I've decided to power through for the pay and job experience. I spend the majority of my days at work, listening to customers yell at me about ounces pricing and about not having the flavors they want. I've spilled yogurt over myself a few times now, but hey, at least I get to eat free topping at work? The job is barely worth the minimum wage I make.

But it keeps me out of the house. And it distracts me.

When I manage to get a break later in the afternoon, I sit in the back, using my company-embroidered hat as a fan. The days have grown excessively hot in the summer sun, and while I can't complain about the temperature of the shop itself, getting into my car after a day of work is always a long and slightly painful process. I always manage to burn myself on the seatbelt, it seems.

It's right when I get off of work that Abigail stops by, and I hang around in my uniform for a few more moments to hook her up with some free yogurt. My friends seem to love this place, probably because I've been the one providing them free yogurt for a month now.

"You don't want any yogurt?" Abigail asks as she shoves a spoonful of strawberry yogurt, laden with toppings, into her mouth.

"I don't want yogurt ever again," I mutter.

Abigail's got the summer easy. She has been babysitting since sophomore year, and she has her own personal list of clients, so she always seems to have enough ways to make money. My mother told me she didn't want me lounging around the house this summer, so I've been forced to take on this yogurt gig.

"Do you get in trouble for handing out so much yogurt?" Abigail asks.

"No," I state. "The owner isn't here that often to check."

"But you've got to be handing out, like, four cups of yogurt on a weekly basis, right?"

"Four?"

"Yeah! Me, Hazel, Juliet, and Aurora, right?"

I'm quiet. My throat makes a sound almost of disappointment, and I look down at my fingernails that are stained with some chocolate. I'll have to make sure to scrub them well tonight, as I do most nights during this job.

"Callie?"

Aurora doesn't visit. I'm glad she doesn't know I work here, but there's still the fear that she'll walk in, and I'll be forced to treat her with all the civility and smiley kindness that all our customers apparently deserve. I haven't seen her since graduation, and I decided not to attend her graduation party. I suppose she can always call me if she wants to talk, but even then, I'm guessing she's deleted my number by now.

"I knew something was wrong," Abigail admits as she sets her spoon down into her empty yogurt cup. "Did you two break up?"

"We haven't been together since April," I admit to her. It's mid-June now, making it a little over two months since our fallout.

"You're kidding! That long?! You hid it well," Abigail admits. "Well, somewhat well. I could tell you were upset, but I just thought it was finals, or the fact that she was graduating. What happened?"

"I don't know," I murmur, trying to hold back tears. I haven't told anyone this yet, not even my siblings, though I'm sure they've suspected since I haven't gone to hang out with Aurora or had her over at any time in the past two months. Besides, they've been too busy with their own middle school drama to pay attention too closely to their older sister's mess of a romantic life.

"Did she break up with you?"

I shake my head.

"What? Callie?! Why would you do that?"

"It's not even a real break-up, Abigail," I admit. "I was fed up. I had asked her about prom plans, but she shot them down. When I told her I came out, she was more concerned about people hearing about us than my own pain. So I lost it. I told her I didn't want to fool around if she didn't want to make it official. And in that moment, she didn't choose me. So I was done."

"God, Callie, I'm so sorry."

"Whatever. I don't really know how I feel now. I think we both said things we regret but...what's done is done," I admit. I let out a sigh shortly after. I'm not sure how I feel these days. It's a mixture of sadness and just numbness. On days I walk Fry, sometimes I walk down her block, but I never catch sight of her. And other days, I think good riddance and that I didn't need this relationship to work anyway.

"But I miss her," I admit to Abigail quietly.

"Didn't you see her at graduation? Did she have a grad party?"

"I couldn't handle it. I couldn't go take pictures with her, and I threw out the invitation to her grad party," I admit.

"Callie, why would you do that?! Wasn't she the one that invited you to graduation to begin with?"

"Yeah. I just don't know. I was sick of having the relationship be in limbo, and...I don't know. I knew we were probably going to have to separate anyway at the end of the year, so it's probably better it happened," I say, even though I don't believe the words coming out of my mouth.

"How are you holding up?"

"Fine," I lie.

"We both know that's not true," Abigail states. "You just said you miss her."

"Well, there's not much I can do about that, right? Because she's going to college and leaving anyway! It doesn't matter if I love her. It won't change anything. She didn't want to be in a public relationship with me, and now she's off to college, so—" Oh my God, did I just tell Abigail...

"You love her?"

My hands go to my mouth. Oh no. That was meant to be a private detail. I was fine telling Abigail about all of this, but I was never going to share that fact.

"D-Don't repeat that," I beg quietly.

"When did you discover that?"

"When I broke up with her..."

"So she doesn't know?"

"Well, I mean in some ways she had to have known, but I never...verbally said it, you know."

"Why don't you go talk to her, Callie? You never know—"

"No. I need to get over her.  I don't want to do long distance, and...I don't want to be the one to apologize because I think I had some valid reasons to be upset," I say.

"You're both being stubborn."

"It doesn't matter. I'm fine like this. I'll get over her."

"But you love her."

"So? I'll get over it," I argue. "And when we start senior year, I'll find another girl to like, okay? So it's really not that big of a deal. Are you done with your yogurt? I can take it to the trash." That ends our conversation, and I walk with Abigail into the parking lot towards our cars.

"Well, do your best to have fun this summer, then," Abigail says as she departs.

"I'll try," I admit, though it's doubtful. I wish school would merely start again so I could focus on academics and college applications rather than having more than enough time to contemplate my romantic life and relationship to Aurora.

My afternoon and evening the routine are relatively the same these summer days. I come home and shower, my mother makes dinner, and sometimes my siblings and I will go on walks in the evening or to the park since the sun stays out so late. I try not to go too often though for fear I will see Aurora. Feelings of sadness crawl inside me every time I look at that tall oak tree where I called things off.

Summer, while still the same in its heat and icy popsicle-feeling-fun, just feels like something I have to get through this year.