For the previous five years, I’d gone to camp for the whole summer, and I’d adored it. This year, our budget had only allowed for a half session at Holly Oaks camp. But as consolation, my parents had let me sign up for a food-writing class for kids at the Y here in Bayville, which started tomorrow. I loved reading and writing and food, so I was excited to combine all three in one class, even though I was nervous about meeting new kids again. Despite what Tamiko had said, she was actually pretty good in the friend-making department, while I was shy.

“Blah, blah, blah,” said Tamiko. “That doesn’t count. Those kids and I share interests, like colleagues, so it’s more like networking. We’re all artistic and creative, and we all have blogs and portfolios that we help one another with. We have a lot in common. I don’t just bond with random strangers all over the place, like this one!” She jerked her thumb at Sierra, who had sent the happy customers on their way and joined our conversation.

“What? I’m not bonding with random strangers! Those kids go to my camp!”

Tamiko and I looked at each other, and we both rolled our eyes. “You could find common ground with anyone, Sierra,” said Tamiko. “It just comes easily to you. Look at all the new friends you’ve made this year! No rhyme or reason.”

Sierra bristled. “That’s not true! MacKenzie is in my science class. The girls from my band are… in my band. The student council kids… Well, forget about them. The kids from soccer and softball—we have our teams in common.”

“Right, but what about Jenna, who you met at the park; and Sweeney, your ‘cat-sitting’ friend; and Philip from the pet food store?”

Sierra just shrugged and shook her head. “What can I say? I’m a people person!”

“And don’t forget all her rock-band camp friends!” I added quietly.

Sierra and the rest of her band, the Wildflowers, had attended a local rock-band camp this summer. Since I’d been back for a week, I’d noticed that all the kids from the program had been stopping by the store and trying out songs for one another. My mom had even let Sierra play Wildflowers songs on the store’s sound system once she’d approved them. Molly’s Ice Cream was suddenly getting a reputation as a talent incubator for local bands, and I wasn’t quite sure I liked it. I had wanted the store to be more of a literary ice cream parlor, and had even introduced a few bookish traditions early on, like book and ice cream pairings, that had kind of fallen by the wayside.