I roll my eyes. Bucky has been in love with Camille since kindergarten. They’re probably the most mismatched pair on the planet, but Bucky will never give up. He’s very careful not to be pushy about it, though, and Camille will sometimes flirt back here and there. I doubt anything will ever come of it after all these years.

“You made it just the way she likes it?” I ask, raising my eyebrows.

“A little well done on the grill with extra relish.” He smiles. “Come on, how many other guys would know her exact preferred hot dog order?”

“You are definitely one of a kind, Buckster.” I laugh.

He adjusts his plastic gloves while I carefully carry the perfect Camille hot dog over to where Camille and Elijah are closing up shop.

“Special delivery from Bucky Redd,” I tell Camille, setting down the fancy hot dog in front of her. “He says he made it exactly how you like it.”

“Extra time on the grill and more relish than necessary? Oh my god, that’s just the sweetest!” Camille takes a big bite and flashes a thumbs-up to Bucky, who is watching her from the concession window.

He tips his hat and takes a bow.

“He will never give up on you,” I tell her.

Camille shrugs with just one shoulder and pops the last bite of hot dog in her mouth. “He’s sweet.”

“Are you saying there’s a chance you might finally let him take you out somewhere?”

“Anything’s possible, my friend,” she says, rolling up the hot dog napkin and tucking it in my front pocket.

Camille mouths “Thank you” to Bucky, and then turns to Elijah and me. “You wanna play?” she asks, shoving fifteen dollars into the cash box and pulling three books of game cards from my stack. “Come on, let’s get a chair.”

“I’ve never played before,” Elijah says shyly. “I mean, not since kindergarten or whatever.”

“Sit by me; I’ll teach you everything you need to know. And maybe I’ll be a good luck charm, too,” Camille tells him, patting the chair next to her.

I sit down across from the two of them, my blue dauber ready to do some damage. I never win at bingo, but it doesn’t stop me from hoping every time I sit down and listen to Birdie call out the numbers. Even though I’m a minor and can’t collect the prize if I do win, I know standing up and yelling out “Bingo!” is something I’m missing out on.

“I 24. I 24. I… 24,” Birdie calls out into the microphone, and there’s a chorus of whoops and groans.

“Everyone’s really nervous about the Taylor game, huh?” Elijah asks after marking through I 24 with his orange dauber.