Crab Dancing at the Monmouth Diner

“Order up!”

The service bell rang out through The Monmouth Diner. Dad sent a plate of french fries sliding smoothly down the bar into Izzy’s waiting hands. She caught it — he winked — and she felt a thrill run up her spine. After years of pleading, today was the first day Dad was trusting her to serve actual customers.

Izzy had been helping out at the restaurant ever since she could walk. She’d done everything — cleaned out the walk-in refrigerator, wiped down the menus, even scraped little bits of gum off the bottoms of the tables. “Good task for a short-stack like you,” her dad would say while ruffling her hair. “You’re small enough to get in all the corners.”

She never complained, not even about the gross stuff, because she loved her dad. Izzy’s dad taught her how every little thing that happens in the diner is important. She understood that it all fits together, and even though scraping gum isn’t the most fun thing in the world to do, she was proud of the diner and wanted it to be nice.

But talking to customers was always a job for the adults. You have to know how to charm them, how to smile in the right way, how to talk just enough, how to remember all the orders and substitutions that they might throw at you. Dad always said it took time to learn how to do that. Izzy had been working, rehearsing her memorization skills and her polite grin, and wanted to prove she was mature enough to take on the customers. Now that she was 14, she felt ready.

“That’s going to Table 6,” Dad called to her before turning back to the flat top. Izzy nodded as she balanced the plate of fries on her forearms. She rounded the corner of the service station, prepared her very best smile, and rehearsed what she was about to say. Here you go. Is there anything else I can get for you? She repeated the lines in her head over and over as she scanned the dining room.

And then her blood ran cold.

Kassy Goericke was at Table 6, with her shiny black hair and her name-brand jeans. Kassy, who smelled like Marc Jacobs Daisy. Kassy, who literally went viral with one of her dance videos. Beside her sat her three partners in popularity — Ava, Scarlett, and Hannah — all three just as glossy and shiny.

Before she could stop herself, Izzy ducked behind the register.

*

Izzy had been attending Monmouth Academy since 6th grade. Monmouth was a top-notch boarding school, nestled in the hills of Western Massachusetts. The campus buildings were Gothic, featuring Roman bricks with tall spires and ivy crawling up the walls. It was the type of place where students spent their summers scuba diving in Hawaii, while winters were reserved for skiing in Aspen. Parents were doctors, lawyers, or surgeons, folk who generously donated to the school on top of the hefty tuition fees. Izzy enrolled as a day student on a scholarship — one of the handful of “scholarship kids” whose parents’ combined annual salaries wouldn’t even cover the cost of a semester at Monmouth.

Students at the Academy came from all over the country, but Izzy was the only one from Monmouth itself — a “townie.” She tried her best to hide it. During her first week of school, she told people she was from Lexington, a rich suburb outside of Boston. She might have gotten away with it, too, had Kassy Goericke not actually been from Lexington. Kassy had been quick to tell everyone in their grade that Izzy was lying.

Since then, Kassy never missed an opportunity to call Izzy out. Usually it was over little things, like the brand of Izzy’s jeans or the smell of her body spray, and Izzy could handle it. But then there was the lift ticket disaster.

All year long, the girls wore the ski lift tickets from their Aspen skiing vacations, dangling them off their coat zippers. Izzy, who had never gone skiing in her entire life, stole the tickets from a jacket that had been sitting in the lost-and-found for three weeks. Kassy confronted her as they settled in for homeroom. “You didn’t have those lift tickets on your jacket yesterday, did you?”

Izzy felt everyone’s eyes on her and her face flared red. “Uh… ”

“Because I’m pretty sure you didn’t,” said Kassy. “So did you, like, fly to Colorado last night?”

A chorus of snickers rippled up from the crowd, and Izzy’s stomach twisted. She had fumbled for an answer, finally mumbling something about having to remove the tickets when getting the jacket cleaned. Kassy had rolled her eyes and scoffed. “This whole lying thing is so weird,” she said. “We already know you’re a scholarship kid or whatever. You’re not fooling anyone.”

After that, Izzy stopped trying to fit in and tried to disappear instead. But even though Kassy found ways to make fun of her because her family couldn’t afford tuition, and she didn’t live in the dorms, Izzy had been successful at hiding the restaurant. She was so proud of her family and their diner, and she didn’t want those wealthy kids to know she had to work. She didn’t want anyone to mock her family’s place.

*

Izzy tried to catch her breath as she crouched behind the register. She couldn’t stay there much longer. She scanned the room, trying to find an exit — maybe to the kitchen? Maybe she could hide in the walk-in fridge until the girls left?

“What are you doing down there?”

Izzy whipped around. Dad was looking down at her from the service window. “Is something wrong?” he asked.

“Ha, no!” Her fake laughter sounded more like a strange wheeze. “I just… dropped my pen.”

Dad raised an eyebrow. “Okay,” he said. “That order’s gonna get cold. Table 6, remember?”

“Yep,” said Izzy. “Got it!”

Dad turned and walked back to the kitchen. Izzy’s heart was pounding. She couldn’t go to Table 6 herself, but maybe… maybe Georgina, who had been working at the restaurant for years, would do it? She was the only other waitress on duty.

“Order up!” Dad yelled.

Izzy chucked the plate of fries onto the shelf inside the counter. “I got it!” she said.

Dad slid the order (reuben sandwich, extra pickle, hold the coleslaw) down the bar. “Table 2,” he said.

Of course it’s Table 2, Izzy thought. Table 2 was directly in front of Table 6. This is okay, she thought. I can do this. She balanced the plate on her tray, turned to her left, and began crab-walking, moving sideways as she made her way across the dining room. A woman at another table looked up from her menu, and her jaw dropped; she poked her husband and pointed. But that was fine, that was totally fine! As long as Kassy didn’t see her, it didn’t matter.

Izzy put the plate down in front of the man at Table 2. “Here you go!” she said. “Is there anything else I can get for you?”

“Um.” The man stared at her as though she had four heads. “No, I think I’m… fine? Are you okay?”

“Great!” Izzy replied, hitting him with her very best competent waitress smile. “Let me know if there’s anything else you need.” She spun on her heels and began to crab walk back to the kitchen. But then she stopped cold.

Georgina was standing by the register, holding the plate of french fries Izzy had hidden on the shelf. She looked utterly confused and glanced up at Izzy. “What’s this?” she mouthed.

Izzy’s stomach dropped. She shrugged. “Dunno!” she mouthed back.

Georgina knitted her eyebrows together. She put the plate on the bar, then waved at Dad, who turned away from the grill. Come on, don’t tell him, Izzy thought. She watched the two of them in conversation. Dad looked up at Izzy, and she saw a ripple of confusion pass across his face, followed by a cloud of anger. He gestured for her to come over.

Izzy trudged across the dining room, embarrassment flooding her body. Dad pointed at the plate. “What’s this?” he said. “Is this the order for Table 6?”

Izzy opened her mouth to make an excuse, but she knew there was no point in lying.

“Yes,” she whispered.

Dad sighed. “Why didn’t you bring it over?”

Izzy couldn’t think of a good reason. She sputtered, trying to explain, but no words came out. Dad pinched the bridge of his nose.

“You know,” he said, “maybe you need a little more time to get good at this.”

“But Dad!” said Izzy.

“Just go take a break,” sighed Dad. “We’ll talk once the lunch rush is over.”

*

Izzy ran to the walk-in and ducked inside. She looked down at the apron she’d tied so carefully, placed her fingers on the neat bun in her hair that she’d spent so much time styling that morning. Guess I’ll be scraping gum off of tables forever, she thought. There was no way Dad would ever let her speak to a customer again. He had trusted her, and she’d messed it up. And why? Because of Kassy Goericke?

There was a knock at the door. “Izzy?” a voice said. Was that…  Hannah? No…  please. Izzy wiped her face with the corner of her apron and took a deep breath.

“Hey Iz?” This voice was Dad’s. “Your friend wanted to say hi.”

She’s not my friend, Izzy thought, but she kept herself from saying it. “Okay!” she said. “I’ll be right out.”

What was he thinking? Why would he bring someone into the kitchen? He’s so clueless, Izzy thought, he literally doesn’t get anything. She tried to squish her fury down into her stomach.

Chin up. Back straight. Don’t let them make you feel small.

Izzy cracked open the door. “Hi,” she said and smiled.

“Hey,” said Hannah. She was looking down at the floor, scuffing the tile with the toe of her sneaker. The two of them said nothing. Pans clattered. Glasses clanked. Arturo, the busboy, scurried behind Hannah, almost knocking her over.

“You two, scoot!” he yelled. “You’re clogging everything up!”

“We should go outside,” Izzy said.

She led Hannah through to the back door, and the two girls walked out into the parking lot. It was a gray day, and the sky was spitting cold rain on their faces. Izzy could feel her hair getting damp, and Hannah pulled her pink hoodie tight around her body. They stood in silence. Then, Hannah finally broke it.

“Nice moves,” she said.

“What are you talking about?” said Izzy.

“You know,” said Hannah. She turned to the side and started shuffling, the same way Izzy had shuffled across the dining room earlier. “Your little crab dance.”

Izzy cringed. “Oh, great,” she said. “Are you gonna make fun of me now?”

Hannah laughed a little. “Well, you have been acting a little strange,” she said.

Izzy felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes again. “I didn’t want you to see me.”

“I get it,” Hannah sighed. She looked down at the ground. “Kassy can be a little mean.”

“A little?” Izzy scoffed.

“She’s just… she’s insecure sometimes, and she takes it out on other people.” Hannah shrugged. “You know, I think it’s really cool that you work at a diner.”

Izzy looked at Hannah’s face, trying to spot a sign that she was making fun of her. She couldn’t find one.

“You do?” Izzy said.

“Well, yeah,” said Hannah. “It’s like… people trust you to do stuff. And you know what you’re doing. No one else in our grade does anything like that.”

Izzy blushed. “Well, I know it really well,” she said. “It’s my dad’s place, so I grew up here.”

Hannah’s eyes widened. “Wait. This place belongs to your dad?” she said. “My parents and I come here every time they visit. They love it.” She placed her hand on Izzy’s elbow. “You should feel really proud,” she said. “It’s, like, so awesome that this place is yours.”

Izzy beamed. She never expected that one of these girls would appreciate the restaurant the way she did.

“You know what I think you should do?” said Hannah. “I think you should add some pincers to the crab dance. Like this.” She held up her hands like crab claws and snapped them in the air.

Izzy burst out laughing. “I like it!” Izzy said. “Maybe get a little lower, like this?” She squatted and shuffled back and forth. Hannah copied her, and the two girls dissolved into giggles.

*

As she walked back out to the floor, Izzy felt her excitement from the morning returning. The hustle and bustle of the restaurant made her feel warm — the ding of the order bell, the scrape of Dad’s spatula against the flat top, the clink of glasses as they were loaded into the dishwasher — all of it filled her with a sense of pride. In comparison to this place, Kassy’s opinion didn’t matter.

Izzy leaned on the bar. “Hey,” she called out to Dad. “I’m ready.”

Dad looked up from the flat top. “Did you not want to bring the order to Table 6 because of those girls?” he whispered.

Izzy nodded. “But I’m fine now. I can handle it.”

“You sure?” he said.

“Yeah,” she grinned. “I am.”

Dad nodded. “Alright,” he said. “They’re ready for their check.”

“Got it!” said Izzy. She strode confidently to the register and punched in the price for the fries from memory. She hit print and watched the receipt curl its way out of the machine.

“You know,” Dad said. “I believe in you.” Izzy looked up and saw that Dad was watching her, eyes brimming with pride.

Izzy beamed. “Thanks, Dad.”

“Just don’t put fries under the register again,” he said with a wink.

Izzy tore the receipt and made her way across the dining room, toward Kassy and her friends. As she collected their cash, Kassy snickered. “She finally decides to acknowledge us,” Kassy said.

Izzy looked at Hannah, and they grinned at each other. Hannah held up her hands like pincers, and so did Izzy.

“You all have a good day,” Izzy said. She snapped her pincers, and Hannah did too.

“Um, weird?” said Kassy. “What are you doing?”

“Duh,” said Hannah, “it’s the crab dance!” She and Izzy broke into giggles, and Izzy started to crab dance back to the register. As she crossed the dining room, she realized she didn’t feel embarrassed. Maybe Kassy couldn’t appreciate The Monmouth Diner, but other people could. And to Izzy, it was the most special place in the world.