It was a sultry August evening and Patti's was packed as usual. Several sun-strained parents were trying to pacify their wiggly kids whose pink noses were pressed against the glass wall separating them from the ice cream.

"I want chocolate, a big cone of chocolate," said a chubby little girl with stringy straw- colored hair.

Katrina smiled at the polo-shirt dad.

"What can I get for you?" She said.

At fourteen, Katrina considered herself to be an adult, especially since she started working at Patti's. She thought being behind the counter was much better than the other side where people had to wait. Katrina knew she could be impatient, like the time she rushed through her math test so she could leave school early and go to the beach. She didn't really care that much if she failed. What difference did math class make in her future as a movie star? Sometimes she felt like quitting school and going straight to Hollywood, but like any sensible adult, she knew she should go to college first. That's why she was scooping ice-cream for the summer, to start saving money for tuition.

"No, you'll get a small cone, Brittany. You'll make a mess with a big one," said the little girl's mother.

"I will not. I want a big one," Brittany said.

She turned away from the glass, leaving a fog spot from the pressure of her nose, and tugged on her father's polo shirt.

"Daddy, you'll buy me a big cone, won't you?"

The mother protested. "Don't you buy her a big cone, Rick. You know she'll get it all over herself."

"Daddy, Daddy, I want chocolate! Big scoop! Big scoop!" Said the girl who looked not more than five. She tugged on the polo shirt while pointing to the case of brown goo behind the glass.

Katrina smiled as she remembered herself at that age. She was never like that little girl tugging, pressing, pointing, and whining. Katrina always got the same thing when her parents brought her to Patti's after a day at the beach. One scoop of Peppermint Stick ice cream on a small cone. Just one scoop of creamy light pink coolness with bits of red and green hard peppermint candy was enough to make her happy. Although one time she asked for two scoops because all the other kids at Patti's had two scoops. "No, one scoop is enough. You don't want to end up like your Uncle Pete, do you?" Her mother admonished. "Why, Mommy, will two scoops make me fat?" Katrina asked. "Don't use that word. Uncle Pete is obese." As if there was a difference to a six year old. "It's not entirely his fault," her mother continued. "Your grandparents let him eat too much when he was your age." Uncle Pete died a year ago on a summer evening just like this one.

"One large Chocolate cone, one small Butter Crunch in a cup, and a small cone of Mango Melba," the polo shirt dad ordered.

Katrina took the metal scooper out of the milky water container and plunged it into the chocolate ice cream. Her arms had grown stronger since she started scooping in June. She had always been skinny, especially her arms. Now little mounds appeared when she flexed. Working with all this potential fat could be dangerous, she thought. All the movie stars were thin and beautiful. If she was ever going to make it in Hollywood she couldn't gain another pound. Her five foot five body already weighed one hundred and five. Even though she hardly ate any ice cream on the job, Katrina feared that the calories would seep into her cells just from inhaling the flavors six hours a day, five days a week.

The little girl grabbed the cone from her father and had brown drippy marks on her pudgy face before the mess was paid for. The mother noticed right away and looked as if she was about to have an anxiety attack.

"Brittany, no, wait, here's a napkin," the mother said while clutching a handful of paper napkins from the silver dispenser on the counter. She had yellow hair the same shade as her daughter's, but it was pulled back in a tight ponytail, revealing bark brown roots. Katrina thought, if I ever dye my hair, I'll never let the roots show. She watched the ponytail mother remove the ice cream cone from her daughter's hand to wipe nose, mouth, and cheeks. Little Brittany didn't seem to care about her face. "Ice cweam, ice cweam!" She squealed while her mother glared at the husband.

"See? I told you. Look at her," the mother snapped.

"Just give it back to her. We'll clean her up when we get home," the father said.

Katrina thought, I will never be like that when I'm a mother. Of course, she wouldn't let her kid have so much ice cream in the first place. She wouldn't want her child to grow up fat. Or obese. The mother gave the cone back to Brittany and instantly the little girl was appeased. She joyfully nursed her chocolate treat, unaware of the piece of cheap napkin stuck to her chin.

The family disappeared into the crowd. Katrina served an old couple. Most of the senior regulars ordered the same flavor every time, and if that flavor was out, they wouldn't order another. Instead, they grumbled about the incompetence of America's youth and left in a huff. "The older you get, the less likely you are to vary your tastes," Uncle Pete used to say. It certainly seemed that way at Patti's. I will never be like that when I'm old, Katrina thought as she scooped Pistachio for crotchety Mrs. Craft who always ordered a sundae with chocolate sauce and a cherry, no whipped cream, no nuts.

The old wooden screen door creaked. Katrina looked as she always did to get a glimpse of her next potential customer. To her delight, this one was a cute guy of about sixteen. He had shaggy surfer blond hair and was wearing board shorts and sandals. Fresh from the beach, she thought as she sized up his well-developed tanned body. His eyes were a teal blue, Katrina's favorite color. She hoped that she would be the one to serve him. It wasn't guaranteed, since there were three other employees who had that chance, two of whom were pretty teenage girls who might get to him first.

"Hey guys, that boy who just came in, he's a friend of mine. Do you mind if I take his order?" Katrina said sweetly to Becky, Colleen, and Jim.

They were all busy serving customers, and didn't even look up to see who Katrina was talking about. They acquiesced with mumblings of "No problem" and "Whatever." In five minutes, Katrina's dream boy was at the counter.

"Hi, what can I get for you?" She said with a flip of her auburn bangs.

Dream boy smiled. "I don't know. Everything looks so good. What do you recommend?"

He was still smiling. His voice was slow and wavy like the sea on a breezy day.

"Um, Peppermint Stick is my favorite. But it depends on your taste and how hungry you are."

"I'm pretty hungry."

Katrina took a deep breath and lifted her chest. "Do you like chocolate?"

"I love chocolate."

"The Double Chocolate Swirl is excellent."

"Do you think it would be good with butterscotch syrup?"

"I imagine it is. I mean, definitely. How could it not be?"

"Okay. I've made up my mind. I'll have a large Double Chocolate Swirl in a cup with butterscotch syrup."

"Sure," Katrina said with a smile.

As she scooped out the ice cream with more fervor than usual, she said, "I think I've seen you around."

"Oh, yeah?" He raised his sandy eyebrows.

She didn't know what else to say. She wanted to invite him to stop by later at the end of her shift. Maybe they could hang out, go to the beach. But she didn't even know him and there were too many other customers needing her attention. She remembered Patti saying that flirting on the job was unprofessional.

"That's $3.50," she said.

He handed her a five.

She gave him his change and said, "I know of this party that's going on later tonight. If you stick around or come back in like a half-hour, I can tell you where it is, if you're interested."

She was surprised at her nonchalance.

"Really? Right on," he said. He seemed impressed.

"Enjoy your ice cream."

She flashed another smile.

The door creaked. Katrina looked up and shuddered. She had never seen a mass of human flesh as large as the woman who just entered. This woman was at least one hundred pounds more than Uncle Pete who was almost four hundred pounds when he died. Katrina tried not to stare as she took the order of another polo shirt dad, but she couldn't help noticing the cane, the bulges, the red, moist cheeks as the woman waddled towards the end of the line. She had to say "Excuse me" a lot, causing people to jostle uncomfortably. As Katrina served other customers, she kept an eye on the woman's advancement, hoping that she would go to Jim or Colleen. Dream boy was eating his ice cream at one of the tables. Closer, closer, the woman waddled. Go to Jim. Go to Jim, Katrina commanded in her mind, but the woman stopped right in front of her place at the counter. She turned around and washed the scooper just as the woman looked like she was ready to order. "Miss? Miss?" said a voice. Katrina pretended not to hear and bent down to organize some cups which were already organized. Becky, Colleen and Jim were busy scooping and taking cash. Customers waiting behind the fat woman were becoming impatient. "Miss? Hello?" "Could we get some help over here?" More voices joined the one that carried more weight than its owner.

Becky called out, "Katrina! What are you doing?"

There was no escape now. She had to do her job. She rose to position.

She said, "I'm sorry, there was a spill, and I had to clean it up or somebody might have slipped."

"Oh. Okay, well I'll have a large Double Chocolate Swirl sundae please," the fat woman said.

Katrina couldn't move. The woman had no neck. In its place were three chins that jiggled with each word she said. Her breasts were a shelf that she could eat off. She wore a T-shirt stained in some places. Katrina knew why the stains were there. Uncle Pete had stains like that, and once she pointed out a large splotch of barbecue sauce. "Uncle Pete, you have a stain on your shirt." He tried to look down but the fat where his neck used to be obstructed a view of anything below his shoulders. "I didn't know it was there," he said with melancholic sincerity. That was shortly before he died. At his funeral, Katrina wondered if there was anything she could have done to help him. Maybe if she hadn't asked him to take her to McDonald's for Happy Meals when she was younger, she wouldn't be staring at a photo of him at the funeral parlor. No casket could hold his body. It would have cost thousands of dollars to have one constructed to contain his corpse and withstand the weight. Then it would have taken several bodybuilders to lift him into the casket and transport the load.

"I'm sorry, we're out of Double Chocolate Swirl," Katrina said, hoping the woman had old person inflexibility.

"No you're not," the woman said with annoyance as she pointed a finger that was like three of Katrina's fingers combined. She was pointing right at the nearly full case of Double Chocolate Swirl. Katrina's face flushed. People were glaring at her. She felt herself melting fast like ice cream in the sun. But she had a responsibility.

"I'm sorry, ma'am. We've recently established a policy here at Patti's that if a customer is eating too much, we don't serve that customer..."

The woman opened her mouth as if she was going to speak. Her puffy eyes narrowed then her chins jiggled as her mouth closed. She looked like she was going to cry.

"It's because we care about our customers," Katrina added sheepishly.

Becky, Colleen, and Jim stopped what they were doing and nearby customers merely stared as a murmuring rumbled from counter to door. Some people in the back of the shop pushed their way to the front like fans trying to get close to a celebrity. Soon all eyes were focused on the fat woman and Katrina. Some of the eyes were sympathetic, but Katrina could not tell if the sympathy was for her or the woman.

She glanced at the table where dream boy was sitting. He too was staring at her, and he didn't seem impressed. Then he got up and approached the counter. Thank God he's coming to save me from this humiliation, Katrina thought. When he reached the counter, she saw that the sympathy in his eyes was not for her.

He went right to the woman and said stoically, "Mom, let's go."

Not another word from the great mass of flesh. Her son shot Katrina down with a look that made her feel like three hundred pounds. Then he led his mother away from the counter. The other customers made a path for them. The woman didn't have to excuse herself as she waddled this time. When the door creaked closed, all eyes returned to where they expected to see Katrina quivering from mortification. But she wasn't there. The swinging of the back door interrupted the flow of Double Chocolate Swirl for just a moment. Then Becky, Colleen, and Jim carried on with their jobs because they remembered Patti telling them it wasn't right to keep the customers waiting.

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