Where the Stars Still Shine (14 page)

The store carries both new and used books, but the sections are arranged illogically. Instead of alphabetical fiction by the author’s last name and nonfiction broken into categories, the shelves are tagged with snarky labels—
vampire novels that don’t suck (no pun intended)
,
books no one should read (but you probably will anyway)
, and
books by dead white guys
. There’s also a shelf called
authors who committed suicide
, and I wonder what criteria go into deciding if Hemingway is a dead white guy or an author who committed suicide. I’m unsure where to look for a book on taking the GED exam, but I find it with other study guides on a shelf labeled …
in the real world all rests on perseverance (goethe)
. It’s not a new book; there are penciled notes in the margins and it’s dated to last year’s exam. Do study guides change significantly from year to year? I’m willing to risk five dollars plus tax the answer is no.

The sole employee in the store is a pale-skinned girl in her twenties, sitting on the checkout desk with her black-denim-clad legs dangling over the edge, reading a paperback. She’s wedged between a small spinner of artsy postcards and a
now playing
display featuring a CD by a band I’ve never heard. Beneath the
now playing
sign, scratched in black pen, it says
as selected by real people, not corporate assholes with bad taste
.

She tears herself away from the page and looks at me through black-rimmed glasses that magnify the way her black eyeliner is slicked along her lashes, cat-eye style. Her earlobes are stretched around black plugs, a silver ring is looped through her lip, and a script-y tattoo on the inside of her wrist says
be here now
. “All set?”

“Yeah.”

She doesn’t comment on the GED study guide but eyes the paperback I found on the
they won awards for a reason
shelf in the teen section. “I approve.”

Despite the judgmental book categories, so-cool-no-one-has-heard-of-it music, and a bookseller—the lanyard draped around her neck says her name is Ariel—who feels the need to critique my selections, I love this place. I feel at home among the books and could see myself curled up in the
L
of the couch with a book on a rainy day. Or, maybe working here.

Ariel bags up my purchases, then squats to change the music. On the far end of the counter, right next to the door, is a stack of job application forms. I slide my fingertips over the line where my name would go and picture myself shelving books. It’s startlingly easy to imagine. They may not be hiring and it’s possible they wouldn’t even hire me, but I take an application and shove it in my bag on my way out.

Phoebe and the boys are still at the park when I get to the house. I lock the bike to the fence beside the Air-stream and go inside. As I take my books from the bag, I catch the faint scent of vanilla and cigarettes in the air, making my heart stutter. It’s my mom’s signature scent—cheap drugstore vanilla body spray and Marlboro Reds.

As if she’s—

I rush from one end of the small trailer to the other, flinging open the bathroom door as I pass. Pulling aside the shower curtain.

—she’s not here.

It’s only my imagination.

Except, on the counter, there’s a cigarette stubbed out in the purple candle I bought with Kat. I pick it up and smell it. Marlboro Red.

Mom was here.

The bushes outside are unmoving—as if, like me, my mother would hide in someone’s landscaping—and of course she’s not going to be lounging on Greg’s porch steps. Why would she stay long enough to smoke a cigarette, but not long enough to wait for me? I whirl around, my eyes narrowed as I look closer for something. Anything. A note, maybe. Or, a message that only I’ll understand. Except the message she’s left makes my heart slide into my toes. She didn’t come to see me.

The laptop Greg gave me is missing.

My stomach curls in on itself, and I wonder if this is how the Ruskins felt after we lived in their house. Violated. Unsafe. I’ll lock the trailer door tonight because I don’t want her sneaking in when I’m sleeping. My face burns with shame that I feel this way about my own mother, but also—how am I going to tell Greg? I don’t want him to know it was her, but I don’t want to lie about what happened to the computer. I hate that she’s put me in this position.

“Does this come in green?”

Alex is back, and I watch through the open doors as he and Jeff load sponges into the back of Alex’s pickup truck. Today he’s bandanna-free, his bangs pulled back with an elastic the way a girl might wear her hair. Except there is absolutely nothing feminine about the way he looks, and I love how comfortable he seems in his skin.

It pains me to tear my gaze away from him to deal with the customer who has been nagging me with questions for the past fifteen minutes. I want to tell her that if the T-shirt she’s waving at me came in green, it would be there among the dozens of available styles. No, that purple dress doesn’t come in gold. No, we don’t have more necklace colors in back. No, you can’t have three
sponges for ten dollars because the place down the street is selling them for that price. I shake my head—again. “I’m sorry.”

Theo comes into the store and flashes me the “you’re not trying hard enough” look I’ve been getting all week. He goes over to the woman and by the time he’s done schmoozing her, she comes to the register with a T-shirt that’s not green
and
a dress that’s not gold.

“Callie,” he says, when the customer is gone, “I know you’re new to all this, but you really need to work it a little more. Make the sales.”

“I’m sorry.” I’ve attempted to compliment the customers the way Kat does, but the words always trip over my tongue and taste insincere. And although I
am
Greek, what it means to
be
Greek is an alien concept, so I can’t use it to my advantage the way Theo and Alex do. “I’ll try harder.”

He sighs as if he doesn’t believe me. “Go ahead and take your lunch break now. I’ll cover you, and Kat should be here by the time you’re done.”

It feels as if I’m being punished.

My bench is empty, so I go there with my daily hummus and Coke. When Alex sees me, he says something to Jeff, hands him the keys to the truck, and they do one of those complicated guy handshakes. Jeff glances in my direction as he climbs into the cab and drives
away. The whole exchange unsettles me somehow. Maybe because it feels as if I’ve answered some sort of silent booty call and now even Jeff knows what’s going to happen next. And maybe I’m embarrassed because I wouldn’t mind being something more than Alex’s booty call. Still, that doesn’t stop me from stepping aboard the boat and following Alex down into the cabin.

“Hi.” His arms come around me and he pulls me against him.

I thread my fingers through his curls as he lowers his face. His mouth is almost on mine when my own hoarse hello comes out. Just before he kisses me, he gives me that grin that makes my knees go rag-doll limp.

“I’ve been thinking about you all week.” Alex’s mouth is against my neck as his hand slides under my T-shirt. His skin tastes faintly of salt and sweat, and any hesitation I had about being nothing more than a booty call dissolves.

I’m pulling my shorts back on—and four minutes past the end of my break—when he asks me what time I get off work.

“Five.” I’m not worried about Theo, but I’m afraid that Kat has started her shift and she’ll be watching for me. That my T-shirt won’t hide the bite mark on my collarbone.

“Do you want to come over later?” His eyes follow
my movements, as if I’ll disappear if he looks away. Ironic, considering he was the one who disappeared without a word. “I’ll get Chinese and maybe we could watch a movie or something.”

“I, um—” I pull my shirt over my head so I can escape his gaze for a second or two before I have to tell him the truth. I look at the floor when I say the words. “I kind of already have—plans.”

“Oh.” His eyebrows pull together, as if it hadn’t occurred to him that I’d be busy.

“You just left, so I thought”—the cabin grows smaller and I’m not sure how to end that sentence—“you could have called or something.”

“No, you’re right.” Alex looks away and I hate that. I could break my date with Connor. God, I
want
to break my date with Connor so much. But that wouldn’t be right. I don’t want to be that kind of girl. “I didn’t really think about it. So, it’s cool. Maybe another time.”

“Definitely. Absolutely. Yes.” Too many words are coming out of my mouth, but I hope that one of them might be the spark to reignite whatever it was I saw in his eyes before. I want him to suggest we do something tomorrow night instead, but he leaves me hanging.

“Okay, well, I have to go. I’m already late from break,” I say. “So, I guess I’ll see you later?”

“Sure.”

But as I let myself out of the cabin and walk to the store, I keep looking back. Not sure about anything at all.

Kat is helping customers when I come in. She smiles and waves at me in a way that makes me think she’s been too busy to worry about me. Which is good, because I’m too busy trying to figure out what just happened with Alex to make up an excuse.

“Oh my God, Callie, why didn’t you tell me Connor asked you out?” She comes over to me as I’m reorganizing the jewelry spinner. “I had to hear about it from Nick.”

“I guess I forgot.”

“How could you forget?” She bounces on the balls of her feet and her charm bracelet jingles. “This is so exciting! What are you going to wear?”

“Probably jeans and maybe a plaid shirt.”

“Good call.” Kat bobs her head as if my lack of planning is a plan. “Understated yet cute. Maybe with one of the lace-trimmed tank tops underneath and—ooh, that necklace with all the keys. And those brown leather sandals. You’ll look—um, you look as if you’re about to puke. What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know.” I hang and rehang the same necklace twice, just so I don’t have to look at her excited face. “I’m not sure about this.”

“Why? Connor is the nicest guy I know.”

“It’s just—I’m not feeling it.”

“I used to think Nick was completely annoying. But one day during our freshman year, he sweet-talked the lunch lady into giving him an extra peanut-butter cookie and then gave it to me. It was such a dumb little thing, but”—she shrugs—“that did it for me. Give Connor a chance. He might surprise you.”

I work my lower lip between my teeth. I wish I could be honest with her about Alex, but she wouldn’t understand, especially when she wants this thing with Connor to happen. It’s in her face, in her voice. And I don’t want to fight with her anymore. “Yeah, okay.”

Theo lets us leave work a little early, and as we walk to Kat’s car I can’t help but sneak a glance at the boat. Alex stands on deck, stringing sponges the way he did the first night I saw him, and I have to quell the urge to tell him I want to eat Chinese food and watch movies with him. Disappointment thumps with every heartbeat when he doesn’t even look up.

It feels like an event when the whole family walks Connor and me to the front door and waves from the porch as we get in the car. Everyone’s expectations seem to be riding on my shoulders, and I feel like I’m going to get this wrong.

“You, um—you look nice,” Connor says, pulling away from the curb. “I like your hair.”

Kat wove the front into two small French braids and ribboned them together in the back. It’s pretty.

“Thanks.” He’s wearing a distressed polo-style shirt and faded jeans, and his cologne is sporty and slightly strong, as if he just put it on. “So do you,” I say.

He fiddles with the radio as he drives, scanning up and down the frequencies until he finds the right song—something hard rock I don’t recognize—and glances at me to make sure his choice is okay. I smile, but I’ve got nothing to say. Playing checkers in Greg’s backyard was easy because we didn’t have to talk, but now … this is awful.

“I, um—” I turn down the volume on the radio. “I don’t really know how to say this, but—”

“You don’t really want to go out with me, do you?” His voice is quiet and I can hear the disappointment running through it.

I slide my finger along the frayed spot on my jeans. “How did you know?”

“I could kind of tell.” He brakes to a stop at a red light. “I mean, the first time I asked, you said you’d think about it. That should have been a bigger hint. I guess—I don’t understand why you said yes if you’re not interested.”

“Kat was so excited and I’ve never been on a real date before, and I thought you’d be …” I search for a flattering word.
Comfortable. Nice
. Those words suck. “… safe.”

Why didn’t I say “fun”?
What guy wants to be told he’s
safe
? As proof, Connor’s nose crinkles as if I’ve used a profane word. Then he sighs and the sound punches me in the stomach. I would have avoided all of this if I had just said no.

“Not gonna lie.” He looks up through the windshield at the traffic light, as if he can’t wait for it to change so he can drive away from this moment. “I feel like an idiot because, well … for once it seemed as if I had a chance with a girl who is completely out of my league.”