Okay, wow! Don’t hold back there, Chace. What a jerk. Was that what he thought of me? I wasn’t boring and predictable. Okay, yes, I liked routine and for things to be organised, but I could have fun. Awkward? Of course I was awkward. I had a hippie for a mother. I knew I didn’t fit in with my friends. I didn’t like fashion and gossip because they were a mindless waste of time. And the sex? Well, maybe it wasn’t that great because we’d only done it a few times. I was a virgin until just before we broke up. It wasn’t that great for me either. Maybe he didn’t know what he was doing. Stupid, self-obsessed loser.
I decided to send him a simple thank you text. I didn’t want to send him an offensive one or not send one at all because then he would think that he’d got to me. He hadn’t. Okay, maybe he had, but I didn’t want him to know that. I deleted his number and then erased Christina’s as well.
So if I was boring and predictable, that meant I needed to learn to have fun and let loose, and I only had the rest of the summer holidays to do that.
Christina and I were very different. While I tried my hardest to fit in because I was finally accepted by her friends, I never actually felt like myself. Where she liked shopping and partying, I was quite happy to stay home and read books or watch movies. Don’t get me wrong; I partied but not every weekend. I had school to think about. And uni.
I needed to show Chace he was wrong. I needed to show him I was unpredictable, wild, and fun. I needed to show him what he’d lost and was never getting back. I needed to get up from my bed, get out of the house, get some fresh air and a little sun, maybe a tan. It was summer after all. So, swinging my legs off the bed, I pushed myself up and walked over to my closet. I could hardly go outside in pyjama shorts and a t-shirt.
Looking through my extensive collection of clothes, I realised I had nothing to wear. Everything in my closet was a replica of Christina’s, only much cheaper. Since I hated shopping, I’d let her dictate what I should buy and wear. Her style, and ultimately mine, had been preppy. My closet was overflowing with polo shirts, knitted sweaters, chinos, and tennis skirts. It was repulsive, really. No wonder I was awkward. Who the hell feels comfortable wearing plaid skirts and blazers to a high school that doesn’t have a uniform?
Groaning in frustration, I decided I needed to get a job so I could buy my own clothes in my own style, whatever that may be. Pulling out the only dress that was decent—a simple white kind of shift—I applied a little bit of makeup and threw my blonde hair in a messy bun on top of my head, put on a pair of sandals, and grabbed my bag. I was ready to go.
Instead of fresh air and sun, I was going job hunting. The sooner I had money, the sooner I could go and do the dreaded shopping.
“I’m going out. See you later,” I called to my mother, who was in the kitchen making herbal tea as I bounded down the stairs.
“You’re what?” She met me at the front door looking very surprised. “Good to see you up.”
“I’m going to find a summer job.” I kissed her on the cheek and headed out the door before she could say anything else.
After wandering around town for hours, it seemed as though no one was hiring. I was ready to give up and go home when I spotted a small sign in the window of my favourite quaint little bookshop. Smiling to myself, the first real smile since Chace and I broke up, I pushed open the door and stepped inside.
The musty smell of paper and ink hit me as soon as I closed the door. I loved that smell. Pausing to look around the store for a moment, I noticed the collection of books had increased since the last time I’d visited. Now this store was nothing like a Borders or any other large-scale commercial bookstore. The lighting was dull, making everything glow orange. Mismatched timber bookcases stacked right up to the ceiling stood against every wall. Books were piled onto shelves and stacked on the floor.
I made my way through the store, the worn floorboards creaking with each step. I passed the couches and coffee table in the centre of the room and walked to the back, where a balding Mr. Romanov was standing behind his desk. He looked up as I approached.
“Bailey, my dear. I haven’t seen you for a while,” he said, smiling and removing his glasses.
“How are you?” I smiled and allowed him to grasp my hand and shake it gently. “I know. I was busy at school with homework, but it’s the holidays now, so I have plenty of time. How’s Mrs. Romanov?” I asked. His wife was a lovely lady. She was like a grandmother to me. I loved going in there in my free time to read and chat about books over a cup of tea with them.
“Well. Well. We’re very well. What brings you in today, my dear? I just received a new copy of One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest.” He spun around and searched through a pile of books on the counter before pulling out a tattered copy of my favourite book. When he said new, he meant new to the store. Most of his books were second-hand. Some were new, of course, like new releases and such, but the majority of them were second-hand. There were some great finds in that store if you knew where to look.
“Oh, thank you, but not today. I’m here about the job in the window. I’m looking for something over the summer and something I can do around school,” I told him, watching as his eyes lit up.
“When can you start?” he asked, clapping his hands together. No interview. Nothing.
“Don’t you want to ask me a few questions or something?” I tilted my head and watched him curiously.
“What? No, of course not. You’ll be perfect. So when can you start?”
That was easy. “Uh, tomorrow. Whenever, really.” I’d never had a job before.
“Well, my dear Bailey, we shall see you at ten a.m. tomorrow for your first day of work.” He smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling, and shook my hand.
“Thank you so much, Mr. Romanov. You won’t be disappointed.” I smiled back before leaving to go home to tell my mother.
I practically skipped through my front door when I got home. The overpowering smell of incense burning stopped me in my tracks and made me cough. Sometimes I wondered if my mother had ever heard the expression, “Less is more.” Deciding to leave the door open to let some of the smell out, I went in search of my mother.
“Bailey?” I heard my mother enquire from her studio. Who else would be wandering around her house?
“I got a job,” I announced as I walked in, ignoring the weird way her body was contorted. I wasn’t sure it was natural for a limb to bend like that, but she seemed completely comfortable. She was way too flexible for her age, but I guessed years of yoga would do that to you.
“Oh, sweetheart, that’s wonderful. Congratulations. Where?” She looked somewhat relieved.
“At Maurice’s Books. I start tomorrow.”
“That’s perfect for you. Well done, baby.”
Chapter Four