12. A Star Is Born
12
A Star Is Born
My feet are sore by the time I get through the front door and kick off my shoes.
“Bobby?” Cass calls from the living room. “We’re in here.”
I enter our living room turned art studio to find Cass, papers fanned out in front of her, showing off her concept design sketches to Uncle Andy.
“Kinetic and gravity-defying, but interactive,” she says as she grips his arm and points to a set of drawings. “They’re sure to keep Bobby in college.”
“They’re unbelievable, Cass. Really,” Uncle Andy says.
“I made Cajun stew.” Cass squats to gather up her sketches. “And Wanda dropped off your backpack. She’s in a stream now but wants to hang out later.” Cass starts humming Annie Lennox. Walking on, walking on, walking on …
I see my backpack on a kitchen chair and grab my wallet and phone. There is a missed call and texts, all from Wanda.
Uncle Andy removes the lid from the pot and stirs. “Don’t worry. I doctored it. How was the launch?”
I don’t want to lie to Uncle Andy, so I decide to leave out the part where my lizard brain went into overdrive, and I ran. “Amazing,” I say and jump into details of how fabulous the Baroness was. I’ve since been thinking about how I’d organize a similar event at Corner Books. “I’m going to get her into your store one day.”
“Baby steps. We’re not ready to host anyone of that magnitude.”
“Yet.”
“Yet,” Uncle Andy agrees, ladling out stew. “Let’s see how your graphic novel book club goes.”
Cass joins us and upon her first taste proclaims, “I told you the spiciness would mellow out as it cooked.”
Uncle Andy’s eyes crinkle as he smiles at me.
After dinner and a shower, I head upstairs to Wanda’s in my pajamas with By Midnight’s Stroke in hand. I borrow a pair of Hello Kitty slippers from the front hall and drop Ms. Lee’s dinner beside their rice cooker on the kitchen counter before heading back to Wanda’s bedroom.
“Sims?” I place a container of the stew beside Wanda and flop onto the chair she placed off-camera for me so even if she’s streaming, we can hang out. I know she’s not broadcasting because of her sloppy bun and old sweatshirt.
“A bunch of new mods released a couple of hours ago. It’s hilarious.”
“Playing solo?”
“With an online friend.”
“Anyone I know?”
“Not really. We’re still getting to know each other.”
I peek over her shoulder and see the player’s handle, chickn_backflip, hovering over their character.
Before I settle in to read, I ask, “How did the Baroness react?”
Wanda leaves her character going to the washroom. “She did the splits.”
“You’re making that up.”
Wanda fixes me with a stare. “She climbed onto the table, let out this holler, then jumped into the air and landed in the splits. Everyone forgot about you. She said to tell you she’s had her share of guy trouble and hopes she’ll meet you again. What was it she said? The course of true love …”
“Never did run smooth,” I finish. “I can’t believe I missed it.” But hearing the Baroness’s message to me somehow makes my feet hurt a little less.
“It wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t run,” Wanda says.
“I didn’t plan to. My brain was telling me to get out of there. My legs followed orders.”
“At least it was only a few books you crashed into this time,” Wanda says. “Truman told me he’s not going to stop texting to check on you even if you don’t answer.”
“I’m trying to move on and salvage this summer. Dean Perez told me explicitly no guys.”
“Don’t let that become your excuse not to deal with the Truman stuff.” Wanda’s character begins DJ’ing and soon her house is filled with partying Sims.
“My comeback can’t involve me looking back.”
As much as I want to read By Midnight’s Stroke , Wanda and I are overdue for a talk. I spill my guts about Truman and the Summer of Bobby and my plans to turn it around.
Wanda listens, occasionally checking her screen to reply to chickn_backflip. When I’m done, she says matter-of-factly, “Plans can change.”
“They can still work with some adjustments.”
“There’s nothing wrong with starting over. Doing something new. It keeps things fresh.”
“I hear you, Wan,” I say. “But it’s my summer. I can’t just walk away from it.”
“No. Running is more your style.”
I launch one of Wanda’s Sailor Moon pillows at her.
She settles into her game, and I start to read.
I must fall asleep because I wake up to Wanda’s mom telling her to turn off the games and get some rest. Ms. Lee covers me with a blanket and kisses her fingertips and plants them to Wanda’s forehead then does the same to mine before she leaves the room.
Ms. Lee drops me off for my shift at Corner Books the next day. I see Gladys arguing with a customer through the front windows and I’m barely through the door when I hear my name. Cindy comes at me, wrapping her arms around me and pulling me into a hug.
“I had to come down here. I was skeptical, I admit it,” Cindy says, releasing me. “Your pick was exactly what I needed.”
I look down and see Cindy’s wedding band back on her finger. “That’s awesome.”
“I’ve been telling everyone. Everyone,” Cindy continues. “They’ve got to come down to Corner Books to meet the Book Whisperer. It’s what I’ve been calling you.”
“I’ve called him a few things too,” Gladys says.
Cindy shoots daggers at Gladys. “Anyway, I’ve got yoga soon and my instructor has been having an awful time getting Campus Books to keep his recommended titles on hand. Is that something Corner Books could do?”
In my periphery, I see Uncle Andy approaching us. “Great to see you again, Cindy. Absolutely, we can. Send him in.”
“Perfection,” Cindy says. “I’ll bring him in with the girls from class in a few hours. You’ll be here, right, Bobby? I want them to meet you and you’ve got to see our yoga instructor. When they advertise hot yoga, they mean him. I may not be in the headspace for someone new, but looking is no commitment.”
I laugh. “I’ll be here.”
Cindy stops on her way past the register and picks up a flyer from the counter. “You’re hosting a book club? I know there’s the one at Campus Books, but you have to apply and apparently no one gets in. A couple of my girlfriends have been on the waitlist for years.”
I wrinkle my nose at the mention of Campus Books’ book club. I heard all about the waitlist, first as rumors when I applied and later when Campus Books’ managers and the longstanding club members discussed applications and how people scored. It was a joke that most of the applicants were so far down the list because of their score they’d be dead before they were ever invited.
At the time, I felt proud I’d ranked high enough to be asked in on probation before being made a full member. My being chosen for book club was the final nail in the coffin for my friendship with Evie Bosendorfer, whose application was rejected. Remembering this and how I thought nothing of it at the time, I feel ashamed for thinking I was above anyone when I probably only made it in due to the spot the club held for high schoolers.
When I brought up the idea of hosting Corner Books’ own book club, the first thing I got rid of was a selection process. As long as people are respectful of the store and each other, everyone is welcome.
“It’s a new thing we’re trying out,” I say. “If you know anyone who would be interested, take some flyers for them.”
“I know a lot of people,” Cindy says.
“Take the entire stack. We can print more.” I put all the flyers into a paper bag and hand it to Cindy.
“I’ll make sure these get distributed,” Cindy says, sliding the bag onto her arm.
Gladys studies Cindy before she asks, “What are your feelings about chartreuse?”
Cindy turns her head, considering. “That would really pop with a touch of neon violet.”
“I told you.” Gladys points a knobbly finger at me. “Her taste isn’t as bad as I imagined. Cindy, was it?”
Cindy turns back to me. “See you in a bit, Bobby.”
I smile. The Summer of Bobby is back stronger than ever. Luke was right. Today is better.