Page 15 of The Summer of Everything

“Anna’s high,” Wes comments.

“Maybe,” Zay says, grabbing a stack of books that need to be reshelved. “But she digs it. The customers do too.”

Throughout the store, people browse while swaying or bopping their heads. One guy mouths the words to “Fast Car.” Traitors, all of them.

“Yikes. Scary.”

Once again, Wes startles out of a daydream, this time to find Anna leaning over the counter. Popcorn flowers are braided into a crown around the top of her head. “Okay, help me out here,” she says, tucking pieces of wavy hair behind her left ear to expose a sparkly line of piercings. “I have this customer looking for a funny book… but with aliens.”

Wes’s face pinches.It better not be Mr. X-Files.

“Uh.”

Although Wes has spent more time in the bookstore than his own bed, he’s not exactly the resident bibliophile here. That’s Ella. But he knows enough about books to reply, “The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy,” without looking like a total novice. “Book’s better than the movie.”

“Aren’t they all?”

Wes snorts. Truth.

“And that is…?”

Sometimes, Wes forgets how new Anna is. He only spent two weeks training her before he left. After that, she was in the very incapable hands of Ella.

“Sci-fi.” Wes nods to a long wall opposite the front counter. “And if they really want a good book, tell them to getWe Are the Antsalso.”

“Thanks,” Anna says, skipping off with a smile too naïve for her to manage any portion of this store.

Wes settles onto the stool behind the counter. He’s not jealous of Anna’s situation. It’s not as if he has time to go for a promotion. Not with college.

But if I didn’t go to school…

No. Wes can’t entertain that thought. But the problem is, it keeps creeping into his mind—not going to college but staying here, in Santa Monica, and helping Mrs. Rossi run the bookstore. Maybe it’ll be easier to figure himself out in a place he knows than waste four years and end up in debt. And then what? A ridiculous amount of statistics show that most college graduates don’t end up working in their field. So Wes is going to dedicate years to learning a subject, only to end up doing anything other than whatever he decides to study? It makes no sense to him.

But, all around Wes, everyone has their future figured out.

Ella Graham. UCLA. Communication.

Xavier “Zay” Jones. Plans to attend UCLA. Music Performance.

Anna Wooten. Santa Monica College. Business.

Nico Alvarez. Stanford. Biology.

Wes Hudson. UCLA. Undeclared. Most likely majoring in Loserology with a minor in Confusedonomics.

His chest is tight. Every time Wes’s mind drifts like this, his vision goes mildly hazy. More than once, he’s bitten his lip bloody. He should’ve figured all this out in Italy. It’s as if Wes is the Chosen One, who’s supposed to step into this destined role of well-adjusted, college-bound adult and conquer the world at eighteen. But now he’s two months away from disappointing everyone in his life.

Wes stares pointedly at the chipped wooden surface of the counter until his heart slows down. It’s fine. He’s fine. This whole adulthood thing isn’t going to ruin his summer.

Chapter Five

“It’s so good to haveyou back.” Mrs. Rossi rests a wrinkled hand over Wes’s on the front counter, looking at him with tired, russet-brown eyes. Afternoon sunlight reflects off her bright pink hair. “These other kids are going to give a sweet old woman gray hair before her time.”

Wes smirks. Mrs. Rossi is a certified fireball. Even in her late fifties, everything about her is still sparkly and captivating and lethal when handled the wrong way.

“Careful,” he says in a half-warning, half-joking tone, “Mr. Rossi wouldn’t appreciate that.”

“Ah, that goofball. He keeps me dancing, you know.”

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