Page 17 of The Summer of Everything

Wes yells, “Have a page-turning day!” to his final customer before trying to brain himself on the counter. He’s all for Ella destroying the patriarchy, crushing male ego, and having a little fun while she’s at it. But he kind of wants to keep his job too.

“Oh, great,” says Ella, exasperated. “Lucifer takes a human form.”

Wearily, Wes lifts his head. Striding through the door is a white guy with gravity-defying sandy-blond hair and gleeful blue eyes. Wes recognizes him from Nico’s Instagram feed—Cooper. He’s shorter than Wes, thankfully, because otherwise he’s quite attractive, one of those guys that needs to be in Urban Outfitters’ social media ads. Wes swears California is nothing but beautiful people and tourists.

Slung across Cooper’s chest is a messenger bag. His right hand plays with the strap while his left hand holds his phone out in front of him. He’s talking to the camera, probably recording a video.

“Queen Ella,” Cooper says, shuffling closer. “Say hello to my followers!”

Ella shoots him the stink eye, then turns to his phone. “Eat shit.”

“Yup, that’s my co-worker!” Cooper says as if Ella gave him a high-five instead of a verbal middle finger. “She’s hella dope.”

Wes mouthsWhat the hellto Ella. She sighs, mumbling, “Social media minion.”

Cooper wanders into the aisles, greeting customers and introducing them to his phone’s camera.

“Is he always like that?” Wes says.

Cooper’s cornered Mrs. Rossi and is half-hugging her while trying to take a selfie. She giggles and poses with two fingers up in the peace sign. A short line of customers waits to join the selfie movement.

“I don’t like him,” Ella says.

“Why?”

“Do I need a reason?”

If you’re Ella Graham? Probably not.But Wes is too entertained by Cooper’s attempts to angle his camera to catch the right lighting while standing with three young Black girls. Wes whispers, “He seems nice.”

“Vampires seem nice until they find out you’re a virgin who bleeds easily.”

“You’ve read one too many Savannah Kirk books,” Wes says, shaking his head.

“Yo, dude.” Cooper slips behind the counter, holding out a fist. “Wes Hudson, correct?”

Wes warily bumps Cooper’s fist. “Uh. Yeah.”

Cooper pulls his hand back and makes this intenseka-boomnoise with his mouth while wiggling his fingers in a weird, jazz hands way. Ella’s right. This guy obviously can’t be trusted.

“I’m your replacement,” he says.

Wes’s eyebrows shoot up his forehead.

“I mean, not like…” Cooper’s cheeks flush. “I was your part-time fill-in while you were away. But Mrs. Rossi, the coolest of cool bosses, said she’d like to make my position at the store permanent, which would be sick, because this place is wicked. Books on books on books, you know?”

Wes nods, pasting on a smile.

Cooper smiles back, showing off a dimple in his left cheek. He slips off his bag and drops it amongst the other random clutter behind the counter. “It’s a great gig. But don’t touch the comics, right?”

“Correct.”

Cooper leans uncomfortably close. His nose nearly touches Wes’s.Personal space much?He whispers, eyes wide, “I heard you once stabbed a guy for dog-earing a Superman book.”

Wes hadn’t. It was a total accident involving a pen and minimal bloodshed. Also, it was two years ago.

“I feel you, bro.” Cooper backs away, nodding. “I’m there.”

Are you?Wes wants to ask. From the corner of his eye, he can spot Ella shooting them aggravated glares.

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