Page 18 of The Summer of Everything

“So, like.” Cooper’s thumbs move rapidly over his phone screen. “Follow me back on Twitter. Add me on IG. And TikTok. Accept my Snapchat request. Oh, I’m still on Tumblr even though I’m not down with their censorship issues. I only Marco Polo with close fam and friends. But you fill those categories already.”

Wes’s own phone vibrates as if it’s having a seizure. He has no less than five notifications from his various social media accounts. He’s being followed on each one by Cooper “Coop” Shaw.

“FB’s not really my thing anymore, but, you know, I make exceptions if that’s your jam,” Cooper continues.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Feel free to subscribe to my YouTube channel too.” Cooper briefly flashes his phone screen in Wes’s face before returning to tapping away. “Do you Kik?”

“Um, sometimes?”

“It’s all good, bro.” Cooper pockets his phone, then rubs his hands together. “All right. Time to get to business. These books won’t sell themselves.”

Ella repeats, “I don’t like him,” as Cooper disappears into the aisles.

Wes isn’t sure what the hell just happened, but Cooper’s definitely likeable.

Thirty minutes later, Cooper’s staringat Wes with an absurdly creepy smile.

“What?” Wes grunts, too lazy to add any other words. The afternoon is melting perfectly with the weather, slowing time to a crawl. It’s still fifteen minutes to three. It’s been an eternity to Wes.

“Dude,” Cooper says, dropping his voice to a whisper, leaning far too close again. Wes needs to have a serious discussion about personal boundaries. Soon. “Word on the street is…” Cooper looks around as if they’re being watched. “Savannah Kirk is the beginning of your origin story?”

“She’s what?”

“Your mom,” Cooper hisses.

“Yeah,” Wes says. “Something like that.”

“Bro.” Cooper smacks his hand on the counter, the noise like a crack of thunder. “Savannah Kirk is your mom.”

Wide-eyed, Wes leans back. “Okay, first of all,chill,” he says, holding up a hand.

“How is that possible?”

“Um. I believe my parents had intercourse?” Wes wants to take those words back immediately. It’s cringeworthy. No, his parents did not have sex. That’s gross. Wes was created from clay and magic like Wonder Woman.

Cooper repeats, “Savannah Kirk is your—”

Wes cuts him off. “Stop. I know.” Thing is, Wes has met Cooper’s kind before, the ones who worship authors as if they’re superhuman. But they’re not; his mom’s not. She burns toast and overcooks spaghetti. But a small part of Wes can relate to Cooper’s excitement. He went through a similar phase the first time he readThe Lightning Thief. Not that Savannah Kirk has ever written a character as cool as Percy Jackson, but Wes understands the power an author has to unlock parts of yourself you’d never seen before.

“She’s just a normal mom, you know.” Wes’s foot wiggles on the stool’s bottom rung to whatever’s playing overhead. “Her name’s Jordan Hudson. She’s just a writer.”

“Just a writer—as if.” There’s so much wax and product in Cooper’s hair, it barely moves when he shakes his head. “She’s a goddess.”

“Think so? You should try her meatloaf.” Wes pushes fingers into his curls. “She’s a mom. Nothing special.”

“Uh, hate to break it to you, but moms are epic,” Cooper tells him.

Wes is sure Ella would disagree, but when it comes to his own mom, she is pretty solid. She knows way too many hashtags, but she’s also massively supportive of who he is. Plus, she gives great hugs. So, yeah, Wes’s mom crushes epic.

“Sweet Brendon Urie, what is this?” Ella stomps up to the front counter, arms folded across her chest. Her annoyed expression, not to be confused with her burn-in-hell one, is in full effect: scrunched mouth and squinted eyes.

“What is what?” Cooper asks.

“Thisnoise.” Ella points toward the ceiling, indicating the music.

Admittedly, Wes has heard worse, courtesy of Zay. The song sounds vaguely ‘80s, though Wes’s knowledge of that era is restricted to the music he’s heard in movies.

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