Page 38 of The Summer of Everything

“You know what I mean.”

Wes does. But he also hates thinking about the end of summer. It’s this loud, unavoidable countdown in his head.

In September, he’ll be at UCLA.

In September, Nico will be at Stanford.

In September, Wes is supposed to step out of being a teenaged slacker and become this instant adult who has career goals, relationship goals, money goals. So many goals. He’s supposed to study hard, graduate, get a six-figure job. He’s supposed to prove to the world that he’s responsible and capable of solving things with next to zero stress, but that’s all he sees in adults—stress and money problems and failures.

Who wants that?

He should probably tell Ella all of this, but when she says, a grin in her voice, “We’re gonna kick ass at UCLA,” he falters.

“Go Bruins,” Wes replies, trying to drum up as much enthusiasm as possible. Absentmindedly, his arm tightens around her. Ella snuggles in; her head rests on his collarbone.

“Oh god, you reek of the hell spawn,” she mumbles.

“We were at the pier. Anna, Kyra, Coop…”

“Nico?”

“Yeah.”

Ella snort-giggles. “So I missed the crew.”

You did. Wes doesn’t say it. Thing is, he and Ella fight occasionally. Most friends do. But they don’t do apologies. Well, Wes does sometimes, but Ella definitely doesn’t. He thinks it’s against her emo-punk code.

“Coop thinks we should…” Wes struggles to finish. It’s been on his mind, what Cooper said at the pier. Fighting for the bookstore. How they’re in the endgame and all that. “He thinks we shouldn’t just give up.”

Ella wiggles a little on the sofa, but she doesn’t say anything.

“I dunno. I kind of think, maybe he’s right?” Wes continues. “I have no clue what to do, but maybe we should consider it?”

“Consider what?”

“Doing anything other than rolling over and letting this rank coffee franchise just take over our turf.”

“Our turf?” repeats Ella, mockingly. “Gee, Wes, do you want to put together a petition and hold a rally too?”

Wes slides his arm off her shoulders. “I don’t want to just sit around and lose everything.”

She’s silent again, curled on the sofa. Her hair falls around her face, blocking Wes’s view of her expression. But, softly, she says, “Fine.” Before Wes can jump on the sofa and fist-pump, she adds, “But we’re not discussing any of this with Mrs. Rossi.”

“Okay,” Wes agrees. It’s not the perfect solution, but it’s a start.

* * *

Little Tony’s Big Slice isnearly empty when Wes arrives after closing the bookstore. The family traffic has vacated the premises. Couples sit at round tables while a few solo diners eat pizza, swiping greasy fingers over their phone screens. The bookstore crew has already snagged a corner booth near the back. It’s a tight fit with six people but it works.

“Is this an intervention?” Cooper asks as Wes slides into the booth.

“What?” Zay peeps over his plastic menu.

“Listen. I know some of you…” Cooper glances at Ella. “…don’t approve of my musical choices, but I’m getting better.”

“You played Peter Gabriel today.” Ella glares back. “I didn’t even know what a Peter Gabriel was until today.”

Cooper frowns. “But you let him…” He points at Zay. “…play Nina Simone for an hour.”

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