Page 47 of The Summer of Everything

“Aww.” Ella stands a few feet away, arms crossed, smirking. “Wes, have you gone soft? You never let anyone play with your toys.”

“It’s true, bro,” says Cooper.

“Ugh. Don’t agree with me,” Ella demands. “People might think we’re friends.”

“Aren’t we?” Cooper’s voice cracks.

Ella rolls her eyes, but her acting range is limited. Wes can spot the tiniest of grins trying to fight past her thundercloud expression.

Wes stares at the empty doorway. Warmth circulates through his veins. He must ween Lucas off their love for Deadpool and Fantastic Four, probably introduce them to the magnificence that is Static, but he’s okay with that.

It’s one more reason Wes needs to save Once Upon a Page. For kids like Lucas who need it as much as he does.

Chapter Eleven

From: Leo

Leeann said you’re going dress shopping tomorrow. Thanks!

Received 3:40 p.m.

From: Dad

English? They have Introduction to Graphic Fiction!

[link attached]

Received 4:16 p.m.

In Wes’s mildly unbiased opinion,Venice at sunset is one of the dreamiest views in the world. The sun splinters behind the horizon, stretching its fading rays into the sky, dyeing it a fiery tangerine pink. To Wes’s right, the ocean echoes its evening lullaby. Crashing waves sing like a choir. A warm breeze carries the tune all the way to the boardwalk where a carnival of musicians and joggers and peddlers create a flotilla Wes navigates through.

He’s halfway to Muscle Beach with no destination in mind. Leo lives nearby, in an apartment tucked into a quiet neighborhood. Wes contemplated stopping by. It’s the considerate thing to do, right? But Leeann’s at work, and that means it’d just be Wes and Leo and the television doing all the talking for them.No thanks. Plus, Wes’s already seeing Leeann tomorrow for dress shopping. She bribed him with Mexican food and smoothies, not that Wes required the extra incentive. He loves Leeann-time, especially when it doesn’t include his brother.

Wes roams the boardwalk with one earbud in and his phone pouring out the perfect soundtrack of mellow guitars and introspective lyrics—Red Hot Chili Peppers’ anthemicCalifornication. 1999 isn’t his favorite year in music, but this is one gem he can appreciate.

His mind is on a constant loop of, “How can I save Once Upon a Page?” and he needs a way to escape the deluge.

Left and right, people on bikes and skateboards maneuver around him as he strolls. He glances at his phone. He responded to Leo’s text with a thumbs-up emoji an hour ago. Wes still doesn’t know how to reply to his dad.

Thanks?

Okay.

Do they offer a Can’t Figure Out How to Talk to My Parents About My Future course, and what are the prerequisites?

Wes locks his phone. In times like this, maybe not responding is the best response? Avoiding things has worked out for him so far. Kind of.

“Springsteen, anyone?”

In the sea of artists selling original works and activists shouting about a better future, a white man stands hugging a beat-up acoustic guitar. A beanie sits lopsided on top of his wild hair. Smears of dirt cross his cheeks and forehead. Friendly blue eyes look out on the decent-sized audience he’s acquired. In a throaty voice, he says, “Any requests?”

Wes pauses to watch.

Songs are shouted from everywhere, but one clear voice yells, “What about ‘I’m on Fire’?”

The man adjusts his guitar. His faded green army jacket nearly swallows his thin frame as it flaps with the breeze. “I knew you were a good group.” His warm smile is minus a few teeth, but that only makes Wes want to shuffle closer.

It’s a slow, moody song. The man’s voice is hypnotic. Every lyric comes with a deepness that says he’s fought too many wars. He’s lost more than he’s won.

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