Page 67 of The Summer of Everything

He loved the way Sarina talked with her entire face. Once ivy-green eyes and a button nose and a mouth softer than a peach’s skin.

Oz’s mother believed teenagers, especially boys, only wanted three things: control, the future, and sex.

Not Oz.

He didn’t want the world. He only wanted to cradle it in his palm for a little while. He only wanted to bring Sarina back…

But not as a zombie. Oz never meant for that to happen.

Maybe his mother was right. Maybe Oz wanted to control one thing: the future. His future. With Sarina.

But maybe that’s what all teenagers wanted.

—Savannah Kirk,The Language of Dead Hearts

Chapter Sixteen

Summer weekends inside Once Upona Page are always a strange mix of a traffic pileup and a graveyard. Mornings can be a quiet, serene landscape, mostly due to the Third Street Promenade Farmer’s Market, with random customers popping in to browse but never buy. Afternoons are a hellscape of people fleeing the heat or in search of their next beach read.

Luckily, Wes has at least an hour before that crowd clogs up the aisles.

He eyes all the comic books in his favorite corner as Lucas practices arranging them.

“What about this?” asks Lucas.

Wes taps his chin, then squints for a long moment. He knows Lucas is dying for his validation. But he also knows it’s hilarious making Lucas sweat.

“It’s okay.”

Lucas squeaks. “What?”

“Nah,” Wes says teasingly. “It’s great.”

A hearty shade of red paints their cheeks as Lucas crumples. There’s a peal of laughter from behind them. Lucas stands on their toes to get a better view. “What’s that about?”

Wes peeks over his shoulder. Cooper and Kyra lean suspiciously close over the counter. “Nothing.” Wes turns back to Lucas. “They’re planning an open mic night for the bookstore.”

“Really?”

“Yup. We’re trying to do a few things to up sales. You know, bring in a bigger crowd.”

“That’s so cool,” says Lucas, eyes twinkling. “Can anyone come?”

“What? You got some sweet vocal skills you’re keeping hidden?” Wes nudges Lucas’s shoulder. “I bet you rock out hard to Bon Iver.”

“Yuck.” Lucas sticks out their tongue, shivering. “I’m big on synth-pop. Stuff influenced by the ‘80s.”

“That’s a mood,” says Wes, chuckling. “I can get behind that.”

“Can you? I’ve heard the garbage you listen to,” Lucas says. “Weezer? Ugh.”

Wes points an accusing finger at Lucas’s nose. “Don’t disrespect the power of Rivers Cuomo.”

Lucas makes a sour face.

“You’re not invited to the open mic night,” Wes says, chin tipped up. “You’re not qualified to hang with the big dogs.”

“All I see is a puppy,” Lucas jokes.

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