Page 71 of The Summer of Everything

“Which lowers the Pop-Tart’s overall approval rating,” Lucas counters. “Simplicity doesn’t always equal quality.”

Cooper smacks a hand over his eyes, groaning.

They’ve been at it for, according to the time on Wes’s phone, no less than thirty minutes. That’s enough time for Anna to come in for her shift, Kyra to pop into Brews and Views to grab a tea for Wes and a chocolate croissant for Anna, and Ella to take two breaks from helping Wes reshelve books.

It’s been chill since Cassie and her dad exited. The handful of shoppers, Cooper’s been able to manage while breaking down the science of Pop-Tarts for Lucas. Mrs. Rossi’s office door is ajar, but she’s not there. She called it quits an hour ago. But it’s not as though she’s been on the floor interacting with customers anyway. Mostly, Wes’s caught her looking over paperwork, occasionally pinching the bridge of her nose or rubbing her temples.

It’s left a mucky feeling in his stomach.

We need to raise money for this place ASAP.

Wes’s phone buzzes. He has five notifications staring him down: a calendar reminder about checking out potential floral shops with Leeann, a text from Leo he hasn’t bothered to read, two texts from Calvin he’s definitely avoiding. Honestly, Wes doesn’t know how to reply to him anymore. All these suggestions about college stress him the hell out.

Then there’s an Instagram notification from @manus808. He commented on Wes’s last post. Wes is saving it for his break, which he hopes is soon, because he could kill at least two carnitas tacos and a MexiCoke from Taco Libre right now.

“I’ve got news from Zay.” Ella’s perched on the counter with her phone raised.

Wes pauses, a small book stack in his arms.

“He’s possibly lined up an author to do an event here.”

A wave of excited nausea hits Wes’s stomach. He rearranges the books under one arm. “Who?”

Ella’s mouth puckers, a move Wes recognizes as hesitation. Then she says, “Morgan Weatherford.”

Wes’s arm goes slack. He falters, almost dropping the books but catches himself.

Morgan Weatherford? Hell. No.

“Who?” Cooper asks, head tilted.

“You know.TheMorgan Weatherford.” Ella flaps a hand around. “He wroteHeir of Dragons.”

“Oh.” Cooper drags out the “H” forever, rubbing his chin. “Dude’s ancient. Didn’t that book come out like eight years ago?”

“And yet…” Ella waves her phone in Cooper’s face. “…that book still sells like mad. They even made a movie.”

“Not a good one,” Lucas says, frowning.

This is why Lucas remains in Wes’s friend club. Lucas gets it. Morgan Weatherford blows. He’s a subpar author who writes the same tired girl-princess fantasy, where some rando guy is her only agency and helps save her kingdom, that men have thought they could pull off for decades. Problem is, the people with power—also privileged men—have been boosting guys like Weatherford for just as long. The patriarchy at its finest.

Plus, Weatherford was a total dick to Savannah when she asked for a blurb for her fifth book. Wes has never forgotten watching his mom restrain tears while explaining it to his dad at her birthday dinner a few years ago.

“No,” Wes says firmly.

“Zay says that’s all he can find,” says Ella. “We need someone. Soon. We don’t have forever to save this place.”

“We don’t have long at all,” Anna says, appearing from the back, a stack of papers in her hands.

Holy Shazam, is everyone creeping Mrs. Rossi’sprivatethings?

Wes doesn’t have much room to complain, since he’s organizing this entire plan behind Mrs. Rossi’s back, but still.

“September sixth. That’s it. That’s all we have,” Anna says, flipping through the documents.

A scream is crawling up Wes’s throat. He shuts his eyes.Deep breaths. He can fix this.

“There have to be other options,” he says, voice strained. “It’s freaking L.A.”

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