Page 36 of Wish You Were Her
“Remember I mentioned my secret pen-pal?”
“Yes,” Grace said. “I haven’t told anyone.”
“I think it’s Simon.”
“Shut up!”
“Yeah. I’ve been emailing a bookseller from the shop since before I arrived, only he still doesn’t know it’s me.”
Grace’s mouth dropped open and she made a delighted sound of surprise. “Seriously?”
“Yes.”
“You and Simon?”
“Yes.”
“Wait, you definitely know it’s him?”
“Well,” Allegra winced. “I’m not one thousand percent sure. He never signs his name. But I’ve caught him at the monitor seconds after receiving an email and sometimes he sends pictures of books, and one of the pictures was from his den. I worked that out tonight. Also, he uses a lot of the expressions from his emails in real life.”
“But how can he not know it’s you? And what kind of emails, Allegra?”
Allegra laughed at the pointed curiosity in the latter question. “Friendly ones. I emailed the shop from my private email, intended it for Dad as I thought he was the only one with access to it. Simon replied. We started—”
“Flirting?”
Grace retraced her steps so she and Allegra were inches apart. Allegra appreciated the closeness, she didn’t want any eavesdroppers.
“No. Maybe. I don’t know. We talk more than anything else. About anything.”
“But you never told him you were you?”
“No.”
Grace blinked and crossed her arms. Allegra watched her try to piece together the whole story in her mind. “Who does he think you are?”
“I have no idea! Some out-of-towner who’s interested in the book festival. He kind of assumed I work in social media, and I didn’t correct him. But the emails are sweet. They’re charming and they made me realize how lonely I was and how much I needed a break.”
“But it’s Simon?” Grace pointed out, seemingly a little baffled.
“Yes,” sighed Allegra. “He’s… different in his writing. Self-deprecating. Funny. Kind.”
“So, why does he act like such a…”
The girls shared a knowing look.
“I guess it’s just peacocking?” Allegra finally suggested.
“Yeah,” Grace said, though her attempt at enthusiastic agreement fell a little flat, and her skepticism was clear in her face. “I’m sure he’s different behind closed doors.”
The girls walked with excruciatingly slow speed toward the Arthouse once more before Grace was the one to stop.
“Why did you tell me about your pen-pal? I mean, I’m so glad you did. But why?”
Allegra was a girl with scripts always at the ready in her head. She was always a work in progress, a girl in rehearsal who was trying to play the perfect neurotypical. But when Grace so frankly asked the question, Allegra wanted to be honest.
“I don’t have anyone else to tell.”
