“You think?” Sarah gently bit her lip.
I nodded. “I know. I just met him a few minutes ago, and he’s super easygoing and friendly, like Rosar in his books.”
Sarah beamed at my mentioning Rosar. “Will you go with me to meet him?”
“Of course I will.” I glanced at the line. “Let’s get you back in your old spot. Looks like you’re up next.”
The man that had stood behind Sarah let her back in with a friendly wave. Sarah immediately froze when she came face-to-face with Z.T. Morgan.
Z.T. eyed her paperback books and raised an eyebrow. “Wow. These are all yours?”
Sarah nodded, unable to speak.
I mouthed to Z.T., “Super nervous.”
He got it. Z.T. examined each book and saw the cracks in the spines. “I’m honored that you’ve loved these books so well.”
Sarah stared at Z.T., still rooted in place.
Z.T. tried a different tactic. “Who’s your favorite character?”
Sarah took a moment, looking up at me for help. I nodded encouragingly and hoped she’d find her voice.
Finally, Sarah turned to Z.T., hands shaking. “Chantrel.”
Z.T. clapped his hands together with joy. “I knew it! You remind me of her. I bet you wish you could fly too.”
Sarah’s shoulders relaxed even more, and she nodded. “I really like that she’s smarter than all the boys the most though.”
“Just wait until the next book. You’re never going to believe what she does to Thrent.”
Sarah had completely forgotten about me and was having the time of her life. It filled me with a surging happiness to see Sarah talking to her hero without doing something I would do, like puke or knock over all his books. Small favors.
I moved back to the register, giving them space.
Josh’s voice surprised me from behind when he said, “That was sweet of you.”
I was way worse than Sarah. I’d been working with Josh for three months, and I still had barely spoken to him. I desperately wanted to say thank you, but my mouth stopped working.
So I did something even better. I laughed in a short, strange huff.
Because that wasn’t weird at all.
Thankfully, a customer handed me a book to be purchased right after that beauty of a laugh. My hands shook, but I took the book and rang it up on the register. Apparently, my vocal cords were still on the fritz, so I pointed to the total. When they gave me the proper amount of money, I tossed the book in a bag and handed it back to the customer, wishing they’d stay because now I had to face Josh again.
“What was that all about?” Josh asked innocently.
“What was what? What was what all about?” Words! I spoke words! It’s a miracle.
“That customer. You looked as though you saw a ghost.”
“Oh that . . . that was nothing . . . period I guess.”
Okay.
Can I die now?
Yup.
Still here.
Still told the guy I liked that I was having my period.
Okay, time to retreat.
“Excuse me,” I said and practically ran into the stacks of the bookstore, not wanting to contemplate the confused expression on Josh’s face when I left him.
Why would those words come out of my mouth? Why?
I stopped somewhere in the Classics section, and I verbally grumbled to myself. What now? Should I stand here until . . . what?
Trying to make myself useful (since I was technically at work), I noticed a few books out of place and slid them back into their proper spots.
As I put The Count of Monte Cristo back in its rightful home, Edmond Dantès himself popped into existence next to me. He looked as if he had stepped out of the Château d’If prison, with worn and tattered clothes that matched his worn and tattered skin.
Edmond leaned up against the shelf, shaking his head. “The first time you talk to Josh, and you tell him you’re having your period?”
“I got nervous. I don’t know. He complimented me. You know I can’t handle those. Like at all.”
“Clearly. Your imagining me here is proof.” Edmond shrugged.
I sighed. “What am I going to do?”
Edmond peeled away from the shelf and stroked his scraggly beard in thought. “A compliment, huh? What did he say? That you’re beautiful?” Then he rolled his eyes and said in the most sarcastic tone possible, “What a beast.”
I groaned. “No, of course not. He said he thought I was sweet for taking care of that little girl over there.”
Edmond peered around the stacks, and his expression softened. “If only you could talk to adults the way you talk to kids and fictional book characters.”
“Tell me about it.”
Eyeing Rachel near the counter, Edmond’s eyes narrowed into slits. “What about that Rachel woman? I have a knack for vengeance. I could help you out?”
“No. I’ve had enough violence in my life to last a lifetime. I don’t want any of that.” And if I was being honest, Rachel was the closest thing I had to a mom since my parents were killed. A horribly grumpy, annoying mom, but I’d somehow grown used to her. She was mostly bark anyway, no real bite, so far at least.
“Who said anything about violence? A really good vengeance plan requires taking down a person’s internal and external existence. No violence needed.” He seemed very pleased by his explanation.
“Rachel is harmless. Honestly, I just think she’s miserable and takes it out on me. I don’t think she gets out much.” As in, not at all. I was pretty sure she never left this building.
“There’s no excuse for cruelty. Mean is mean. I don’t care what your story is.”
“Maybe. But I need this job, so I can handle it.” And I loved this job, and I loved this place. I didn’t think I could survive mentally without them.
Edmond sighed. “Well, if you need—”
Rachel grabbed my arm and yanked me out of my daydream. “What are you doing back here? I told you to organize the fans!”
“Oh, uh, sorry.” I fumbled over my words. Glancing at the doorway, it was crowded with fans, blocking other customers from entering the store.
Before Rachel yelled at me again,
