“And then your birthday in month, date, year format,” he says.
“April third…” I say, looking at the keyboard.
I type in my username: SHD04032000 and then the password, and what do you know, it works. Jonah finally takes a seat in the rolling computer chair next to me and he walks me through how to set up the chemistry lesson that we’re studying in class. The website is pretty good, as far as something boring like studying goes. We spend the rest of our time working the questions online and taking a few of the practice tests.
By the time we’re finished, I actually feel like I might know some stuff about chemistry now. No, I feel better than that. I feel like I’m going to pass the test.
“Thank you for showing me that website,” I say as we gather our things and log off the computer. “I’m feeling pretty confident for the test on Monday.”
Jonah grins, sliding his messenger bag over his shoulder. “Let me know how it goes, okay?”
“You’ll be the first person I tell,” I say. Then I give him a wink just to see if he blushes.
He totally does.
Chapter 10
In a strange turn of events, my mom goes to the store early on Saturday morning. She’d asked if I wanted to ride with her, but I was tired and needed a shower so I said no. By the time I arrive on my bike, it’s twenty minutes before the store opens and my mom is in a wonderful mood. I find her humming to herself while she erases the outdated message on the chalkboard easel we keep outside the store.
It’s such a drastic change from her usual gloom and doom mood that I’m not sure how to handle it. I park my bike at the nearby bike rack and lock it up with my neon green bike lock that I’ve had since sixth grade.
“Good morning, Mom,” I say, trying not to act too surprised by her good mood out of fear of sending her back into a bad one.
“Hi, sweetheart!” Mom’s short brown hair is pulled into a tiny ponytail at the back of her head. The little strands of hair up front are pulled out of the way with a black headband. She looks younger with her hair like that. Or maybe it’s the smile on her face that takes a decade off her appearance.
“I’ve got great news,” Mom says, her eyes flashing excitedly as she turns back to the chalk board. She takes a chalk pen and shakes it back and forth before uncapping it. These pens are really cool because they’re liquid chalk, which lasts a lot longer than normal chalk. Plus they’re more fun to write with.
“What’s the good news?” I ask.
“It’s not good news, it’sgreatnews,” she says. She leans back to let me see what she’s writing on the board.
NOW AVAILABLE, she’s written in big block letters.
Anticipation ratchets up in my chest as I watch her write each letter of what’s “now available” at our store. When she’s finished, she turns to look at me, her expression so hopeful it makes me feel really bad for what I’m about to say.
“Bestselling books?” I read the sign again to make sure I hadn’t imagined it. “What the hell does that mean?”
“Natalie,” Mom says sharply as she stands back up, capping the chalk pen. “I don’t need sarcasm or cursing. Come inside and help me unload the boxes.”
And boy is the front of the store filled with boxes. There is also one new and rather large dark wooden bookshelf right as you walk into the store. It’s about ten feet long and taller than I am. I gaze around at the scene, so weirdly confused it makes my head hurt. “So we’re selling books now.” It’s a statement and a question and confusion all wrapped up in one.
“Yep!” Mom claps her hands together, then she takes a pair of scissors to the first box on the stack. “Only the bestselling books, of course. I’ve ordered five copies of the top twenty New York Times Bestselling books.”
I try really hard not to slam my head against the wall in frustration as Mom starts opening the boxes. “You know bookstores are a dying business, right?”
Mom rolls her eyes. “That’s why we’re selling only bestseller books. They’ve already proven that people like them, so we’ll be offering books people actually want. Plus, we’re not a bookstore. We’re a gift store that also has books.”
“But people buy books they want from actual bookstores,” I say, taking the handful of new hardbacks she gives me. “Or, more accurately, they buy them on Amazon.”
Which is why bookstores are going of business, I want to say. But Mom has that look on her face that tells me she won’t listen to anything I have to say right now. She’s the parent and she knows best. At least, that’s what she thinks.
“Natalie, this is a good idea,” she says as we work on filling up the new bookshelf with the new merchandise. “We’re a variety gift store and we sell many different items. These books are going to sell and we’ll become everyone’s favorite place to buy the next big book from. You’ll see.”
“Okay,” I say, deciding that I’d rather see her in this unusual good mood than burst her bubble by telling her how stupid this is. “I’ll start putting them in inventory.”
After the book-packed events of the morning, things settle down at the store. Mom hauls all the empty boxes out to the Dumpster, and I take some photos of our new bookshelf to post onto our social media sites. The books do look pretty cool on the shelf, and they have that delightful new book smell, and there’s even some Young Adult books I’ve been wanting to read. But I can’t help thinking this is a dumb idea.
By lunch time, Mom suggests that I should go out to the boardwalk and pass out the fliers she’s made up for the store. They advertise our new book selection, and although I hate passing out fliers on the beach, I wouldn’t mind getting some sun.
