“No, no, she was stolen by faeries! Maybe Santa’s got her working away in his toyshop.” Josie lets out a cackle and Tiffany swats her arm.
My face flushes and tears prick the corners of my eyes. I know the town talks. How could I not? But to hear it so plainly…
I want to storm out and scream that I’ve heard everything they’d said. That they have no idea what they’re talking about. That Papa isn’t mad. That with every trip he takes, every loan he gets to fund an excursion, he’s getting closer to what he needs.
But they’re not wrong about everything.
Lucas did save my life.
Head down, I slink to the front counter. When I hear them shuffling back, I force a smile on my face and wave them out.
A pang of guilt sits heavy in my stomach that I didn’t stand up for myself. For Papa. But what’s the point?
Nothing will change the fact I’m always going to be different.
Maybe they’re right about him.
Maybe they’re right about me.
Theskyhasdarkenedto a deep gray, and the streetlights turn on as I shrug on my coat and prepare to lock up.
Richard came an hour ago to do the monthly inventory. Thankfully, this is one of the only tasks he doesn’t trust me with. His dirty plaid jacket hangs over the cardboard boxes as he opens the latest shipments.
“Okay, I’m heading out now,” I call. “See you later, Richard.”
He grunts as a response, but as I place my hand on the door, his deep voice bellows, “What the fuck are these?”
He holds up a couple of the latest romance paperbacks I ordered. With a delighted squeal, I snatch one from him. “They finally came! Our collection has been stale, so I ordered some things to freshen it up. This one is a romance about a magical university, and this is a contemporary about a girl who pretends to be her brother to play hockey—”
“Romances?” Richard spits. “Rosalina, how many times have I told you? These don’t sell.” He slaps his forehead with a palm. “How much budget did you waste on this drivel?”
I tug the book against my chest. “It’s not drivel…”
Richard digs through the box like an angry mole. “Is this whole damn order romance? What kind of idiot are you?” He stares straight at me, his eyes squinty and dark. “They’re going back.”
“But… If you’d let me put them on display—”
“Listen, O’Connell,” my boss snarls. “You’d think for living here your whole damned life, you’d know the people in this town don’t like change. They want the authors they know. And they especially don’t want mindless, unrealistic garbage like this. The only person in this town foolish enough to eat this shit up is you.”
You can’t talk to me like that. You wouldn’t know literature if it smashed you in the head. You’re mean and angry and look like a mole. I quit.These things and more rush through my head, but my throat is so dry, and my heart beats too fast. Then another voice joins the fray:You need this job. Papa needs the money. You’re not capable of anything else.
Instinctively, I tug down the left sleeve of my sweater. “I-I’ll make sure to send the books back. First thing tomorrow.”
Richard sighs and rubs the bridge of his nose. “You know, I was friends with George back in the day.”
George. My father.
“I want to keep you employed for his sake. Don’t make that so hard, okay?”
I nod, taking a deep inhale to suck back my tears. “Okay.” Somewhere, I find an ounce of courage and whisper, “Before we send them back, can I buy two?”
Richard waves an idle hand. “Fine. Grab what you want. I’ll take it out of your paycheck.”
Carefully, I choose two books and tuck them into my purse. “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight, Rosalina,” he says somberly. As if dealing with me is the worst part of his day. And it probably is.
That’s what Lucas used to say.