by Kasie West
“There’s not very many people in the library, Mom.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Plus, it’s only five minutes away,” I said.
“By car.”
“Yes, by car.”
“I’d rather walk.”
“I know. But that’s a long walk.” One I knew she couldn’t make. “It’s fine, Mom. It’s just been a while since you pushed yourself a little.” I usually didn’t say things like this to my mom. I usually let her off the hook easier. I didn’t want to upset her or make her more anxious about life. But maybe clinging to Cooper on the back of that quad the day before made me realize that pushing yourself to do hard things was actually pretty liberating. There was a sense of accomplishment about it, after the fact.
She sighed. “I’ll call the library and see if they need me there for you to get a card.”
Blasted phones, I thought, always ruining my best-laid plans with their usefulness.
I pulled out my useful phone and sent Cooper a text: I’m going to the library to pick out a classic. You want to come?
Can’t. Family BBQ at my dad’s work. Call me with an emergency in about an hour.
What kind of emergency?
The best friend kind. I don’t know. You’ll think of something.
I’m sure your parents will love me even more for that. I’m not faking an emergency. I’ll be reading Crime and Punishment. I had looked up a list of classics, and that one sounded the most interesting to me.
What crime are you planning to commit?
That’s the title of a book.
Cool. Get me that one too. It sounds awesome.
We can’t read the same classic. We need to read different ones and then tell each other about them. It will be double the depth.
Okay. I call dibs on Crime and Punishment.
You are a brat.
This is true. I have to go now.
Okay. Have fun.
He added: Call me in one hour.
No.
I put my phone in my pocket and looked up just in time to see my mom come back into the kitchen.
“Good news,” she said. “You can sign for your own library card.”
“Oh. Okay.”
“Don’t look so disappointed, hon. I’ll walk to the park with you after dinner tomorrow. How about that?”
“Promise?”
She hesitated a moment, then nodded resolutely. “Yes.”
“I’m holding you to that.”
“I heard it too,” Grandpa said from the other room.
“I’m being ganged up on now?” she asked.
“Not ganged up on, Mom. Supported. You have lots of support.”
She smiled and hugged me, then handed me a bottle of antibacterial hand gel.
“What is this?”
“Do you know how many people touch those books?”
I handed her back the gel. “You should read some stories on this stuff. It’s creating superbugs.”
“Really?”
I shouldn’t have said that. Now she’d spend the next two days on the computer reading about superbugs. I snatched the bottle back. “You’re right. I’ll bring this.” I lifted the car keys from a hook by the door and left before she decided I couldn’t leave the house after all.
NINE
There were lots of books considered classics. A whole section of them. Some I’d never even heard of before, like Ulysses or Middlemarch. Some I had, like The Scarlet Letter and The Sun Also Rises. A lot of them were on the list I had looked up, but a lot of them weren’t.
I’d already found Crime and Punishment and was reaching for Frankenstein, thinking it reminded me of the mash-up of qualities that had inspired my list, when someone else reached for it at the same time. “Sorry,” we both said, then laughed.
The girl smiled and gestured for me to take it.
I recognized her immediately. She had curly red hair and bright-green eyes. “Oh, you’re the . . .”
“Zit commercial girl?” she finished for me when I stopped myself in time.
“Yes.”
She gestured to her beautifully clear skin. “Keeps them gone for weeks.”
“Do you really use that zit cream?”
“No.”
I smiled. “You go to my school too, right?”
“Pacific High? Yes.”
“I’m Abby, by the way.”
“Oh, sorry. I’m Lacey.” She nodded toward the book I’d reached for. “Are you getting a jump start on the honors English summer reading list? Do you have Engle?”
“No, I’m not taking honors English. I’m just looking for an interesting classic to read.”
“Why?”
“For fun, I guess.” I didn’t want to explain the heart list to her. “You can take that one. I’ll find a different one.”
“What kind of stories do you like to read? Maybe I can help you pick one.”
“Have you read a lot of classics?” I asked.
“I’ve done a lot of theater, so I’ve read almost all of Shakespeare. Other than that, not really. I’m not sure why I offered like I was some expert.”
“If you say anything with enough confidence, it’s true, right?”
“I can get behind that.” She pulled a book down. “There’s always the summaries on the backs. Those are sort of helpful.” She began reading the back of the book she held in an English accent.
“Is the writer of that one British?” I asked.
“I just assume all the writers of classic literature are British.” She shrugged. “But more importantly, I do a killer British accent.”
“You really do.”
“Wow, that sounded vain. I promise I’m not vain.” She bit her lip. “Is that the kind of promise vain people make?”
I let out a single laugh and held out my hand for the book. “I have to get that book now.”
She handed it to me.
“A Tale of Two Cities, by Dickens,” I read off the cover.
“Aha!” She patted the book. “See. It was a safe bet.”
My phone buzzed in my pocket. Saaaavvvveeee me! It was a text from Cooper.
I tucked the two books I now had (one for me, one for Cooper) under my arm and typed back. Just tell your parents you want to leave their party.
Can’t. They’ll be disappointed. You’ve seen their disappointed faces.
You need to go into the army. I hear it makes you a man.
Lacey slid Frankenstein off the shelf and waved at me with it. “It was nice to meet you. I hope you enjoy A Tale of Two Cities.”
“Thanks.” I pointed to her book. “You too.”
She walked away, and I dialed Cooper’s number. He answered. “Hello.”
“I ran out of gas.”
“Abby, why would you do a thing like that? Don’t you pay attention to your gas gauge? It’s that little one right above the steering wheel.”
“Watch it or I’ll hang up right now.”
He laughed. “Of course I’ll come save you, even though I’m right in the middle of my dad’s really cool work party. You should see it, they have live singers and everything.”
“Sounds amazing.”
“What’s this group called again, Dad?”
A deep voice said something I couldn’t understand.
“The Patriotic Quartet. There’s four of them and they walk around the party only singing patriotic songs.”
“I would’ve never guessed that by their name,” I said, heading for the checkout. A few people shot me looks on my way, and I guessed I was being too loud for the library.
“I know.”
“And it’s not even the Fourth of July,” I said, quieter this time.
“Barely two weeks. Imagine how booked they are for that day.”
“Would you rather have to listen to only quartets for the rest of your life or screeching cats?”
“That’s a hard one. But quartets, I think. Unless they can only sing patriotic songs. Then the cats.”
; “I’m getting our books now. Are you going to come rescue me and my empty gas tank or not?”
“Abby ran out of gas,” Cooper’s muffled voice said. He was obviously relaying the message to his dad. “I have her on the phone and can ask her exactly where she is. Otherwise we have the Find Your Friend app on each other’s phones.”
His dad must’ve asked what that was, because he said, “It’s like a GPS thing that lets me track her phone. What? Yes, it’s safe. You don’t let strangers track you, just your friends.” Back to me he said, “My dad doesn’t know what Find Your Friend is.”
“I figured.”
“I’ll be right there.”
“My hero,” I said dryly.
“See you in a bit.”
“I’ll be back at my house. No need to use the app.”
“Copy.”
I hung up and handed my books to the librarian.
“These are due in two weeks,” she said with a smile.
“Thanks.”
She used a wand to scan the barcode on the covers. “These are character-building books. They’ll make you think.”
“That’s what I’m hoping for.”
I hoped they built character fast, because it felt like the clock was ticking.
TEN
The next day Cooper and I sat in my room reading our books.
“Was work any better today?” Cooper was lying on the floor. He’d rested Crime and Punishment on his chest and had his hands grasped behind his head. He looked so at ease in my room that it seemed like he should be a permanent fixture there.
From up on my bed, I responded, “Nope. Ticket counter again. Tina got the floor. Tina doesn’t even like the floor.”
“Stupid Tina.”
“I know!” I sighed and turned the page of my book.
Cooper was silent for several long moments, then asked, “Would you rather have to read only that book for the rest of your life or only be able to watch one movie for the rest of your life?”
“That’s hard. I love movies, but I can’t imagine never being able to pick up another book either.”
“I know.”
“I don’t think I can give up movies. I’m visual,” I said.
“I don’t think I can either.” He held up his book. “You want to switch?”
“Switch? I’m on chapter six.” We’d started reading the day before, after he’d “rescued” me. And I was actually enjoying Charles Dickens. The language was hard to get into at first, but I felt like I was starting to understand. It was an interesting story that brought to life some of the things we’d studied in world history about the French Revolution.
“Let’s summarize what we’ve read so far and then switch for the next hour. Double the depth, right?”
I laughed. “Okay.” I Frisbeed the book to him. “Oh. I forgot to tell you I ran into Lacey Barnes at the library yesterday.”
“Zit cream girl?”
“Yes.”
“I’ve never talked to her before. Does she really use that zit cream? Does it help?” He ran his hand over the side of his face, where he must’ve had a blemish. I couldn’t see one. Cooper had nice skin but, like me, broke out on occasion.
“She doesn’t use it. She has perfect skin.”
“Figures,” he said. “What’s she like?”
“Really nice, actually. And not vain at all.”
“What does that mean?”
“You don’t know what vain means?”
“I know what vain means, but why did you bring it up?”
“Nothing. Inside joke.”
“You already have an inside joke with Lacey Barnes?”
I almost said I had been kidding but then realized “Yes, I do.”
“There you go oozing your charm again, Abby.”
I threw a pillow at him and he laughed, then tossed me his book. It landed next to me on the bed. He picked up the book I’d thrown him and reclined back.
“Wait. Summary.” We each summarized what we had read so far and then began reading from the books we now held. I wasn’t sure how much time had passed when my mom knocked on the frame of my open door.
“Have the classics swallowed you both whole or would you like to eat dinner?”
Cooper set his book aside and immediately stood. “Mrs. Turner, if you are offering food, I will eat it. It’s the least I can do.”
She beamed at him.
I joined Cooper and we followed my mom down the hall. “I can see why you wanted to switch books, by the way. Crime and Punishment is disturbing.”
“I know. I sensed nightmares. I’m not as tough as you,” he said.
“Didn’t you just call me a wimp the other day?”
“A wimp about some things. Not others.”
“Wow. Thanks.”
He chuckled. “No problem.”
Mom had made chicken and rice, and four plates sat on the table, where my grandpa waited.
“Cooper,” Grandpa said. “Again.”
Cooper smiled. “You sick of me, Grandpa Dave?”
“Always,” Grandpa said.
Mom swatted the air near Grandpa. “He’s kidding.”
“He’s not,” I whispered at the same time my grandpa mouthed, I’m not.
Cooper let out a single laugh. “It’s kind of creepy how you two are the same person,” he said, looking between Grandpa and me.
“Except he’s a hundred years older.”
“How’s the list coming?” Mom asked, loading up a plate and handing it to me.
“Cooper made me ride on a quad in the dunes. I’m not sure how much depth that gave me, but it was an experience.”
I was about to talk about how terrifying it was but pressed my lips together. Mom had stopped scooping rice midscoop, frozen.
I changed my tone. “It was fun. Cooper is a professional, so it wasn’t really scary at all.”
Cooper laughed, taking the plate full of food in front of me and sliding it in front of him. “Right. You should’ve seen her.”
I grabbed hold of his knee under the table and dug my fingers around it.
He shot me a look but then noticed my mom. “She did great,” he said with hardly a pause. “We took it slow.”
Grandpa sighed as if he knew what we were doing.
Finally my mom snapped out of her daze. “That’s great, hon. That’s definitely a new experience. Next time, will you run risky activities by me first?”
“Yes. Sorry.”
“I kind of sprang it on her. She wasn’t sure what we were doing. Sorry, Mrs. Turner.”
Mom smiled at Cooper. “It’s okay. I know you’re careful.”
If she had seen how careful he was, she would never trust him with me again.
Grandpa retrieved the plate my mom was extending and then said, “Didn’t you promise Abby a walk to the park after dinner today, Susan?” This was his way to push my mom, because I certainly hadn’t, with our downplayed ride. I shot him a look but then smiled at Mom. Because it was true. She had promised. “We can all go,” Grandpa said.
Mom’s lips formed a tight line. She finished filling the last plate, then sat down. “Yes, I did promise. That sounds good.”
I wasn’t sure what it was about having Cooper with us that made my mom more relaxed. Maybe it was his general happy nature, or maybe she sensed that he feared nothing, so she didn’t need to either. Whatever it was, when he was there, our success rate at getting my mom out the door was almost as high as when my dad was around.
Grandpa and I walked arm in arm, trailing Mom and Cooper. Cooper was doing most of the talking, like I generally did when I walked with my mom. But she was looking up more, laughing more, not hesitating as much. I couldn’t hear what they were talking about, but I’d ask him later so I could pick up a few pointers.
“How was your quad ride really?” Grandpa asked me.
“Terrifying,” I said. “Too fast.”
“That’s what I thought.” He patted my arm. “And did it give you newfo
und depth?”
“It actually gave me an idea for one of my paintings.”
“That’s great. So does that mean you’re going to be racing on the dunes alongside Cooper next week?”
“Not on your life.”
“How are you going to retaliate?”
“You mean what fear am I going to make him face?”
“Yes.”
“No idea.”
We arrived at the park, and my mom sat on a bench. I chose a swing close by, Cooper taking the one right next to me. Grandpa stood behind me and gave me a push.
“You’re surprisingly strong for your age,” I said.
“I’m strong for any age.”
I pushed myself higher with a pump of my legs.
“Which classics did you end up picking?” Grandpa asked.
“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times,” I yelled out from the top of my swing.
“A Tale of Two Cities,” Grandpa said. “Good choice. About two vastly different realities existing at the same time. And what about you?” Grandpa turned to Cooper, who was twisting in his swing, the chain getting tighter and tighter.
“Crime and Punishment.”
“Ah. About a man getting away with murder . . . or does he? Our internal judge can be the worst punishment of all.”
“Don’t tell us the end, Grandpa!”
He laughed. “I haven’t.”
I glanced over at Mom as my swing slowed to a stop. She was intently taking in our surroundings. “What’s next on the list?” she asked when she noticed me looking.
Cooper lifted his feet and began spinning violent circles as the chain unraveled.
“Dizzy,” he said when he planted his feet again.
“What’s next on our list, Cooper?” I asked.
He groaned. “We’re trying out for a musical tomorrow.”
Grandpa raised his eyebrows and said, “Really?” as if he thought it was a horrible idea.
I grunted. “It’s a new experience!”
A buzzing noise sounded from Cooper’s pocket and he pulled out his phone. A smile played on his lips.
When he looked up I nodded at his phone, asking him who it was.
He just shook his head and started spinning the swing again.
As we headed back to the house, my mom arm in arm with Grandpa this time, I leaned over to Cooper and whispered, “Who were you texting with?”
