“Your mother’s a mystery, isn’t she?” asked Charlie.
“Not really,” said Pearl. As far as Pearl was concerned, her mother was an open book.
“All women are mysteries.”
“Only men think that,” said Pearl. “Largely because they’re not paying attention.”
Charlie was at her mother’s desk, doing something at her computer. Apparently, according to Stella, he was managing the accounting now. He’d been an increasingly large part of their lives for the last couple of months. Certainly, he was around more and for longer than anyone else had been. He was often in the kitchen now when Pearl came down before school, making breakfast. Last week, he’d proofread her English essay and they’d spent a long time talking about it. Pearl liked Charlie, but she wasn’t going to let herself get attached. She knew Stella too well. She’d tire of him eventually.
“The only thing more mysterious than women are teenage girls.”
She was aware of his eyes. He was always watching her. And she was always watching him. Trying to figure him out. He was polite, intelligent. He was always on time. Good with the customers. Good, according to Stella, with the books. He was well-read. He hand-sold, getting to know patrons and recommending books they might like. He’s a throwback, said Stella. A real bookseller, in an industry that had stopped caring about story and only cared about numbers.
But. But. But.
There was something else. Pearl was a watcher. She hid in the stacks, observing. Still, she couldn’t figure him out. Handsome, in a geeky way. Too skinny. Always impeccable—pressed button-down shirts, crisp khakis, sensible shoes. His socks always matched his pants.
“Can you stock some books this afternoon?” he asked. “We just got a big shipment, the new Karin Slaughter.”
He nodded toward some boxes stacked by the door.
“Sure,” said Pearl.
“Not too much homework?”
“No,” she said. “I’m good. Where’s Mom?”
Charlie shrugged. “Like I said. Mysterious.”
“Her purse is here,” said Pearl. She took a piece of Black Jack gum from its wrapper and stuffed it in her mouth.
Charlie frowned, considering.
“I’m pretty sure she had her wallet and her phone. Her keys,” he said finally.
The bell rang outside, and they watched a group of kids enter the store from the monitor that hung on the wall. Charlie got up to greet them, giving her a smile as he left the room.
Their voices carried back to Pearl, laughter bubbling. They’d put out some fliers at her school, and now kids were coming to study in the afternoons. It had been Charlie’s idea, one of many good ones.
Pearl grabbed the box cutter, carefully slicing open the first carton. She loved unpacking—the smell of new paper, the shiny or matte jackets, the raised letters beneath her fingertips, the weight of a real book in her hands, the whisper of paper. She loved hardcovers, and floppy trade paperbacks, the blocky mass markets—each with their own place in the store.
The store outside had grown quiet, the kids who came to study were actually studying. She recognized one of the girls, but not the other two. Pearl’s school was a sprawling concrete monster that looked like a prison. She didn’t know everyone. She didn’t know anyone really. She might sit with the other nerds at lunch; they were nice enough to her. But she mainly kept to herself, her nose in a book.
A few more kids trickled in, headed for the donuts, then grabbed a space on one of the couches. They, too, settled in, took out notebooks and laptops. This was the most people she had seen here on a weekday afternoon. If it wasn’t for online sales, and the money that came from renting out the space for parties, meetings, book groups, Stella’s Pages would have gone out of business long ago. Charlie was good for the store. Good, it seemed, for Stella. And Pearl didn’t mind him either.
She wouldn’t let herself get attached.
The afternoon wound on. Pearl stocked the books on the front table reserved for big bestsellers. Then, she walked around with the feather duster—from literature to science fiction, from young adult to picture books. After she was done, she flopped into the overstuffed chair by the storefront window and worked on her homework.
Finally, it was growing dark and time to close up. Stella had not returned.
“I guess we’ll just meet her at home,” said Charlie, frowning at his phone. She’d watched him text a couple of times, then stare at his screen. She felt bad for him; this was probably the beginning. Stella was probably getting tired of him. Pearl knew the signs.
“We’ll carry in dinner,” he said.
They cashed out, locked up. Pearl took Stella’s tote along with her own bags and rode home in Charlie’s GTO. He was quiet, thoughtful. They stopped for burgers.
The lights were on upstairs as they pulled into the driveway. The smell of hamburgers and fries filled the interior of the car. Pearl saw a shadow in the window. Then her mother’s silhouette joined the form in an embrace. A new boyfriend, Pearl guessed.
Had Charlie seen it, too?
“You know,” he said, pushing up his glasses. He kept his eyes straight ahead. “Maybe just have your mom call me. If she wants.”
Pearl wasn’t sure what to say.
“Take the burgers,” he said quietly. “Make sure you both eat.”
He was pale in the streetlight, a muscle clenching in his jaw.
“I’m sorry,” said Pearl, exiting with her bags, her mom’s, the food. She took a hamburger from the sack and handed it to Charlie. When he reached for it, their eyes locked and he smiled; she smiled back. It was the closest she had ever come to feeling something for someone. Which she knew, distantly, was weird. But you can only be who you are.
She wanted to say something else, but he just waved her inside.
In the foyer, she heard music, her mother’s laughter wafting down the hall. Then, the rumble of a man’s voice. She looked back before shutting the front door. Charlie still idled in his car in front of the house. What was he doing? Just making sure she got inside safely.
She ate at the kitchen table alone, reading. The music from her mother’s room grew louder. After dinner, she cleaned up—loading the dirty breakfast dishes in the dishwasher, wiping down the counter. More laughter. An odd thudding.
She went up to her room, to finish her homework where it was quieter. Then the house grew silent again.
She was glad she hadn’t let herself get attached to Charlie.
But when she looked out her bedroom window just before turning out her lights to sleep, his car was still there.
TEN
Selena
Stephen and Oliver argued through dinner, fought as they all watched a movie, finally quieted down for a story, and took some parting shots at each other while they lay in their beds, Selena lying on the floor between them.
“Boys, be nice to each other,” she whispered in the night-light-dim room. On the ceiling, stars glowed green. She remembered sticking them up there with Graham. It took forever, both of them with aching arms and backs the next day. “Love each other.”
“Ew,” said Oliver.
“Shut up,” said Stephen.
“I’m one second from leaving this room,” warned Selena. They both quieted down at that, Oliver with a huff, turning his back. She felt the heat of Stephen’s stare. When he was smaller, he would watch her until his eyes closed finally for sleep.