Chapter 2

My mother's bookshop is situated in the middle of nowhere. I was pretty certain it used to be a small house, since it is in our residential neighbourhood instead of in a shopping mall. It would have been more convenient if it was in a shopping mall, as it would attract the attention of people who were buying clothes, or groceries or stuff like that. But that didn't necessarily mean it would be better. It just didn't seem right to sell books and clothes in places that were right next to each other. Clothes are material things, but books are so much more. They hold so much meaning and knowledge. That is one of the few things my mom and I have in common, we both believe that books should be cherished.

"How was the first day of school?" my mother asked, as I opened the door to her bookstore.

"It was great," I replied, smiling widely.

"Oh, don't give me that look." She stopped working the cash register for a second so that she could give me a death glare. She had braided her hair loosely into two plaits. A couple of strands escaped and clung to her orange sweater. She'd always been a fan of bright colours; she said it set off the pink undertones of her skin and I agreed with her. Her cheeks looked flushed but in an attractive way, like she was blushing at a comment someone had made about her. She looked way too young to be someone with a sixteen-year-old daughter. Her hair was a raven black that made me jealous. She could wear any colour; anything went with black. She had angular cheekbones and was extremely tall, even without heels or platforms.

"What look?" I asked, dropping my backpack onto a nearby sofa.

"Like you want me to look at your expression instead of listening to your words."

"I was smiling," I defended myself.

"No, you were fake smiling," My mother handed the customer a packet. "Have a lovely day," she told the short, old lady who had just purchased a couple of comics that I assumed were for her grandkids.

"I still don't understand why I can't just be home-schooled," I complained.

"Honey, we talked about this," my mother sighed. "I can't do Math anymore."

"Who needs Math?" I asked, but didn't wait for her to reply. Instead, I headed off to the shelf right at the back of the store, hoping to find something to occupy me for the afternoon.

This shop was filled with old books that people didn't want anymore. They were all dog eared and tacky, but they still held a certain magic in them. They smelled like dust; not the bad kind of dust that gave you allergies, but the kind I liked to refer to as pixie dust. All these books waited patiently on the shelf for someone to pick them up. Their pages each held a variety of words that transported you to magical places, like Fair Verona or Casterbridge.

I picked Jane Eyre, which is and always will be one of my favourites. It was interesting to read about someone who actually wanted to go to school, and put myself in her shoes; even if those shoes were decades old and out of fashion in these modern days. My mother always joked that I was an old soul who belonged in a Victorian dress and elbow-length gloves.

"Hey."

I was roused out of my fantasy world by none other than Ryan Simpson. He had ditched his leather jacket in favour of a grey sweater, and his hair was only slightly tousled. What surprised me the most was that now he was wearing glasses. They were rectangular shaped with a black frame, and suited his face nicely. Ryan noticed me looking and immediately offered an explanation. "My contacts were getting scratchy."

"Okay," I said.

"I was hoping to find you here." He slipped both his hands into his pockets and looked down at me.

"I don't suppose you need help finding a copy of Jane Eyre to purchase," I teased, holding out the book in my hand to him.

"Actually, that's exactly why I'm here," he played along. "I was hoping that after I buy Jane Eyre, you'd take a walk with me." He grabbed the book out of my hand and walked off to the counter with it.

"Ryan?" My mother instantly recognised him. "I didn't see you come in."

"Hi, Mrs Foster," Ryan greeted, placing the book on the counter.

"Umm," I stuttered. "You don't actually have to buy that."

"Sagey," he joked. "I'm a great fan of," he leaned forward to gaze at the front cover of the book, "Charlotte Bronte,' he finished.

"Sagey?" My mom threw me a questioning look.

I shrugged, causing her to shift her attention back to Ryan.

"I haven't seen you in a while," she said as she scanned the barcode of his, well my, book.

"My mother's been busy lately," he replied. "She has no time for anything since she opened her own practice."

"Practice?" I enquired.

"GP," he clarified.

"Cool." I tried to hide my shiver, I hated all doctors and up until this moment I hadn't remembered Mrs. Simpson was a doctor.

***

"For a second there I didn't think your mother wasn't going to let me take you for a walk." Ryan said, amusement coating his voice.

"She wouldn't have if it was someone she didn't know," I replied.

"Helicopter parent?" he inquired.

I grimly nodded my head.

He exhaled deeply, before smiling at me. "She can't shield you forever."

The afternoon air was warm and lively. The sound of ongoing traffic sounded as if it mimicked the humming of the birds, and the slight breeze rustled the leaves in a very gentle manner. The sun was low in the sky and looked more pink than yellow. The clouds that surrounded the sun were its guardian angels, guiding it toward the sunset and then back up to the sunrise.

Summer in London was beautiful, and there was nothing that could change my mind about that; not even the drug smugglers that operated under everyone's noses. There was a boy my age that bumped into someone and I could have sworn I saw him dip his hand into the older man's coat. His eyes met mine briefly and they were the most erratic green I had ever seen. I should probably have called the police or something or at least told someone that I has seen a theft taking place. But there was something about the way he looked at me. It was as if he was daring me to try and stop him. I just couldn't expose him. I couldn't explain why, but there was something about him that made me want to walk up to him and put my hand in his.

He smirked as he moved past me, well aware that I had seen him commit a crime. He somehow knew I would keep this to myself.

"Are you ok?" Ryan asked me, as I continued to stare at the back of the boy's head, which was covered by a baggy black hoodie.

"Yeah," I looked back at Ryan. "I just got lost in my own head. I do that sometimes."

Ryan sighed. "Must be nice to be able to think about something long enough, to allow it to consume your every thought." The pink sunlight hit his face, giving him a cherubic appearance.

"What do you mean?"

"I have a problem with concentration," Ryan confessed, clenching his jaw and looking away from me. "I can't think about one thing for too long, or my head gets fried. Calum is ADHD as well, that's probably why we ended up being friends. Sometimes I feel like Derek doesn't fit in with us. He's so composed most of the time, while Calum and I are...special."

"I'm sorry,' I said, not sure what else to say.

"Don't be,' he shrugged. "Because today I thought about something long and hard."

"Really?"

"Yeah," he smiled. "Will you go out with me?"

"Like on a date?" I asked, even though I already knew the answer. I was unsure if my mom would agree. No, I was certain she wouldn't agree.

I could almost see the way that conversation would play out. It started and ended with her saying no. There would be no middle ground or negotiation. No meant no. That's the way things worked with her.

I started to shake my head, but Ryan continued. "Well, it doesn't have to be like a date date," he explained. "A friend of mine is throwing a party tomorrow night and I wanted you to go with me."

"I don't know," I said as I bit my lip, trying to make up my mind. It would be nice to go with Ryan, and pretend like I was a normal teenager who lied to her parents and dated boys without their knowledge. But on the other hand, I didn't want to do anything I might regret in future.

"It's ok, you don't have to." Ryan worked his jaw, clearly disappointed.

"No, I would like to go."

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