“I read books. I read them for school.”
“Yeah, but you don’t read for fun, so what are you doing at a bookstore?”
“Working,” Jake says.
“Hey, Shosh! That was an… interesting announcement.” I spin and find Daniel, my work husband, behind me. Daniel is Black and tall, and when he ran my orientation on my first day, we bonded over our bookish enthusiasm and belief in giving people zero shade for their favorite genre, even if that genre is Loch Ness monster romances. Yes, it’s a thing. No, don’t google it.
I’ve always had a little crush on Daniel because he’s a book nerd with biceps and I’m a heterosexual girl, but he’s been in a relationship since we met, and I can’t even begrudge him for it because his girlfriend, Lola, is both the coolest and the sweetest.
“New hire?” Daniel asks.
“Yup,” I pop out the word. “Daniel, Jake. Jake, Daniel.”
“What’s up, man?” Daniel asks. He leans forward and slaps hands with Jake.
“Not much,” Jake responds.
“Where’s your name tag?”
I bite back a snicker. Okay, I fail to bite back a snicker. Jake does not look amused. “Fine,” he says, then pulls the name tag out of his pocket and pins it on.
“Love that thing.” Daniel grins. “Peeta Pettigrew. Perfect Harry Potter–Hunger Games crossover.”
“Never read them,” Jake says.
“Ah,” Daniel replies. “So the announcement was true. That’s okay. I wasn’t a reader either until like ninth grade, and now I’m double-majoring in English and screenwriting.” He pauses. “With a minor in poetry.”
“Seriously?” Jake laughs.
Daniel nods. “Seriously.”
Guilt pinches my stomach. Of course it’s okay Jake isn’t a reader. I didn’t mean it’s not okay. Not everyone reads. I only meant it’s weird that he works here and doesn’t read, when there are like a million other stores in the mall.
Suddenly, Myra descends upon us. She zips forward in her chair with intimidating speed, and then stops short in front of me. “Shoshanna,” she says, voice firm. “Radio, now.”
“Okay, but—”
“Now.”
I swallow hard and hand over the radio. Myra presses the PA button. “Attention, Once Upon employees and shoppers, Shoshanna Greenberg has lost radio privileges. You’re welcome.”
“Now how is that fair?” I ask.
“Because I’m the store owner,” she replies. Then she glances over at Jake, who looks quite smug. “I apologize, Jake. I’ll have Daniel take over your training.”
“Thanks,” Jake says.
Daniel pats him on the back. “C’mon. Let’s start with the register.”
As he leads Jake off, I raise my voice. “Et tu, Daniel?”
He laughs. “Chill out, Shosh. See you later.”
Once they’re gone, I turn back to Myra. “I’m sorry,” I say. “That probably wasn’t the most professional announcement in the world.”
“Yeah, probably not.” She eyes me. “If you want PA privileges, you’ve got to prove you’re responsible enough for them.”
“I know.” Most employees earn PA privileges after three months. It took me six. For some totally unknown reason, Myra didn’t trust me with the power.
“And for the record,” she says, leaning back in her chair, “although I love a well-read employee as much as the next person, you don’t need to be a bibliophile to stock shelves and ring up customers. It’s the holiday season, and Jake came with a great reference.”
“But what if someone asks him for a book recommendation?”
“Well, then you can help them. Farshteyt?”
“Are you using Yiddish against me?”
“You’re the one who taught it to me, mamaleh.” Myra’s teasing eyes ease the tension in my shoulders. Yeah, she still loves me. “Go take your lunch and then come back and do what you do best.”
“Enchant people with my dazzling personality?”
Myra rolls her eyes. “Sell books.”
* * *
“Over there!” I shout, pointing to a table at the back corner of the food court. “Quick!”
“Take my tray.” Cheyenne shoves her tray into my spare hand, and as I balance both our lunches, she sprints through the packed food court, diving and diverting around shoppers with dozens of bags and preteens moving in packs. She’s almost there when a man with a double stroller barrels her way, but she spins, leaps, and slides into the chair, shoving both her arms over the table. “Goal!” she shouts.
“Success!” I cheer. With our trays, it takes much longer to thread through the crowd, but eventually I navigate the maze and join her at the table.
“I knew those rhythmic gymnastics lessons would come in handy one day,” Cheyenne says as she reaches for her food. Cheyenne has had many enthusiastic but short-lived interests including but not limited to rhythmic gymnastics, French horn, kickboxing, calligraphy, and competitive karaoke. I must go where my muse takes me, she declares. I just hope her muse never, ever returns her to fly-fishing because she convinced me to join her once, and gross, freaking gross.
Cheyenne takes a long sip of her milkshake and groans in satisfaction. “Ugh, sweet sustenance, how I needed you. I’m so tired, Shosh. I should’ve quit before the holiday season started.”
“Would your dad have allowed that?”
She pauses before saying, “Probably not.”
I love working at Once Upon, but I do also need the job, or I wouldn’t have money for gas or car insurance—or, okay, these really cute Harry Potter hairpins shaped like quills. Mama teaches art classes, and Mom is a bookkeeper for a marketing company. We’ve always had enough but not much more. Cheyenne’s parents are well-off for our area. She doesn’t need the money, but her dad wanted her to learn the value of a dollar and insisted she get a part-time job.
“At least you don’t work with your ex anymore.” I shrug. “That was awkward.”
“Yeah,” Cheyenne draws out the word while she plays with her straw. “But, the thing is, I kind of miss Anna.”
“What?” I lean forward. “This is new information. When did this happen?”
“Recently. I don’t know. I think it’s the holiday season.” Cheyenne sighs. “Plus, she was, like, a supergood kisser. Folding sweaters is somehow even more boring when you don’t have someone to kiss. Shocking, right?”
I laugh and steal one of her French fries. Cheyenne broke up with her girlfriend, Anna, two months ago. I’m not sure why. I’m not a seasoned dating expert. Technically, I’ve never dated before. And by technically, I mean I’ve never dated before. Anyway, a couple of weeks after they broke up, they got tired of making awkward eye contact over cardigan displays, so Anna left the Gap and got a job at Nordstrom, which is pretty cool because they never hire high school kids.
“Hey, y’all! What’s going on?”
I glance up and find Geraldine standing next to us, holding a tray of chips and guacamole. She’s wearing perfectly winged eyeliner and brick-red lipstick. Geraldine and I have been best friends since elementary school. We were the two nerds who always asked our teacher for extra reading assignments.