What annoyed Gail most was the fact that she wasn't actually annoyed at all.
Sure, she was still sort of pissed off at the idea of spending her entire summer break in what was probably the most obscure and unknown town in the whole of Canada. But even that was barely even a problem any more — the quaint, unusual atmosphere of the place meant that it'd been slowly growing on her ever since she'd arrived. Like a weird tumor or something.
No, the only thing actually bothering Gail was that she'd had no say in the matter. One minute she'd been making loose plans with her friends, the summer break rapidly approaching, and the next minute Elaine Peck had her sat down at the kitchen table, her infamous 'do not fuck with me' expression plastered on her face as she explained that her and Bill would be 'seeing old friends' and 'making important connections' over in Europe for the summer.
Gail had found it almost impossible to hold back a scoff. Honestly, how did her mother manage to take herself so seriously?
"It only makes sense that you stay with your aunt Carol while we're away, dear," Elaine had said, the term of endearment doing nothing to soften her words. "I'm not the type of mother that leaves her seventeen year old daughter alone for the summer, as I am sure you're aware."
"I suppose Steve gets to stay here alone," Gail had murmured in response, not bothering to properly argue back. She'd learnt over the years that she didn't stand a chance.
"Don't be like that, Gail," Elaine had admonished. "Steven is older than you. And more responsible. Besides, it'll be good for you to spend some time over there. Your aunt Carol's lifestyle is... different, and I think staying with her will be the perfect opportunity to show you what happens when you don't study hard enough."
Gail hadn't really understood at first — her mother spent most of her time pretending Carol Peck didn't exist, all for the sake of keeping up appearances, of course — so why was she being dumped with her? But after a few more questions, she'd soon gathered that it was because none of the other Pecks wanted to be responsible for her for such a long period of time. She didn't blame them.
And so here Gail was, two weeks later, half the contents of her suitcase already packed into the wardrobe of Carol's spare bedroom and the other half splayed across the floor.
"Dinner's ready," Carol called from downstairs. "You have finished unpacking, haven't you?"
"Um," Gail looked at the mess in front of her and frowned. "Yeah, I... nearly done," she shouted back.
She quickly scooped up the rest of her clothes from the floor and hobbled over to her bed, dumping them under the covers. The clothes poked and jutted out from the duvet, forming a weird, lumpy-looking shape. Sort of like a dead body. She was almost impressed with her improvisation, though; tidiness was hardly something that came naturally to her.
"Shit. That'll have to do for now," Gail muttered to herself quietly.
She went downstairs to find Carol already dishing up the food.
"I don't even want to know how much you've actually managed to unpack, do I?" Carol asked, looking up at Gail with a hesitant smile. "I'd almost forgotten how spectacularly disorganized teenagers are."
"I'll finish the rest tonight," Gail assured, but her aunt just waved her off cheerfully.
"Don't worry about it. There's no rush."
All Gail could do was smile in response, taking a seat at the dinner table as her aunt brought their food over.
Honestly, Carol was barely even a Peck. She didn't have their trademark tough exterior, nor was she able to pull off the cold, judgmental stare. In fact the only clue that they were related to each other came from her short strawberry blonde hair, oh so similar to Elaine's.
But seriously, she didn't even have an interest in police work. As far as Gail knew, she collected books in her spare time, which wasn't the least Peck-like hobby she could think of, but it was certainly high up there.
Gail liked her, which was saying something; as a general rule, she didn't like anyone. But no, Carol's welcoming presence was impossible not to warm to. She liked the inviting, homey feel of her house, and the bold, vibrant colours that her aunt wore that matched her quirky personality.
The one thing Gail didn't like about staying with Carol, however, was her cat. It wasn't that Gail had anything against cats, per se, but this one had an irritating habit of pestering and prodding her (with its head) and meowing until she gave it attention. And then when she did, it would hiss and scratch her.
At present, the cat was curled up by her feet under the table and Gail was trying to resist the temptation to kick it. Lightly, of course.
Gerald, its name was. Gerald. Who the hell called their cat Gerald? Carol Peck, apparently.
"Now, I hope you don't mind," Carol began, swallowing a forkful of pasta, "but I've had a word with the owner of my local bookshop about you doing some work there over the summer, just part time of course, and the lady says she's more than happy to have you."
"Okay," Gail said slowly. She was surprised to find she didn't actually mind the thought of working over the summer. It's not like she had a clue what she'd be doing here anyway; she liked the town, sure, but Carol would be out all day and it was hardly bustling with life. Coincidentally, that happened to be the reason Gail liked the place so much. The distinct lack of people was more than appealing.
"God, I hope I wasn't too presumptuous for asking in advance," Carol said, mistaking Gail's silence as reluctance.
"No, no," Gail said quickly, fidgeting with fork, "It'll be good. Thank you."
Carol smiled. "We can always make up an excuse for you if it's that terrible, can't we? But Ms Stewart is a lovely woman, and she has a girl your age that helps out there occasionally." She paused and then said, "She's probably the only person under fifty that you're going to find here, so you better make the most of it."
Gail hid her frown by shoveling a huge forkful of pasta into her mouth. There was something about being around girls her age that brought out her bitchy side. "Sounds good," she managed to say, despite her sudden apprehension.
But it wasn't good.
There was absolutely nothing good about having to wake up at seven a.m the next morning, and there was definitely nothing good about opening her eyes to find that stupid cat lying across her neck, fast asleep.
Gail sighed loudly. How was it fair that Gerald the Fucking Cat could sleep in for as long as he pleased, whilst she slaved away at work? She flopped out of bed, the cat rolling off of her as she got up, but barely even opening its eyes.
Once dressed, she went downstairs to find Carol potting around in the kitchen. Today she was sporting a garishly bright rainbow-colored knitted jumper.
"Morning, darling," Carol greeted her, her tone as cheerful as usual. She pointed over to the steaming mug of coffee on the table. "That's for you."
"Oh thank god," Gail said, immediately picking up the coffee and sipping it appreciatively. Then she remembered her manners. "Oh, um, thank you," she said, giving her aunt a sheepish smile.
Carol smiled. "Not a problem, Gail."
She had another sip. "You know, this is really good coffee." She narrowed her eyes. "Like, really good."
"No need to sound so suspicious," replied her aunt, laughing. "Not every one is as inept in the kitchen as your mother."
The walk to the bookshop was a peaceful one. It was a mild morning, with nothing more than a pleasant, gentle breeze in their way as they strolled through the town. There were a few people milling about, smiling as they passed each other, but other than that it was enjoyably quiet.
They hadn't been walking for more than five minutes when Carol stopped outside a small, vintage looking place.
"Here we are," she said. She pointed to the sign above the bookshop which read 'A Novel Idea.' "Certainly got a ring to it, hasn't it?" she joked.
Gail frowned. "It looks..."
"Beautiful?" Carol supplied.
"No, I was going to say nerdy."
In all honesty, though, the bookshop did look nice. The outside was painted white, and although it didn't particularly stand out from any of the other old, quaint buildings and shops nearby, the window display was home to an inviting array of books which made it just a little bit more appealing than the others.
"Better go in before we make you late," her aunt said.
Gail reluctantly followed Carol into the bookshop, but her reluctance morphed into awe as soon as she stepped inside.
She'd never seen anything like it. All around her innumerable piles of books were stacked and stacked and stacked; it was almost as if the shop held no empty space. Mountains more books crept up the walls, precariously placed one on top of the other, looking as if they could topple over at any moment.
There was a strange, warm silence that lingered between the shelves, and she found it weirdly inviting.
She carried on looking around in awe until a voice broke her out of her reverie.
"So lovely to finally meet you, Gail," a tall woman with dark brown hair said, smiling broadly and extending her hand. Gail could only assume that this was Ms Stewart.
"You too," Gail responded politely. She shook her hand.
And so it went from there.
The small talk ended in a wave goodbye from her aunt, and before she knew it she was wearing an 'A Novel Idea' apron, which was only slightly embarrassing. Ms Stewart — "Please, just call me Sarah" — spent the first twenty minutes talking her through the basics: how to use the cash register, her working hours, where things were kept.
"I think I've covered just about everything," Ms Stewart said, once Gail had successfully managed to use the cash register. "Now, the mornings shifts are usually quiet, so how about you work at the till while I do some work out in the back? I'm sure that'll help you settle in."
Gail nodded awkwardly, trying not to throw any more dirty looks towards the offending cash register.
"Great. And if you get bored, you should be able to find a few books scattered around the shelves behind you. Those ones aren't actually on sale." She shook her head, wistful. "My daughter's always reading at least three at a time, so I'm sure you'll be able to find something you like."
And with that she disappeared behind the endless mounds of books into a small room at the back of the bookshop.
Silence followed. And Gail loved it.
For the first half an hour, there weren't any visitors. She was more than relieved — and anyway, who on earth went shopping for books at eight thirty in the morning? Apart from... nerds and old people.
Instead she sat peacefully at the counter, her eyes drifting around the shop. It was as if every time she looked up, she spotted something different. Never had Gail experienced a building with such presence before. The bookshop was bursting with a life of its own.
Directly in front of her, just above the entrance to the shop, was a wooden balcony. So far it was proving to be her favourite feature. The railings of the balcony were lined with sparking fairly lights, faintly illuminating everything they touched. A collection of book covers were threaded together with string, and hanged from the railings too.
But it was the bookshelf on the balcony itself that really caught her attention; the books were arranged in colour order, blue spines dissolving into greens, yellows, reds — all the way across the spectrum, forming a whimsical rainbow.
She carried on surveying the room until someone entered the shop.
Gail's head shot down abruptly, a surge of awkwardness immediately overcoming her. She usually dealt with social encounters using snark and sarcasm, but that hardly appropriate while she was working for someone else. The thought left her feeling naked.
She prayed for it to be an old person. Old people were good, easy. They only talked about knitting and baking as far as she was aware.
But there was no such luck today. She looked up from the desk to find a brunette girl looking at her hesitantly.
Gail frowned. "You're not an old person," she blurted out.
The girl tilted her head. "Not that I'm aware, no," she said slowly, adjusting her glasses.
A tense silence followed until Gail snapped, "Are you going to just stand there, or are you actually going to buy a book?"
She quirked an eyebrow. "Do you talk to all your customers like this?"
"No. Only to nerds like you."
At this the girl actually chuckled. "And what makes you think I'm a nerd?" she asked, stepping forward until she was standing across from Gail at the counter.
"Your backpack, your glasses, your lunchbox," Gail listed, "and the fact that you're in a bookshop before 10 a.m."
"Ah, you know that this isn't actually my lunchbox, right?"
"If you say so."
"I do."
"Good for you."
The girl sighed, exasperated. "Why would I own a Spongebob Squarepants lunchbox?"
Gail shrugged.
"Fine, so I'm a nerd," the girl conceded, playing along. "And you are...?"
"Gail."
"Nice to meet you, Gail. I'm Holly." Holly smiled, extending out her hand with mock courtesy. Gail just stared at her hand, eyes narrowed, until Holly got the message. "You're going to regret that."
"I'm sure I will," Gail retorted sarcastically.
It was in that moment that Ms Stewart came back from the backroom of the bookshop.
"Ah," she said to Gail, "I see you've met my daughter."
"Seems like it."
"You're being nice to her, I hope, Holly?"
"Of course," Holly replied. "I was just asking her about her favourite book, actually."
Gail looked at Holly, confused, but Ms Stewart seemed oblivious to the look her daughter was being thrown. "And what is it, Gail?"
She was about to open her mouth, but Holly cut in.
"Twilight," was her grim response. "Gail's favourite book is Twilight."
Ms Stewart's expression was one of both anguish and despair. "Oh."
Gail was actually going to kill Holly the moment her mum left them alone, she quickly decided. For the time being, though, she just shrugged in response to Ms Stewart's silence.
"She's Team Edward," Holly supplied, looking directly at Gail with a glint in her eyes.
"That's..." Ms Stewart trailed off again. "Each to their own, I suppose," she settled for. Gail could feel her cheeks flush in embarrassment. "Well, seeing as you two have already been introduced, why don't you show her around the shop properly, Holly? While it's still quiet."
"Sure," Holly said.
"Perhaps you could introduce her to some books other than Twilight," she suggested. Holly nodded and Gail grimaced. "Well, I'll leave you two girls to it. See you both later."
And with that, she went back to work in the store room at the back of the bookshop.
Gail glared at her, barely able to hide her disgust. "Twilight, Holly? Really? Of all the books in the world, you tell your mother, owner of a bookshop, that I enjoy reading about vampires that glitter in the sun?"
Holly smirked, unapologetic. "I did warn you that you'd regret not shaking my hand."
