The jacket hangs gently over my desk chair, a frequent reminder of the first weekend of summer. It's been almost two weeks since Ponyboy walked me home and I find myself thinking of him less and less. How silly it was for me to think that someone like Ponyboy Curtis would think twice about his buddies' sister. I sigh, pulling my ponytail tighter before straightening my name tag, and checking myself one more time in the mirror. The bookstore uniform reminded me of the stuffy old woman who ran the local library. The tweed skirt and cream stockings they made us wear made me feel more like I was pushing 48 rather than 17.
"Nelly, I'm leavin' with or without ya!" Two-Bit calls from the base of the stairs. He wouldn't let me borrow his car today but promised to drop me off since it was far too hot to walk the distance to the bookstore e in the mid-afternoon. I roll my eyes to myself and then run my hands over the fabric of the skirt one last time, smoothing out any small wrinkles that I missed with the iron, and grab my matching coat before dashing down the stairs to catch up with Two-Bit.
He's already sitting the car and when he sees me walk out the front door, my brother makes it a point to lean against the horn as I hurry into the passenger side door.
"Knock it off, Two." I grumble, heaving the door shut with a grunt as he pulls away from the curb. "Why you in such a rush anyways? It's not like you gotta job to rush off to."
"Hey, now! It's not my fault they hired a petty thief to work security. 'Sides, you don't wanna be late, kiddo." He says, but I can see a small devious gleam behind his eyes.
"I ain't gonna be late." I say glancing at my watch. At the rate Two-Bit was driving, I would be almost twenty minutes early. "Jesus, Two-Bit," I gasp as he turns the corner on what feels like two wheels, "you wanna go back? You missed running over Mrs. Breyers and her cat!"
"Ha-ha," he says but he slows down. I roll my eyes at him and pull a compact out of my purse, using the mirror to double check that my hair is still in place from Two-Bit's wild ride.
"Why are you in such a rush?" I ask him again.
"I promised Donna, I'd pick her up and take her out to the county for a picnic," Two-Bit grumbles and I feel the corners of my mouth lift.
"It's like 300 degrees outside," I say, and he rolls his eyes at me.
"Don't I know it," he says, "but apparently, I promised her weeks ago and apparently I 'never live up to my promises.'"
"Well shoot," I laugh, "why'd it take her this long to figure that out?"
Two-Bit leans over and pinches the soft part of my arm. I jump in pain and surprise before rubbing the tender spot gently. "You're lucky you're drivin'," I tell him with a glare.
"Anyways," he says as he turns onto the main drag into downtown. "I gotta pick her up and I gotta pick up lunch because Mama refused to help me pack one."
"You mean mama refused to do it for you." I say as he pulls up in front of the bookstore. The front door is open, which is a sure sign that the inside of the building is hot. Wonderful.
"Tomato, potato" he says with a wave of his hand. "You gotta ride home? Mama's out somewhere with Aunt Louise."
"No, but I'm sure Lucy can drive me." I say noticing my coworker's car parked somewhat crookedly in front of the shop.
"If not, you gonna be okay walking home?" He asks and for a moment I can see a hopeful glint in his eyes.
"Oh no, Two-Bit," I tease, "you're not using me as an excuse to get out of this picnic. I don't need Donna mad at me too."
"Worth a shot," he says with a shrug. "Get out then," he says reaching over to pinch my arm again, "you're gonna make me late."
I roll my eyes and slam the door, giving him an unfriendly wave before marching inside the bookstore. I was right, it was almost unbearably warm in here. I take a moment to unbutton my sweater, taking careful care to ensure that my nametag is still visible and once again try to smooth out the small wrinkles out of the skirt, before moving between the shelves to take my place behind the Help Desk with Lucy.
Lucy lifts her fingers in greeting and then dramatically twists the phone's cord around her neck like she's pretending to choke herself. I smile and set my things down before sitting down at my stool. There's a small list of to-dos left over from Harv, the owner, and I settle into my place, reading over them carefully.
Penelope – in no order:
· Restock Agatha Christie (minor – apparently you are not the only person who reads these.)
· Wipe down children's section (lots of sneezes during the book read this morning)
· Cash drawer to safe (most important – do not let Dale do this. I am still unsure that he can count.)
· Where is the office key? (I had it last so don't ask me.)
I laugh and hold the list up to Lucy who is finally hanging up the phone with a loud slam. She huffs to herself and takes the list from me to read over. "He is so strange," Lucy says as she grabs her own to-do list from her side of the help desk, "He asked me to refill the backroom with apples."
"Did he at least buy the apples?" I ask with a laugh. "Or does he have a secret apple grove we know nothing about?"
"There's a ridiculous amount, so who knows? We'll have to give each customer one with their purchase because there is no way we can eat them before they go bad," she tells me before sitting back down in her chair.
Harv, our new boss, had inherited the shop from his grandmother. He is interesting to say the least, some long haired fellow, not quite sure where he came from, but kept the bookstore running smoother than his grandmother had. Despite his obvious quirks, he seemed to understand what the customers of Tulsa looked for in a bookstore – like apples apparently. The changes were weird, but significantly helpful because since I had first started working there with Lucy over a year ago, we finally saw our first ever raise.
I grab my to-do list and fold it neatly into the pocket of my skirt. If I got started with some of the tasks now, it will be easier for Lucy and me to lock up the shop on time. For some reason, we were staying later and later past closing. Lucy blamed the heat making us sluggish, I blamed the ridiculous to-do lists that made us stock up apple baskets in the back room. I am about to ask Lucy how her visit to her aunt's house went, but the phone rings again and Lucy rolls her eyes, snatching it from the receiver before it can ring a second time. I take this as my cue to begin the restocking process for Agatha Christie.
For just a moment, I am a little hurt by Harv's smart comment about other people reading her novels. If it was up to me, her books would be on the required reading lists for school. I adore Hercule Poirot – in every novel or short story or play, no matter how insufferable he might seem to others. Luckily for me and the other Poirot fans, there are three boxes labeled Christie next to the "Mystery, Detective, and Murder" shelves (Harv's rebranding for the section) and I dive in. For most people, the act of reshelving the books slow, almost boring work, but for me I enjoy feeling the smooth cool covers of each of the new books, greeting them in a sense before they sit and wait for the person who will pick them up for their next adventure.
"Nellie," Lucy calls from the help desk. Unfortunately for her, the phone has been ringing off the hook. Everything from disgruntled customers, people looking to order something we have out of stock, and people just plain lost. Which means that I have also taken over Lucy's list of to-dos set by Harv. I am more than okay with this as working with any disgruntled customer over the phone (or in person) is not my forte.
"Nellie," she calls again as I stack the last pretty apple into the basket Lucy had selected earlier to display for the customers. She wasn't kidding when she said Harv had purchased or harvested more than enough, but he had also purchased (or harvested) a ridiculous amount of bruised and I am almost positive house some worms. I leave those in the backroom for the rest of the employees.
Lucy is still on the phone at the help desk and from the way her body is angled I can tell she is trying to multi-task. "I am so sorry, my co-worker will be up here in just a moment," I hear her tell someone at the help desk.
"I don't mind waiting," the voice replies, and I jump at the familiarity. The apple I just settled at the top of the basket rolls out and I swear under my breath, before peeking further around the corner to find Ponyboy Curtis and Mark Jennings waiting at the desk.
I suck in a deep nervous breath, feeling my free hand run over my skirt and then fix the loose, frizzy hair back behind my ears before taking the full corner. Ponyboy stands up a little straighter when he sees me, and I feel a light tinge of blush color my cheeks.
"Hi Nell," he says as I set the basket of apples onto the counter. "You guys double as a grocery store now?"
"Yeah," I say with a grin "stop by next week and we'll be selling more than just some apples." I pick one out of the basket and hand it to him.
"Can I help you guys find something?" I ask, moving back around the counter to double check that no other lists were left for me while I was gone. Lucy shifts away from us, moving out of range to better listen to whatever complaint the customer was expressing.
"Not me," Mark says as he grabs an apple from the basket. He takes a large, crunchy bite out of it and raises his eyebrow towards me, "I'm not even sure I know how to read."
Lucy snorts from behind me and tosses a sharp look over her shoulder before returning to her phone call with a quick apology for the customer. "No sir, I ain't – I'm not laughing at you," she says with a sigh.
"What about you Pony?" I ask, "I can't imagine we have anything you haven't read yet."
"Untrue," Pony smiles, "I'm looking for Sam Spade."
"The Maltese Falcon," I say, stepping back around the counter. "Lucky for you, I just restocked our detective, mystery, murder section."
"With Agatha Christie," Lucy says covering the phone with her hand, "Yes, sir I am listening to you".
"People still read about Hercule Poirot?" Pony asks with a raised eyebrow.
"I will not stand for Poirot slander!" I say as I lead him through the bookshelves, "You comin' Mark?"
"No thanks, the place gives me the creeps," he says before turning his attention back to the apple in his hand.
Ponyboy chuckles behind me but follows closely. His presence comforting as we carefully move through the overstocked bookshelves. He stops every few steps, looking over the westerns (renamed as "Cowboys, Train Robbers, and Indians" by Harv) and then then the classics (renamed as "Boring for most people". I would have to talk to him about changing that one), before we finally reach my carefully coordinated "Mystery, Detective, and Murder" section.
"Dashiell Hammett," I say picking The Maltese Falcon off the shelf, "you have always I must say, a smooth explanation ready."
Ponyboy smiles, taking a step closer to me and looking down. I catch myself, once again, staring at the perfect shape of his lips and I imagine, one more, what it might be like to kiss them. Gently his fingertips brush against mine as he takes the book from my hands. My mind swirls with excitement and I feel my body leaning towards him just a little more.
"I take it this is one of the books you enjoyed," he says, but I notice that his voice is a little hoarser than normal.
"Not as much as I enjoy Hercule Poirot," I say with a smile, "but Sam Spade has a special place in my heart too."
"I'll take your word for it," he says. I let go of the book and turn back towards the bookshelf trying to look busy by fixing the Hammett novels to take up the missing space. "Any other recommendations?"
"What are you looking for?" I ask and he shrugs, lifting his hand to run a fingertip over the Christie novels. He pauses on Death on the Nile and looks at me.
"That is why most great love stories are tragedies," I say with a grin. "That one is one of my very favorites."
"Well then Mr. Poirot," Ponyboy says, "guess you're coming home with me too."
As I lead him back to the help desk, Ponyboy pauses once more in front of the "Cowboys, Train Robbers, and Indians" section. I wait next to him, watching as he patiently reads through the covers of a few I do not recognize. His brows are furrowed in concentration as he reads, and he seems completely oblivious to my admiration of him. Next time… I sigh and then try to busy myself in a hurry when he looks up.
"You know, Nell," he says as he places the book back in its rightful place. "I've been thinking … about you."
This causes me to jump in slight surprise and I look at him just in time to catch the blush that settles over his ears. I stay quiet, unsure if I should interrupt him.
"I – don't know if you want to, but maybe we can go to the movies on Friday?" Ponyboy asks and I smile, feeling the same dizzying feeling from our walk home. "There are a couple'a reruns happening at the drive-ins – few I haven't seen yet at least. I understand if you're not interested – just thought, well I just thought…"
"I'd love to, Ponyboy." I say with a smile, cutting him off from his nervous ramble. I feel a deeper blush dust over my face and turn to look away from him, pulling a book off the shelf and then putting it back exactly the way it was.
"Good," he says. "It's a date."
Ponyboy checks out at the register with Dale but makes sure he waves to me before walking out the door. Mark says something I can't quite make out, but I see Ponyboy smile and shake his head as they leave. I sigh and lean against the counter, still trying to process what just happened.
"Spill the beans, Nellie." Lucy says. She is finally free of the phone and is leaning over the counter with me, watching Ponyboy and Mark walk past the window with an interested glance.
Lucy, one of my oldest and best friends, missed the Mark and Bryon party due to spending the first week of summer at her aunts. I had tried to convince her that she was lucky to have missed the party, that nothing really special had happened at Mark and Bryon's when she called me the day after the party, that she didn't miss out on anything – judging by her face I know that she knew that to not be the case.
"So, you mean to tell me," Lucy says after I tell her everything. We're sitting over the cash register now, sorting through the change to make it an even deposit into the safe, "Ponyboy Curtis, just asked you out on a date?"
"Yeah, I guess so." I say with a small, embarrassed grin, "I can hardly believe it myself."
"Angel's gonna kill you," she laughs, and I toss a penny at her, hitting her square in the forehead.
"Shut up!" I tell her, "Angel's probably halfway back with Bryon for all we know."
"Doubtful," she says. "Mark was running his mouth all kinds when you and Ponyboy were off canoodling in the store."
I toss another penny at her for good measure, and she laughs, "Sounds like Bryon is done with Angel and who can blame him?"
"Angel's our friend," I remind her, and Lucy rolls her eyes.
"Angel's no one's friend and she sure ain't gonna be yours when she finds out your datin' her newest eye candy." Lucy says with a shake of her head.
I stay quiet and just nod my head. Lucy wasn't necessarily from our side of town. While the whole, Soc versus Greaser stopped quickly after everything that happened with Johnny and Dallas, it was obvious there were times she didn't understand the loyalty people from the Greaser side of town had for each other.
Catching onto my silence, Lucy sighs. "Look," she says, "all I know is that Angel's a drama queen, but she doesn't matter right now." Lucy grabs me by my shoulders and shakes me excitedly, causing a few of the dollar bills to fall onto the floor, "You're going on a date. With. Ponyboy. Curtis."
I laugh and push her off me, "I know! I can hardly believe it myself!"
"What are you going to where?" She asks, shoving the money we need to deposit into the envelope.
"Better question," I say with a grim smile, "how am I going to tell Two-Bit?"
A/N: Reviews are always appreciated.
