Wes hesitates. This isn’t the ideal setting BuzzFeed advised him about. He’s sticky with sweat and not wearing his lucky T-shirt. Teen Vogue would be disappointed that Wes hasn’t organized a flash mob or at least a marching band to accompany him but that’s fine.
He just needs to do it.
Wes just needs to…
“Watch your step, Wesley!”
On cue, Wes trips on a crack in the pavement and repeats his epic face-plant from last night. In the distance, he can hear Nico cracking up.
Obviously, today’s not the day.
Chapter Thirteen
Wes doesn’t care how anybody spins it: Physical Education sucked. Four mandatory semesters of sweat and team building activities like dodgeball just to graduate? Hell no.
But there was one positive to his gym experience: long-distance running. He was freaking boss at that.
Running always gave him a clear head.
Ella’s still snoring in Leo’s bedroom when Wes slips on a pair of red Pumas. He tugs on a loose tank top with palm tree designs on it, and an old pair of Santa Monica High gym shorts. Earbuds in, Wes jogs down Ocean Avenue.
He takes off with no destination in mind.
After two hours, he ends up at Tongva Park. He stops to stretch his legs on a wooden bench. He hasn’t gone on a run since graduation. His calves burn, but he feels good.
The sun’s a gold gem in the center of a clear blue sky. Wes inches over until he’s under the shade of a curved palm tree. The giant leaves spread above him like a green roof. He pulls out his phone to check the time. 1:37 p.m. Less than a half hour until his shift at the bookstore starts.
Leaning over, elbows on his knees, Wes pulls up his notes app. He needs to double-check his ideas before he meets with the others today. He scrolls past all his other lists but pauses over an unfinished one.
His heart lurches; his breath stalls.
Wes & Nico’s Ultimate Guide to UCLA Greatness
1. Catch the Big Blue Bus until Nico gets a car. Get a license, Wes!!!
2. Visit Los Angeles County Museum of Art. Take selfies in front of Urban Light like a true basic tourist.
3. Eat @ Fat Sal’s deli!
4. Study at Espresso Profeta. Learn to like coffee—all the cool college kids drink ICED COFFEE!
5. Ice cream sandwiches @ Diddy Riese.
6. UCLA Planetarium. Kiss Nico under the stars!
Wes blinks away the sting in his eyes. There it is. The plan he made sophomore year just before Nico’s life went into a tailspin.
Why do I still have this?
His thumb hovers over the delete option. It’s a pipedream now. But Wes closes the list, keeps it tucked in his phone’s memory like a hope.
Today is about Once Upon a Page. He refuses to let some cheap Starbucks knockoff come into his territory and take over. There’s no way he’s letting his comic book sanctuary be demolished and turned into a bar where someone can order fifty different versions of the same damn latte. No one’s writing their amateur bestseller in the same spot where Cooper reads crappy novels. Freshmen will not invade his space to sip Frappuccinos and compare selfies.
He’ll deal with his other issues later.
By the time Wes has reviewed his list to save the bookstore, it’s 2:09 p.m. He’s late for his shift, but at least the tightness in his chest has loosened. Besides, it’s only a two-minute walk from here to Once Upon a Page. He pockets his phone, reties his shoes, and stands. His eyes scan all the places the sun touches—the batches of mountain aloe nearby, the pebble pathways that wind all around the park, monster palm trees reaching green hands into the sky.
Today’s too pretty to waste. I’m already late. Might as well enjoy it.
With a quick stretch of his hamstrings, Wes jogs in the direction opposite from the bookstore.
“You’re late,” announces Ella before Wes has one crimson-sneakered foot through the open doorway.
The irony of Ella Louise Graham, notorious tardy employee, calling him out isn’t lost on Wes. But he ignores her.
“A book drive,” he says, strolling into the partly vacant bookstore. Most of the city’s population is clogging Third Street Promenade, as he observed while stopping by a smoothie shop nearby. Lateness might as well come with a banana-orange-strawberry-peanut butter concoction.
Ella, dressed in a sleeveless Debbie Harry T-shirt and black tights, sizes him up. “Nice legs.”
Mrs. Rossi has never implemented a strict dress code, so Wes didn’t bother changing between his jog and showing up at the bookstore.
“A book drive; that’s my first idea to save this place,” he says, turning away from Ella.
Ella pops her gum. “Weak, but not terrible.”
Anna leans against the front counter; her hair is spun into a braid-bun hybrid. “What’s that?”
“We’ll head down to the pier and boardwalk with some stock.” Wes crosses around the counter and flops onto his favorite stool. “We can hand out flyers and discount codes. Sell some of the more popular books.”
“I think we’ll need permits to sell the books out there, though,” Zay notes from the carpet. He’s surrounded by a pile of books. Wes can see formulas and numbers and, nope, he doesn’t want any piece of that.
“We can do that.” Wes unlocks his phone with one hand while slurping his smoothie. “It can’t be that hard.”
“I’m pretty sure an adult’s signature is required,” Zay remarks.
“Cool. I’m eighteen,” Wes starts, but Ella cuts him off.
“Eighteen does not equate adultness. It’s only a marker used to enforce rules, not mental maturity.”
“Maybe you could ask Leo for assistance?” Nico appears from between the aisles, stepping around Zay before sitting next to Wes. “He could help with a lot of this.”
“Yeah,” mumbles Wes, but contacting Leo is the last thing on his mind. “Has anyone else come up with ideas?”
Cooper hops onto the counter next to Ella. Surprisingly, she doesn’t explode. But her dark, cold glare says she’s considering it. “An author appearance,” he says, hands spread above his head as if he’s highlighting some invisible marquee. “People love the chance to meet anyone famous.”
Wes nods. Los Angeles is full of notorious names. Mrs. Rossi used to host book launches and writers’ clubs and author signings before Wes came along. Back when she had a little more pull. Now, the only bestselling author popping in is Savannah Kirk.
“Who do we know?” Zay asks, confused. “Besides Wes’s mom. No offense, bro.”
Wes shrugs as if it’s nothing. But it’s true. Savannah Kirk isn’t due home from Italy until late August. They need immediate star power.
“I’ll find someone,” Cooper vows.
“Cool,” Wes says, adding another item to his list. “What else?”
“We could host a kids’ book corner,” Nico suggests. The warm pressure of their elbows pressed together is a mild distraction for Wes. He stares at his phone while trying to focus on Nico’s voice. “Once or twice a week, we could host a book reading. Parents are always looking for ways to entertain their children. Plus, it means they’ll drop loads of money on the books their kids won’t stop screaming about.”
“We can dress in character.” Anna claps animatedly. “Kids love that!”
“You won’t make three grand off costumes and children’s books,” Ella says flatly.
Wes cocks his head in her direction. “What do you have?”
The corners of her mouth curl. “Speed booking.”
“What the actual fu—”
Again, Ella cuts Wes off. “We get on Instagram. Twitter. All the networks.” She nudges Cooper. His face brightens. Ella continues. “We hit up all the singles. Or the ones who happily pretend to be single on social media. We offer a one-night event where th
ey come in here with their favorite books and participate in quick, one-on-one rounds of getting to know someone else. We can do an entry charge plus sell books.”
“So, like speed dating but with books?” Anna questions.
“Exactly.”
“Wow.” Zay’s mouth hangs open. “That’s kind of brilliant.”
Elbows on the counter, Wes leans forward. “Who are you, and what’ve you done with Ella Graham?”
“Eat shit,” Ella says. “I’m the only one who cares enough about this place to come up with true money-making ideas.”
“I like my idea,” Wes whispers to his phone.
“Me too.” Afternoon light peeking through the front window gleams off the lenses of Nico’s glasses.
“Thanks.” Wes offers him his white Styrofoam cup. “Try.”
Nico doesn’t hesitate. Their fingers brush as Nico grips the cup. He slurps, then rubs his temples, shivering. “Brain freeze.”
They laugh together.
“Oh.” Cooper snaps his fingers. “An open mic night! People can come in and read their favorite book passages. Or take their favorite quotes and turn them into a song.”
“I like that.” Anna swipes her phone screen a few times. “Kyra can help. Get the coffee shop involved. They might let us borrow their space.”
“Is this an excuse for you to read poems about Wes’s mom?” Ella inquires.
“Coop. Gross.” Wes shudders.
“What? Not cool.” Cooper’s face wrinkles. “All my sonnets are about Angie Thomas.”
“Yo. I respect that,” says Zay, fist raised in the air.
Wes’s thumbs blur across his phone’s screen.
The Bookish League: Saving Once Upon a Page
1. Book Drive—Text Leeann to ask Leo for help.
2. Storytime—Buy costumes.
3. Author Meet-n-Greet—Find someone other than Mom.
4. Speed Booking—Leave up to Ella. Notify local authorities.
5. Open Mic Night—Talk to Kyra. Don’t let Cooper read poetry.
“This is awesome. I’m already getting content ready for the bookstore’s social media accounts.” Cooper twists on the counter, holding his screen in front of Wes. “We officially have an Instagram, Twitter, FB, Snap, VSCO.” He scrolls through each page.
Wes is impressed. @OnceUponaPageBookstore is live.
“Let me know when we get verified,” Zay says, shifting to his knees before standing. He dusts off his army-green joggers. “I’m gonna go hit Kyra up for an iced coffee. Anyone in?”
Anna quickly follows while fixing loose pieces of her blonde hair. “Coffee and Kyra. Yes.”
“I need to head out too,” Nico says, packing up a few books in his drawstring nylon backpack. He tucks his skateboard under one arm.
“Hot date?” Ella asks, strategically talking to Nico while staring at Wes.
Wes bites his thumbnail to refrain from flipping her the bird. But he anticipates Nico’s response. Mrs. Rossi usually schedules Nico for longer, later shifts.
“If you count babysitting a date, then, yeah.” Nico sniffs, pushing a hand through his hair. “Mom’s got a business dinner with clients.”
Mrs. Alvarez is a bilingual consultant for an insurance firm. According to Google searches, it pays well. Occasionally, she drives into the city or to places like Malibu for client meetings and consultations.
“I promised my sisters we’d play that new dance game on Xbox.”
“Disco Dance Revolution Xtreme?” Cooper says, awed.
“That one,” confirms Nico in a flat voice. “Anyway, I’m on little monster patrol for the night.”
The twins are seven now, which makes Sofía nearly nine years old.
“It’s a shame you have to work,” Nico says, chewing the inside of his cheek while looking at Wes.
“Yeah.”
He wouldn’t mind finding an excuse to sneak Nico out to the beach to execute his plan. Then they could spend the night sipping juice boxes and marathoning Pixar movies with the twins passed out on the floor, Sofía tucked under his arm, and his own head pillowed by Nico’s shoulder. It’s the perfect boyfriend scenario.
But Wes has a shift to work. And a bookstore to keep in business.
“Next time?”
Nico reaches out to tug on a few of Wes’s curls. “Eres el major, Wesley.” He shuffles from behind the counter and fist-bumps Zay on his way to the door.
“Wait!” screeches Cooper. He holds his phone above his head, beaming. “Major notification just received.”
“What alien language are you speaking?” Ella snaps.
Cooper continues to wave his phone around. “So, my buds Jimmy and Savvy hit my DMs about this kicking get-together happening two nights from now. Beach bonfire. Tunes. Fellowship. Cool peeps community outreach at its finest.”
“First of all, no one calls themselves Jimmy in this decade,” Ella says. “He sounds sketch.”
“He’s cool.”
“Coming from you, that’s confirmation of this person’s shadiness,” Ella declares.
“There’ll be booze.” Cooper wiggles his eyebrows. “And choice selections of herbal refreshments.”
Ella closes her eyes and sighs. “Fine. Where?”
“The Howls,” Cooper sings, eyes lit like a field of stars.
Wes drops his head into his folded forearms. The Howls. First off, it’s the most vapid name he’s ever heard. Generations ago, a group of pre-college freshmen found a location off the beach that was hidden by rocks and scrub. They called it The Howls because, when the wind hits just right, it sounds as if the ocean is emitting this haunting song. Secondly, it’s not that much of a “secret.” Adults know about it but choose not to give the kids who convene there hell because it’s harmless and no one’s been killed yet.
But it’s notorious for its summer parties hosted by people without the kind of pull and fake IDs to hit up real clubs, the ones who would rather spend summer getting wasted than think about the future—the intoxicated Wes Hudsons of the city.
Cooper glances around their small circle. “So, are we all in?”
Zay shrugs. “Sounds harmless.”
“That’s what all the murder victims in horror movies say,” Wes mutters.
“If Kyra goes, I’m in,” Anna says. Wes gets that. They’re both young college girls. If he was Anna, he doesn’t know if he’d be caught without backup on the beach at night with a bunch of slacker teens like them.
Cooper’s phone chimes, and his face lights up again. “She’s in.”
Something warm passes over Anna’s face.
“Wessssssss?”
Wes isn’t really in the mood for sand in his shorts and pretending to care what song the dude with the guitar is singing. Also, navigating conversations about college with strangers is the worst. It doesn’t matter. He’s not going without Nico, which is the most unlikely thing to happen because…
“Sweet. I’m down,” Nico says.
Wes’s face falls. It’s not as if Nico doesn’t party. They both have, occasionally. But they were the two teens most likely to skip those things for a night at the movies and burritos after.
“Wesley?” Nico blinks at him.
“Uh.” Wes’s truly perfected this deer-in-the-headlights thing. His shoulders droop as he says, “Sure. Sounds dope. I can’t wait.”
He’s become a first-rate liar.
Chapter Fourteen
The first sign this is going to be a terrible night: Someone’s singing Ed Sheeran in an off-key, raspy voice.
From above the rocks, Wes surveys the scene with narrowed eyes and crossed arms. The tuneless singer is a white guy with unkempt brown hair, the beginning of a five o’clock shadow, and an unzipped red hoodie that shows off his bare chest. He’s sitting at a firepit, surrounded
by a small group dressed in enough flannel and denim to be an American Eagle ad. Slowly, others join their band from different parts of the beach, enchanted by the flames and bad pop covers.
“Beer, here. Beer, there. Now we’ve got beer everywhere,” shouts some frat-bro-wannabe with a giant cooler resting on one of his wide shoulders. The gold, curled script across his oversized sweatshirt says, “CAL,” and Wes’s not surprised.
The Howls is notorious for drawing this kind of audience.
“At least it’s a nice night,” Anna comments, standing next to Wes.
The outline of the crescent moon is sharp as the blade of a scythe. In the distance, the pier’s still-lit Ferris wheel spreads its colors over the inky-black ocean. The wind rips its familiar whine; some of the people laugh while others seek shelter under heavy blankets.
Cooper runs up beside Anna. “It’s gonna be great.” He giggles, a clear indication he’s partaken of a shared joint with Anna on the drive over.
“That’s what all the white guys who know they’re going to survive a horror movie say,” Zay points out. Against the chill of another breeze, he tugs down the cuffs of his orange hoodie and hugs himself.
Cooper rummages through his backpack. “Dude, I brought rolling papers and some of Laguna’s finest,” he says as a peace offering.
Zay high-fives him. “Okay. Let’s do this.”
“We don’t even know anyone here,” Wes argues.
“What? I know loads of people here,” Cooper says.
That doesn’t comfort Wes.
“I do too.” Kyra pops her head between Wes and Anna’s shoulders. “Few of Trojan’s coolest. I know two girls from the coffee shop are here.” The light from her phone shines blue across her face. She’s wearing a denim jacket over a pink crop top.
“They seem harmless,” Ella says.
Wes loses all his allies before they set foot on the beach.
Bits of the party spread out across the sand. A new fire sparks a few feet away; people gather around. Embers pop through the flames to float upward like fireflies.
Nico nudges his way into their line. He bumps Wes’s shoulder. “We don’t have to stay long,” he promises. “An hour, tops. After that, we can vacate if you want.”
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