This Book Will Change Your Life

by Amanda Weaver

  “Yep. Senior year.”

  “What’s your major?”

  “English Lit, as crazy as that is.”

  “Why is that crazy?” That little furrowed line appears between her eyebrows. “It’s obvious you love books.”

  I shrug and peruse the shelves. “Can’t get rich with an English degree. At least not if you ask my dad.”

  “Well, what do you want to do?”

  I hesitate. This is where I’m supposed to say “law school,” but I don’t. For some reason, the truth pops out. “Grad school.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. The head of the English department here is amazing.” Again, I find myself oversharing, telling her something I haven’t said out loud to anyone. Maybe it’s because she’s a stranger, so it’s not so scary to be honest. I’ve got nothing to lose. “I’d love to stay on and get my master’s under him. Maybe go for my PhD, too. But… It won’t happen.”

  “What would you do with a master’s? I mean, once you’re out of school?”

  I grimace. “Teach, which I know is crazy.”

  “Why is that crazy? It sounds perfect for you.”

  I smile at her. “You barely know me.”

  Her giant Bambi eyes go wide and she blushes. “It-it just seems so obvious,” she stammers. “Even meeting you once. You’re so smart, and you know so much about books. You make everything sound interesting. I think you’d make an amazing teacher.”

  Jesus, I might be blushing after that. Nobody’s ever described me that way. I’ve never told anybody about that dream because I figured they’d roll their eyes and laugh. But just for a second, I can imagine myself really going for it—standing in front of a class of college students and discussing the complicated layers of literature.

  But that’s just a fantasy. I live in reality.

  “Well, not everybody thinks so.” I pass her another book. “Here, this one’s a maybe. What about you?”

  She turns the book around to look at the title. “Me, what?”

  “Chemistry, right? That’s a pretty significant major.”

  She looks pleasantly surprised. “Wow, you remembered? Honors Chem, actually.”

  Whoa. Pretty and wicked smart, too? “Seriously? Are you some sort of savant or something?”

  “No, I just had really good grades in high school. Why?”

  I glance at her and lift a shoulder. “You just seem so young. Like, too young to even be in college.”

  She bristles like a puffed up kitten. “I’m eighteen. A freshman. I’m not that much of a freak.” She must catch grief about her age all the time because it’s clearly a sore spot.

  “Never said you were. I just thought girls liked hearing they look young.”

  “I get carded going into R-rated movies.”

  Ouch. I laugh. “Okay, got it. Here, hold this one, too.”

  She’s quiet for a minute as I scan the shelves, debating the options. Gabriel García Márquez? Maybe…Graham Greene? That might be good. It’s been ages since I’ve read Greene.

  “Is that one good?”

  I start. “Hmm?”

  She looks from me to the book in my hand, smiling and eager to read.

  “Oh, no, I was thinking I wanted to read this again.” I sigh. “I want to read them all again. There are too many books and not enough hours in the day. Do you feel like that about science? Like there’s just not enough time to do everything you want to do?”

  The light in Hannah’s eyes dims a little, and her gaze drops. “Well, sure, I guess. My program’s really competitive, and I want to do well. You have to be dedicated, right?”

  That’s not what I meant, but I just smile and shrug. “Sure. So let’s figure out what you’re going to read next.”

  “Which one of those is your favorite?” she asks impatiently. “Just give me that one.”

  She motions to the Greene, but I hold it up out of her reach. “I told you, it doesn’t work like that. You’re on a book high. This is almost harder than picking your first book. What if I give you the wrong book now? What if it bores you, or it isn’t as good as the last book? Then that’s it. You’ll never come back to get another book.”

  Hannah smiles and her whole face lights up again. A guy could get addicted to that smile. “I promise you I’m coming back.” Pink flares in her cheeks again, and she hooks her hair behind her ears. “So which book?”

  It takes me another half hour to decide. While I debate the various merits of the choices at hand, we walk around the store, and I point out other books she should read, if she had all the time in the world. A couple of customers come in, but Hannah doesn’t leave, hanging out unobtrusively by the register while I ring people up. It’s nice to have her there, chatting excitedly about the possibilities for her next read.

  “Okay,” I tell her when the last customer clears out. “This is the one. The next book that changes your life.”

  I slide it across the counter to her.

  “A Prayer for Owen Meany. Is it about religion?”

  “No, not really. There’s some spirituality in there, but as a theme. It’s not a polemic. It’s just… It’s hard to explain. But listen, give me your phone. I want you to text me when you get to Owen and tell me what you think.”

  “My phone?” She digs it out of her bag and passes it over to me. I enter my number into her contacts.

  “Promise you’ll text me. Owen is the best part. You’ll see.”

  “You want me to text you?”

  I can’t help but smile. She sounds excited— Honestly, I am, too. I haven’t had this much fun talking about books in ages. I really hope she doesn’t forget. I don’t want to wait another week to talk to her again. “Yeah, sure.”

  Hannah grins and puts her phone away. “Okay, I will.”

  “Promise?” I give her hand a little nudge with mine. She blushes. Damn, she’s adorable— That blush will be the end of me.

  “Yeah, I promise.”

  “And you’ll come back next week for another book?”

  She looks right into my eyes, and my stomach drops. “I promise,” she says.

  Hannah tucks the book into her bag like it’s precious, smiles at me one last time, and heads out. I’m still blinking at the spot where she stood, not sure what just happened. I can’t remember the last time I felt this way, a little light-headed and stunned. It’s nearly closing already. Somehow half my workday slipped past while I was talking with Hannah.

  “Who was that?” Apparently, my roommate John came in as Hannah was going out. He looks back over his shoulder as she disappears down the sidewalk.

  “That’s Hannah. Get this, she doesn’t really read.”

  John fakes a gasp and claps a hand to his chest. “You’re flirting with a girl who doesn’t read? Are you feeling okay?”

  My face goes hot. “Shut up. I wasn’t flirting with her.”

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  “Seriously, she’s a freshman.”

  “So? Still eighteen. And my friend, that was definitely flirting.”

  I bite my lip. He has a point, I guess. I’m only twenty-one myself, older than her, but not that much. And I’m pretty sure we were flirting at the end there. But why would I do that? I don’t have room in my life for that. “Whatever. You know my situation.”

  John rolls his eyes. “You mean your hopeless crush on Alex?”

  I groan. “Why did I ever tell you about that? And who said it’s hopeless? She brings me coffee every time she comes in.”

  “You don’t even like coffee.”

  “It’s the thought that counts.”

  “So? Ask her out already if you’re so into her.”

  “I’m choosing my moment.”

  John laughs. “You’ve been choosing your moment for nearly a year. Pretty sure a thousand of them have already passed you by.”

  “What’s your point?”

  John shrugs. “Maybe if it was meant to happen, it would have happened already.”

  “You
’re an astrophysicist. Why are you mouthing off about fate?”

  “This isn’t science. It’s dating. And it’s pretty simple. Boy meets girl—”

  “Girl is perfect for boy.”

  John chuckles. “If you say so.”

  “She is.” John opens his mouth to argue, but I cut him off. “So are you here just to bust my ass or did you want something?”

  “Beer,” he says. “I want beer. Come with me to get some.”

  John and I were paired up randomly in the dorms freshman year, but we’re a pretty good fit, so we moved to an off-campus apartment sophomore year and have been together ever since. He’s an astrophysics major, but not nearly as serious and dry as that makes him sound. He’s way more laid-back than me and funnier, and the easy-going demeanor is deceptive.

  Most people have no idea how smart he is. Hell, I’ve been living with him for three years and sometimes I forget. Then he’ll drop some fact in conversation, or I’ll catch a glimpse of his homework and remember I’m friends with a young Einstein. He’s freakishly smart, the kind of smart that can coast through four years of astrophysics with a 4.0 and nearly no effort.

  I bet John won’t break an intellectual sweat in school until he’s well into his PhD. Sometimes I suspect that when he’s forty, John will unleash some theorem upon the world that will change humankind’s understanding of time and space, and he will have worked it out on the back of an envelope while he was watching Breaking Bad. He’ll publish the book that changes everything, and then he’ll order a pizza.

  “So?” John prompts. “Beer? Baseball? You in?”

  I hesitate. “I don’t know. Where do you want to go?”

  John’s not into the whole college bar scene, and neither am I. He hates those loud beer-and-cheap-shots places near campus nearly as much as I do.

  “I’m just heading to Smitty’s.” He shrugs. “Nothing fancy. The Reds/Braves game starts in an hour.”

  Smitty’s is okay. It’s on the edge of the downtown district, too old and uncool to be popular with the frat crowd. It’s mostly locals and the oddball college students like John and me. Since I’ve yet again failed to ask Alex out, cold beers and the Reds in the playoffs sounds great. Then I’ll go home and read, and I absolutely will not wait for Hannah to text me.

  Chapter Five

  Hannah

  Hannah: Hi, it’s Hannah. I just got to Owen. Why is everything capitalized?

  Ben: That’s how he talks.

  Hannah: He talks in all caps?

  Ben: He says in the book that his voice sounds different.

  Hannah: But it’s just capitalized letters. What does that sound like?

  Ben: What do you think it sounds like? What do you hear in your head when you read it?

  Ben: Hannah?

  Ben: Are you still reading?

  Ben: Hannah?

  Hannah: Oh. OH!

  Hannah: I love this book!

  Hannah: Was it all really predestined, do you think?

  Ben: Owen and the kids? Maybe Owen’s the only one who knows for sure.

  Hannah: But

  “Why are you smiling like a crazy person, Hannah?”

  I jump and drop my phone in mid-reply. “What? Nothing. I was just sending a text.”

  Jasmine crosses her arms over her chest and stares me down. “Texting your dad? Your friend Samantha back home?”

  I roll my eyes. “I was texting Ben.”

  “Bookstore Ben?” She grins. “You guys are texting now? When did it escalate to texting?”

  “This past weekend. He gave me his number.”

  “Ooooh, this sounds good.”

  “Not like that. He gave me another book to read and wanted me to text him when I got to a certain part to tell him what I thought. We’ve been texting about the book since then. That’s all.”

  “Well, okay then.”

  I should ask Jasmine for advice about Ben. I’m so out of my depth with him. I like him. I really like him. I’m more excited talking to Ben about a book than I ever felt with Scott, my boyfriend for most of senior year.

  Scott was nice, but during the first week here at Arlington State, a bunch of girls on our floor got drunk, and everybody shared how far they’d gone and with how many guys. When they got to me, for just a split second, I forgot I’d lost my virginity to Scott. I’m pretty sure that’s not how it’s supposed to be. There’s something better out there, and I want to find it. Now I think I know who I want to find it with.

  “Is that good?” I blurt out. “That he wanted me to text him?”

  “It’s not bad. It’d be better if he was calling you to go out, but it could be worse. He hasn’t texted you pictures of his junk or anything, right?” She cranes her neck to look at my phone.

  I laugh and hide it under my leg. “No. There are no junk pictures involved. Just words. Not the least bit dirty.” Sadly.

  She hums, poking through the overloaded tray of jewelry on her dresser, looking for the mate to her earring. She’s getting ready to go out. Of course. “All right. At least he has manners.”

  “It’s just… I like him. A lot.”

  Jasmine chuckles. “Yeah, I can tell. Just let it happen the way it happens. Sounds like you guys are off to a good start.”

  My face warms as I smile. “I hope so.”

  “So, now on to the important stuff. How do I look?”

  She spins around and strikes a pose. She looks amazing, of course.

  “You look great. Where are you going? It’s Tuesday.”

  “A team thing with Sean.”

  Jasmine and Sean have been dating since high school. She’s a serious business major, but she came to Arlington State because he’s on the football team here, and she wanted to be near him. He’s kind of a big deal on campus, but you’d never know it seeing him with Jasmine. He worships her.

  She smooths her hair again and slicks on some more lip gloss. “Have fun with your texting date!” And then she’s gone.

  I’ve just settled back down with Owen Meany when my phone buzzes under my thigh. The caller ID pops up, and my breath catches in my throat. It’s Ben. Calling me.

  “Hey.” It’s a miracle I sound so nonchalant, because I sure don’t feel it. My palms are sweating, and I’m so giddy I could bounce on the bed.

  “Hey, you quit texting in the middle of an important part. Are you still reading?”

  “Oh, sorry, my roommate, Jasmine, was talking to me. She just left. Something with her boyfriend Sean’s team.”

  “What team?”

  “Football.”

  “Wait. Sean Jackson?”

  “You know him?”

  Ben chuckles. “I know of him. Everybody knows who Sean Jackson is.”

  “He’s nice. Super sweet with Jasmine. So this book…”

  “You’re liking it?”

  I grin. “Loving it. Owen’s such a bizarre character, but I love his certainty about everything. He just knows.”

  “Knows what?”

  “Exactly who he is, why he’s here, and what he’s going to do. Just like Jasmine, actually.”

  “Does Jasmine talk in all caps, too?”

  “No, but she lives in all caps. She wants to manage one of those monster resort hotels in Vegas, like the Bellagio or Caesar’s Palace, one day. She’s been determined to make it happen since she was a kid.”

  “Huh,” Ben says. “I wonder what it feels like to be that confident about your future.”

  I sigh. “Wish I knew.”

  “But you have to have a pretty clear idea for yourself, too, right? Honors Chemistry at eighteen doesn’t just happen. You have to have a plan.”

  He’s not wrong; I did have a plan. I do. I always have. It’s just getting harder and harder to see it lately. “Mostly my plan was to be like my dad.”

  “He’s a scientist, too?”

  “A chemist. He works for Park Pharmaceuticals. He’s working on a drug now in clinical trials that increases the effectiveness of chemotherapy i
n cancer patients, so doctors can use less chemo and get more effective, targeted results.”

  “Wow.”

  “I know, right? He saves lives. Like, he’s in a lab all day, but at the other end, people might live who would have died before. And…” I hesitate. Should I really share this with Ben? We barely know each other— What if I’m oversharing? But he’s silently waiting for me to continue, and I don’t know, he seems like the kind of guy who’d be cool about it. “See, my mom died of cancer when I was ten.”

  “Oh, Jesus, I’m sorry.”

  “No, it’s okay. I’m okay. My parents were always chemists with an interest in pharmaceuticals— That’s how they met, in chemistry class in college. But after we lost her…Well, it’s more than a job for Dad. He’s stayed at Park even though he could make more money someplace else because he believes in the work they do. The drugs they’re developing could help so many people. He wants to make a difference.”

  “And so do you?”

  “Yeah. I do.”

  “So you’re going to be a chemist, too. That’s cool.”

  I grimace. “But…”

  A pause. “But what?”

  I hesitate. “I failed my first chem test. Like, I bombed it. I’ve been doing chemistry experiments with my dad since I was four. Projects, science fair entries, special assignments— We’ve done it all together.”

  “That’s great,” Ben says. “You’re lucky to have that kind of relationship with him.”

  “But that’s the thing— The minute I was on my own, I crashed and burned.”

  “It’s your first semester. It’s rough for everybody. You’ll get a handle on it soon.”

  “Maybe I don’t want to.”

  The words just hang there, and I can’t take them back. I can’t believe I even said them. To Ben, of all people, who I barely know. I bite my lip and close my eyes, fighting a lump in my chest that aches with every breath.

  “Are you having some sort of existential crisis while reading Owen Meany, Hannah?” Ben asks with a laugh. Thank God he laughs. If he didn’t laugh, I’d probably start crying.

  “Maybe. Bet you never expected that when you gave it to me.”

  “Books can be dangerous. You never know when they’re going to blow up, and what they’ll take out when they do. Why do you think dictators are so fond of burning them? One idea can lead to another, and then before you know it, people are going crazy having thoughts and opinions and stuff.”