Many people around the downtown area claimed Bayshore was a growing city, and perhaps they were correct in a sense. Year after year, the population continued to increase in and around the shopping district. Skyscrapers grew taller and taller, and the apartments struggled to keep pace with the new residents. The same wasn’t true of the rest of the city, the more rural areas in particular. There was nowhere left to expand, blocked by the lake to the south and east, and landlocked to the north by our sister city of Asheville.
It was always an experience to see the trees that had been commonplace give way to the busy residential streets of downtown. No longer did the stench of manure sting my nose through the rolled-down windows of the old beater I was driving. Instead, I had to slow down and obey the rules of the road, yielding to pedestrians before crosswalks and braking at the traffic lights.
The whole no cop, no stop method wasn’t going to cut it here.
I turned down an alleyway that I would have no business in outside of daylight hours and took another right turn. This side street would have made for a good residential neighborhood had the district left it alone. Honestly, for such a cramped downtown compared to major cities, it was almost like we were trying to scream to the world that we weren’t a bunch of hicks. The only saving grace for this spot was that the street led to a dead end. People saw it as more of a novelty and stuck to the restaurant chains, department stores, malls, and offices that were all within a few blocks from each other. It was here that I wanted to be, though, because at the very end of the road was where Tyson’s Bookstore was tucked away.
I flicked my right blinker off and winced when a pothole in the parking lot snagged the front tire. The bumper dipped and the frame of the car rattled as I claimed a parking spot near the entrance. I climbed out of the driver’s seat and spared a glance at the state of the tire. It didn’t seem flat, so I continued onto the sidewalk and toward the store. Dad could take a look at it later if there were any issues on the return home.
Opening the glass door caused a small bell overhead to chime. A welcome blast of hot air greeted me, relieving me of the chills I had gotten from the few seconds I had to spend out in the frigid cold. Examining the display of anime merchandise–shirts, Blu-ray discs, manga, and Funko pops lined the table–my hands slipped into the front pocket of my hoodie, and I walked into the comic book aisle after returning a greeting to the employee behind the counter. He was a familiar face, but I knew already that he wasn’t Tyson. I wasn’t actually sure there was a Tyson, but that didn’t stop me from looking at the name tag of any unfamiliar person wearing a pin-striped shirt. With enough determination maybe I would find the legendary owner one day and thank him for creating a nerd’s paradise.
It didn’t matter what piece of geek culture you were searching for, Tyson had your back. Want some manga? There was an entire corner dedicated to it just past where I was now. What about if you're not some commoner pleb and you have more refined tastes? A huge selection of light novels took up the entire west wing, from titles that were commonplace in the anime community to obscure titles that I didn’t even know were being published in English. Hell, there was even racier stuff partitioned away in the back, behind a flimsy curtain, if that was what floated your boat. Tyson wasn’t here to judge; he’d get you the goods, no questions asked, except for a valid picture ID.
What I needed, though, was to pick up another copy of Emerald Princess Squire. The torn pages littering the wooden floor ran through my mind, but I shoved such thoughts aside. This wouldn’t be a repeat of that. Unless I was reading it, this first volume would remain safe and sound on the bookshelf in my room, far away from those pieces of shit.
I continued through the aisle, browsing for any stray comic book that caught my eye. To my surprise, the tattered cover of Revolt on Earth: Issue 11 was nestled in the corner right above the fifth issue of a different series. That was the volume I had been hunting forever, it being so rare because of the limited press run. As I examined the sleek back of the comic, the image of the masked battle suit sitting perched atop the short paragraph of summary drew my attention. Just below that, in the bottom right-hand corner, was the bold first edition stamp, which meant this was an absolute steal at just twenty-five bucks. Maybe fortune was favoring the bold today or something like that, anyway.
Emerging from the aisle, I passed underneath a hanging sign advertising that the light novel was straight ahead; leaning against the final letter ‘l’ was some character from an idol anime I vaguely recognized. I held my prize close to my side, still happy that I managed to stumble across it by pure accident. And under the flickering light of a dying bulb, it was by pure accident that I ran into her.
“Ah…”
“Oh…”
That about summed up the situation. Nicole did a good imitation of Aubrey at the end of our introduction to the club, opening and closing her mouth without a sound. I wasn’t interested in sticking around to hear what she had to say, so I booked it in a random direction. Anything to put some space between us.
“Rain check.”
Her strained voice carried, drawing the attention of a group of guys passing by, while I stopped in my tracks. They spared a brief glance before laughing about some drunken shenanigans they had planned for the night. I followed behind them until I was within arm’s reach of her.
“Why are you here?”
“I knew this was where you bought that book from because you’d been using the receipt as a bookmark.” She held up two copies of the first volume of Emerald Princess Squire. “I really didn’t have any clue they were going to do that.”
My breath hitched in my throat, forcing me to pause before answering her. “If this is your way of apologizing, you can forget it. I’ll buy my own.”
“You can take it any way you want to. I couldn’t care less, but I refuse to owe you one. With this, we’ll be even.”
I scoffed. “That sounds more like you.”
She waved her hand like that was the entirety of the patience she had for this particular line of discussion. “Are you done shopping?”
“Just as done as I am talking to you.”
“Same. Meet me at the checkout.”
She pivoted on her heels, walking down the aisle I had come from. After scoping out the light novel section for anything of interest–a pathetic attempt to delay the inevitable–I decided I kept her waiting long enough and headed in the same direction.
The drive home was uneventful, and I kicked off my shoes in the hallway.
“I’m back. Going to finish up my homework now.”
I carried on upstairs, taking his muffled reply as an affirmation. The two plastic bags in my clenched fist crinkled while I plodded up the stairs and ducked into my room. Closing my door so suddenly caused the letters strewn under my desk to sway and bounce further back. They were unsightly. Disgusting. I swept them up into a pile before shoving them into the desk drawer where they would never see the light of day again.
With them out of sight, and out of mind, I withdrew the novel from the bag. The other bag handles were hung from the back of my chair as I plopped onto my bed. I opened the front cover to begin reading only for the receipt to slide down the page and land on my chest. Yet, it wasn’t just the receipt; it was wrapped around a pack of trading cards from the anime. And underneath the total cost of the purchase, there was a message scribbled in faded ink.
Make sure you finish reading it all by Monday so you can answer any questions.