Denial by Stephanie Wilson (the ebook reader .txt) 📖

back towards the door and turned the door knob. I could feel his eyes on my back the entire time, it felt as though he almost expected me to say something – to argue. But instead I just left.

I guess you couldn’t blame him for assuming I was a drug user. After all, I was a child of the state; stereotypes would predict that I wasn’t stealing or dealing, I would be smoking. As I walked I wondered if Mr Abbott was having images of me hitting up the local drug dealer in seedy back alleys (though it didn’t look like there was such a place in Sunny Haven).

As soon I had stepped out of that door, it was like someone had physically stepped off my chest allowing me to breathe deeply again. I wasn’t entirely sure if it was just my nerves and the new environment, or if it was the less then hospitable vibes of Mr Abbott that made that house feel so constricting. Either way being out of there was a good feeling.

Each step I took away from that houses I savoured.

It only took me ten minutes to walk to the shops which consisted of only a small block of mismatched buildings. There were many options in which I could ask for a job, two cafes, one quite shabby looking and the other appeared quite (for a lack of another word) privileged. There was a diner too, with the wonderful smell of fresh apple pie oozing out its doors. There was also a petrol station, a grocery and even a pet store. All had potential, though none were advertising for staff on their door.

I walked past the diner, thinking the petrol station might be worth a go when something caught my eye across the road.

I did a double take and looked back at the peeling blue sign.

‘Bright’s New and Used Bookstore’.

In the window there was display of the classics, a mismatch of different editions. There was the Great Gatsby, Pride and Prejudice, the Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy, of Mice and Men and the Three Musketeers. You didn’t see many bookstores that weren’t part of a chain store very often and it gave off the vibe that you would never know what you would uncover there.

I stopped walking for a second, debating.

Your meant to be saving Anna, you don’t need any books…

But I couldn’t help myself. I darted through the traffic and went through the door. As the door opened I heard a bell dingle in the back. The smell of books greeted me, musty, wooden and dusty. A smell that I adored.

Every wall in the store was head to toe shelves, put into section by a carved wooden sign that hung from the ceiling saying ‘Crime’, ‘Teen’ or ‘Biographies’. Further mismatched bookshelves were places sporadically throughout the store, and a large table sat in the middle, covered messily in books that were on sale. What kind of genre these books were was anyone’s guess.

A boy who seemed a little older than me looked up as I entered. He graced me with an obligatory quick smile of acknowledgment and then returned to what he was doing which seemed to be making some kind of display – crime books, by the look of the covers.

I went to the closest wall and ran my fingers along the various spines of the books, reading the titles as I went.

“Looking for something specific?” the boy said from his display. He had a soft voice, quiet and a little bit unsure. I turned to him to see him still focused on his work, squatting down on his hunches and sorting through a pile of books on the floor. The only reason I knew he had in fact spoken was because he shot me a look from under his messy mop of curly brown hair that had fallen into his eyes. His shoulders were a little hunched, but he had the build of somebody who could play rugby – not at all the sort of person you would expect to work at a bookshop.

“No, nothing specific...thanks.”

I wandered my way through the bookshelves to the classics section. Running my fingers along the spines of the books at random. I would pull one out every now and then if the title sounded familiar or interesting in some way, and read the blurb.

    Fifteen minutes later, I brought my three books to the counter.

   I stood there a little while, gazing around awkwardly. The boy was still hunched over his pile of books, stacking carefully. After what felt like an uncomfortable long time, I gave an awkward throat clear. The boy jerked a little and spun around, one of the books falling down off his carefully stacked pile. His face flushed a little. He immediately got up, wiping his hands on his trousers and hurried around the counter. He was quite a lot taller than I had first thought. Of course I was quite short, so everyone seemed tall to me.

“Sorry,” he said, making his way around the counter, “you’re so quiet I forgot you were there.”

I shrugged.

“No big deal.”

“Quite an eclectic collection you’ve got there.”

“Well, they do say variety is the spice of life.”

He gave a small smile – indulging the idiotic comment.

“I tried reading this one once,” he said, holding up ‘A brave New World’, “but honestly, it was so dry I wanted to claw my face off.”

I laughed, “it’s almost like you want me to spend less money.”

“Good point…” he said, “I stand corrected, best and most engaging thing I’ve ever read.”

He handed me the bag and the receipt.

“Thanks…”

I turned to leave

You never know until you ask.

A familiar voice rang through my head so loud I came to a stop mid turn. A memory of the sing song voice and the smell of musk ran through me suddenly. I forced it down again and bit the inside of my cheek.

Not now.

Turning back around, I dug deep to find some courage.

“Hey, ah…I’m new in town and I was wondering if you knew of any jobs going at the moment?”

I hope that it wasn’t as jumbled and fast as it sounded in my ears. Asking for help was something that made me feel as if a golf ball was residing in my throat. 

“Actually, our staff member who does Saturday’s and the afternoon shift on Friday is moving out of town to go to Uni. If you like, I can go ask the boss if he’s willing to interview you?”

Surprised by my luck, I stumbled over my words of consent.

“That would be amazing, thank you.”

He disappeared out the back and reappeared with an elderly man behind him. As it turned out, all the staff at this store wouldn’t be the type of people you would expect to work there. Despite being in what I would guess to be late sixties, the boss had a burly physic better suited to be a logger then that as an owner of a book store. He gestured for me to go into his office with him and we sat down. A few minutes of random chitchat and I felt that I liked the man. He came across as honest, and the laugh lines around his eyes would crinkle with his easy smile.

“Well now Anna Gray, if that’s your real name,” he had said, to which I gave an awkward laugh, “that’s an awfully long list of references for someone your age. So long in fact that I am inclined to not believe it.”

I paused for a second, debating, then decided that the truth would be the best bet.

“I’ve been working since I was twelve, and I’ve lived in twelve separate towns since then,”

“Twelve towns, you say? What, are your parent’s carnival workers?”

Something you always note when you are foster child is the way the word ‘parent’ is thrown around. People assume that you have parents, people assume that they are still around. Every time parent, or family, or mum, or dad, is mentioned it is like someone physically reached right on through my rib cage and gave my heart a small squeeze. Just a gentle reminder of what I’m lacking.

“No...I’m a foster child,” I said, “apparently not one of the cute keepable ones.”

The last comment was an attempt to lighten the mood, but the way that Bob frowned and I couldn’t help but clear my throat awkwardly and stare off behind his head.

“Well that explains that then. So you can talk the talk but can you walk the walk?”

 “Would you like to see?”

 He gave a hearty laugh, “That’s what I like in my employees, a thirst to prove themselves! Off you go then, show me you’re behind the counter skills.”

 So I did. It just so happened that as we exited Bob’s office, the boy was just about to ring a customer’s purchase up on the till. Bob called across the store for him to wait, and I walked behind the counter, took the book from the elderly lady.

 I had used that computer system before, so I quickly scanned the barcode on the back of the book, checked the price on the sticker against the one on the computer and found it matched. I told the elderly lady the price, and she spent five minutes digging through her purse for her credit card, she talked aimlessly whilst she was doing so, telling me about how she was buying this book for her granddaughter who was overweight. How she had heard on the radio that it was a good one. All I had to do was give a few encouraging ‘oh?’ and ‘Really?’ which was great, since I wasn’t the best at smalltalk.

    I put through her card, asked if she wanted a bag (yes) and sent her on her way.

    “Well then,” he said, “looks like you’ve got a job.”

    I thanked him and shook his hand. He told me to come back on Friday and sort out the paper work then.

    I left feeling surprised that it was that easy and happy with myself. I found myself standing still on the pavement and debated my options. It was not appealing to go back the Abbott’s when I had only just escaped from there. Surely they wouldn’t know if I delayed a little bit longer, they would think I was still looking for a job...

It was decided within in a few seconds.

It didn’t take long to find a small park which consisted of a couple of empty park benches and a small playground. I took a seat and started reading ‘A Brave New World’.

 The book was difficult to get into, political and scientific and fill or ideas that I didn’t quite grasp. I could see what the boy – Leyton was his name right? – was talking about.  I found my gaze wandering as I began rereading lines. It just so happened that there was a bunch of boys jogging around the park - all wore the same clothes so I was assuming they were some kind of team. I looked up as one of the ones in the lead passed me by. Broad shoulders, wavy blonde hair and a body that made me wonder what he looked like naked. He saw me looking and flashed me a grin, revealing nice teeth for someone our age, with some pleasing dimples on the side as he passed. I couldn’t help but give a small grin myself. I felt mildly embarrassed about being caught out, but in my experience it’s better to pretend you’re not, because then they won’t take advantage of it.

 Watching him run away, perhaps a little straighter then he had been before, I began to think that maybe this town wouldn’t be so bad after all.

    I went to return my attention to my book but something caught my eye in the carpark, and I had to do a double take to attempt to figure out what it was that had given me the urge to look back. Then