The Bookshop Of Yesterdays - Amy Meyerson

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of Green Gables, Mary Lennox and, more recently, Kristy, Claudia, Stacey and their friends in the baby-sitters club.

      A male voice that wasn’t my uncle’s answered the phone. Prospero Books, where books are prized above dukedom.

      It was probably the manager, Lee, but I didn’t want to get into a whole conversation with him about how he couldn’t believe that I still hadn’t read Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret.

      Is Billy there?

      I think he’s at the lab. He’s planning to stop by on Sunday. Can I take a message?

      I hung up before Lee realized it was me.

      Sunday was still five days away. I couldn’t wait that long, so I tried Billy’s house again that night, once Mom had gone to bed and Dad was in the living room watching the nightly news. Billy? It’s your favorite girl, I said pathetically into his machine. Are you getting my messages? I really need to talk to you.

      After a few more messages, I started to panic.

      I tried to keep the dog, I pleaded into his machine. You have to believe me. I did everything I could. You know Mom. You know how she is. Please don’t be mad at me. Just call me back. He didn’t return my calls, and by the weekend, I knew calling him again was pointless. Billy’s silence spoke louder than words. He wouldn’t be coming over for Sunday barbecues, not any time soon. He wouldn’t be picking me up for any more adventures.

      I decided I needed to see him in person. He couldn’t look me in the eye and banish me from his life. I knew where he was going to be on Sunday. I knew I could find him at Prospero Books.

      * * *

      Joanie helped me plot the route across the city. Silver Lake may as well have been San Francisco, it took so many freeways to get there. The bus took the residential route, Santa Monica Boulevard all the way until it ended at Sunset Junction. No transfers necessary. If everything went smoothly, it would take an hour and a half.

      I told Mom I was staying at Joanie’s where the supervision consisted of her teenage sisters sequestered in their rooms. I’d gone there enough times without anything terrible happening that Mom had stopped calling Joanie’s mother to make sure she was home.

      Before I mounted the bus steps, Joanie smothered me in a hug. You’re sure you’ll be okay? Remember, when the bus passes Vermont, you have two more stops.

      Thanks, Mom, I said sarcastically, and she stuck her tongue out at me.

      The bus wasn’t as crowded as I’d expected. I found an empty row and sat by the window. Traffic was slow along Santa Monica Boulevard as we passed Beverly Hills into West Hollywood and the grimier blocks of Hollywood. At Hyperion, I got off the bus and headed toward the sign at Sunset Junction, pretending I was the daughter of an artist or musician, the type of kid who grew up in Silver Lake. Prospero stood tall on the sign above the bookstore, staff in his right hand, a book in his left, purple cape and white hair windblown behind him. I stopped outside the storefront, looking through the picture window filled with books. Jitters rose in my stomach, same as every time I saw the store’s lime-green walls. I had a relationship to this space that no one else had, even if they came here every week, every day. Billy didn’t tell anyone else to pick a book, any book, free of charge, as though the books were waiting just for them. I threw open the door, certain I would see Billy and everything would be fine.

      Prospero Books wasn’t a large store, but with high ceilings and well-spaced shelves, it seemed vast, even spacious. It had a unique smell, different from Billy’s home in Pasadena, unlike any other bookstore. The earthiness of freshly cut paper mixed with the white musk perfume of the pretty girls who frequented the store and a trace of coffee that was almost floral.

      Miranda? Lee said when he noticed me by the door. What a nice surprise. Is Billy with you?

      I thought he was here. I didn’t see Billy’s leather satchel beneath the desk chair or his mug with the San Andreas Fault marking California like a scar on one of the tables in the café.

      I could feel Lee watching me. I didn’t meet his eye because I already knew what he was going to say.

      I’m sure he’s on his way, Lee said. Let me go call him.

      Lee told the woman working in the café to get me whatever I wanted. She winked as she handed me an enormous chocolate chip cookie, like it was some sort of secret between us. I took the cookie to a table in the far corner and watched Lee behind the front desk, talking on the telephone. He glanced up and found me watching him, a conflicted look contorting his face.

      Billy can’t come in today, he said when he sat down at my table. He told me to call your mother. She’s on her way.

      You called my mom? The lies raced through my brain. I wanted to pick up the latest Baby-Sitters Club. Dad said I could come. They were transparent lies that would only make Mom angrier. I’d told her I was at Joanie’s, then taken the bus to Silver Lake when I wasn’t even allowed to take the bus within our neighborhood. I’d gone to see my uncle even though I knew they were in a fight. I’d totally and completely disobeyed her. I was beyond dead. Grounded for eternity. But that wasn’t the worst of it. What truly wrecked me was that Billy didn’t want to see me. I fought back tears. I was twelve, which was almost a teenager, which was almost an adult. I was too old to cry.

      Hey now, Lee said when he noticed I was crying. What do you say you and me pick out a book? Would you like that?

      Okay, I said even though I didn’t want to pick a book, any book, not with Lee. I followed him to the teen fiction section where the spines were bright, the titles blurred from my tears. Lee showed me a few thrillers—R. L. Stine and Christopher Pike, not the type of books he normally tried to get me to read. I shook my head at every offer. I had thought that by the time I graduated high school I would have read every book in Prospero Books. Now I didn’t want to read any of them ever again.

      Lee had to ring up a customer, so I returned to my chocolate chip cookie, no book in hand. I broke the cookie into pieces, then I broke the pieces into pieces, too upset to eat.

      The tables around me emptied and repopulated. Lee remained behind the front desk. Every once in a while, he stood and checked the café to make sure I was still there. The sky began to darken and I started to worry Mom was so mad she’d decided not to get me.

      What felt like hours later, the bell on the door chimed. I looked up to find Mom scanning the crowded tables. Relief washed over her face as she spotted me. When our eyes locked, I forgot I was mad at her and ran into her arms. I took in her warmth, the sweet lilac smell of her skin, feeling like a child and not caring who saw.

      I’m so sorry.

      She kissed my forehead. I’m just glad you’re okay.

      I understood then that my plan had been doomed from the start. Even if Billy had been at Prospero Books, he’d made his choice not to call me back. Here I was blaming Mom when she was the one to come to my rescue, not Billy.

      * * *

      Along the I-10, I could tell Mom wanted to tell me all the ways I’d been stupid, how Silver Lake was dangerous and something could have gone terribly wrong. Instead, she asked, What were you hoping would happen if Billy was there? She didn’t sound mad, simply curious.

      I don’t know, I admitted. I want you guys to make up.

      It’s not always that easy with adults.

      Why not?

      Mom’s hands gripped the steering wheel. Billy and I have a complicated relationship.

      What are you talking about? What happened when I saw you guys fighting?

      Her face softened as she turned her attention away from the road toward me. It’s too difficult to explain.

      Will you try? I held my breath. This was Mom’s chance to tell me her side of their fight. I was willing to believe anything she said about Billy, no matter how terrible.

      Mom’s eyes narrowed as if she

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