things considered. Dad’s been sort of trying, and even “sort of trying” is a massive effort for him. Like, when I was leaving, he handed me a pack of Pokémon cards and said, “Good luck today.” Positive reinforcement is always thrilling, but I still haven’t worked out if the cards were a nod to the old days, when he would have my nanny give them to me if I did well at school, or if he actually thinks I still like Pokémon. Both scenarios are equally likely, and to be honest, I don’t even know which one I’d prefer.
I slow down about a block away from the comic shop and hop off, flipping my board up into my hand and then strapping it to my backpack. I’m kind of surprised by how sweaty I got, even in this cold March weather. This is not the first impression I want to make. I run my fingers over the watch Gray gave me; I could use a little good luck right now.
Shoving down the hood of my sweatshirt, I start to walk, trying hard not to think about what I’m really doing.
Peak texted me until I fell asleep last night, sending me music clips and keeping me distracted. How shitty it was to have her comforting me when I was freaking out about spying on her own shop is another thing I’m trying not to think about.
As is the fact that Vera is apparently a human lie-detector test obsessed with honesty, which I learned when Peak gave me the play-by-play of their argument about her leaving con prom.
Oh, and don’t forget the fact that I’m starting to really like Peak, and that I’m probably torpedoing that relationship for the faint chance of building one with my father. So yeah, no pressure today or anything. Nope, none at all.
Bells ring when I step in the shop, heavy gold things that dangle over the door. So much for quietly slipping in and observing undetected. Vera—the Vera Flores—pokes her head out of the back room. “Hey, kid, I’ll be with you in just a second.”
“You don’t have to be,” I say, and she crinkles her forehead. “I mean, I’m looking here at stuff. I’m new. I don’t— I’m good. You can do whatever.”
“Hey, Margot?” she says, and I didn’t realize she was holding a phone until just now. “Let me call you back.”
“Oh no you don’t,” I mutter, but she’s already hung up.
“I’m Vera.” She walks toward me, extending her hand. “Welcome to Verona Comics.”
“Ridley.” I return her firm shake with my own limp one, feeling a little bit like the walls are closing in.
pretendpretendpretendpretendpretendthisisfine
“Nice to meet you, Ridley. What can I do for you?”
“I said nothing.” And wow, rude, holy shit, abort, abort, abort. “Sorry, I’m . . . I don’t know. I’m just—I was skating by and I saw your shop, and I just thought I’d stop in. I want to set up a pull list, though, since I’m here.” I reach into my pocket for the piece of paper, wrinkled and soft from my hands worrying it all night, where I copied the list of comics my dad sent.
Vera stifles a smile and takes the paper from my hand. “You were just skating by, huh?”
pretendpretendpretendpretendpretend
She goes behind the desk and turns on her computer. She’s still smirking, and I don’t know why. It’s starting to stress me out more, if that’s even possible.
“Do you always skate around with a list of comics you want to buy in your pocket?”
Oh.
thinkthinkthinkthinkthink
“Yes?”
shitshitshitshitshitshitshit
“You’re my kinda kid, then, Ridley.” She laughs.
Crisis averted? Maybe? I let out a deep breath and run my hand along the long boxes on the table beside me. This is fine. I am fine. I am standing across the room from my comics hero, but this is fine.
Fine, fine, fine.
Oh god, I’m freaking out. I take another deep breath and blow it out. Vera looks up from her computer, and I spin around fast and start flipping through the comics in front of me, trying