she just hands us pieces of paper with the titles she wants added and practically runs from the shop when we give them to her. It’s just part of working here. Besides, I’m not exactly the poster child for being a well-adjusted social butterfly either. If I were, then maybe I wouldn’t have essentially been assigned “live a little” as a homework assignment.
I lean over the counter so I’m closer to Mr. Glaring-at-DuckTales—but not too close—and clear my throat. “Hey, if you’re looking for Vera, she’ll be back in a few. She just had to do a delivery.”
He finally looks up at me and then nearly knocks over a stack of comics sitting on top of the dollar bin. I had been meaning to bag and board them—no point now. He scrambles to catch them, crinkling some covers in the process. Better than the new releases, but still.
“Help,” he says, and I tilt my head as the blush creeps up his neck. “I mean, can I help you?”
“Uh, I think that’s supposed to be my line, right? Since I’m the one who works here?”
“Right.” He smooths the cover of one of the comics. “I can pay for these.”
“It’s fine.” I wave him off. “We end up donating half of them to the children’s hospital anyway. It’s not a big deal if they’re a little bit wrinkled on the corners.”
“Oh.”
“I’m Jubilee,” I say, trying to look friendly because this guy looks like he’s about to lose it. “You’re the new str—Ridley, right?”
His eyes widen in response, and for half a second, I swear I know him. He must have one of those faces.
“How . . . ?”
“Vera said you’d be in to pick up your books. I’ve got a few holds over here whenever you’re ready, but if you need anything else, let me know.”
He scratches the back of his neck and does this half-cough thing, like he’s got something stuck in his throat. “Thanks.” I catch him grimace as he turns to the rack in front of him.
“There are other racks, you know, unless you’re super into talking ducks,” I tease, smirking at the way his ears pink up.
“Yeah,” he says, moving on to stare at the actual new-release wall instead.
I pull out his holds, checking to make sure they’re all there. I glance over when I see him pick up a comic. It’s not one on his list, but it is one of my favorites. He flips through, looking at it like he wants to marry it, and then slides it back into the rack with a frown.
“That’s a good one,” I say. “And you’re at a great jumping-on point. They’re coming back from hiatus, and the first volume just came out. You grab that and the one in your hand, and you’re all caught up.”
“I have all of them except this one. I’ve been reading it from the start.”
I crinkle my forehead, flipping through his books in front of me. “Oh really? Is it supposed to be in your pile?”
“No.” He shakes his head. “I can’t—I don’t have—it’s a thing.”
I pull back, surprised. “Your parents monitor your pull list or something?”
He looks down, and holy shit, if there’s one thing I hate most in this world, it’s parents policing content. I can’t help but notice that it’s the very queer comic that they don’t let him have; meanwhile, his pull list is loaded up with all the violent ones. Typical.
“That’s so wrong.” I come from behind the counter and pull the comic out of the rack. “Here, it’s yours.”
“I can’t.”
“Seriously, I read it on break earlier. I’ll just replace it with my copy. It’s fine.” I push it closer until he takes it.
“Thanks.” The corner of his lips turns up, and I feel a little swell of pride.
His eyes catch on my Green Lantern ring, sterling silver with an actual emerald in it. A gift from my mom on my sixteenth birthday. I’m about to show it to him when he opens his mouth.
“Did your boyfriend give