Warm hoodies on cold nights (and all the stars in your eyes)

Chapter 9

Wilbur goes out the next day after school, and wanders through town for a while, until he finds a small advert in a small music shop window, pretty close to the Café Schlatt's gonna start work at next week.

"Hi," he says politely to the guy at the desk. "I saw an advert for a part time job – is that still?"

"Yes, yes, for sure," the guy says eagerly. "You still a student?"

"Mhm. But I'll be looking for work over summer, too."

"Of course, of course – Marge," he yells, and a homely looking woman appears from the back of the shop. "This lad's interested in the job!"

"Hi," Wilbur says, awkwardly raising a hand.

"Oh, great," Marge smiles. "That's John, by the way – he's going on paternity leave so we were looking for a new part-timer to help out with the evening shifts. Come in, we can talk and you can drop me your email. You're free for a chat, aren't you? You won't have to send your CV in if you are."

"Yeah, yeah," Wilbur nods, following her into the back room.

"Now, we've had a couple of applicants," she says sternly, shuffling through some papers. "So it's likely you won't get the job – but we'll be picking by the end of this week, so you're lucky! So, why are you wanting the job?"

"Saving money for uni, or an apartment, whatever I decide to do," Wilbur shrugs. "But it also looks like a really cool shop – I haven't been here before – but I love music."

"Play any instruments?"

"A bit of guitar. I write songs sometimes."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Mhm. It's fun, I like messing around with music."

"That's lovely," she smiles. "So you know a bit about instruments?"

Wilbur thinks. "Yeah, I'd say so. My little brother plays the violin and the trumpet, so I know a bit about those, too. And I'd be happy to learn anything I'd need to learn, I get I'm not a pro in any of this." He laughs nervously, rubbing at his hand, but the woman has quite a comforting presence. "I mean, I'd love to try. And I also should get something to work on, I mean, beats sitting at home trying to write songs and failing."

"Probably," she laughs. "Yeah, we're quite relaxed here, but it's definitely enough to get one out of the house."

"Yeah, that's mainly why I'm doing it, I think. Looking for something to keep me occupied while, y'know, meaning I'll be able to eat come next year."

"Sounds good, sounds good," Marge smiles. "Here, write your email – or phone number – down here and I'll get back to you as soon as we can."

"Sure! Sure, thank you so much for seeing me."

"No problem," she smiles, as Wilbur scribbles down his email as legibly as possible.

"Wil?" Schlatt's voice echoes from the front. "Wilbur?"

"Uh – yeah, uh, sorry," Wilbur winces, and pokes his head out of the room. "Schlatt?"

"I'm on break," Schlatt grins. "Saw you coming – oh, were you talking to Marge?"

"You know her?"

"I've shopped here before," Schlatt yawns. "Oh – you applying for the job? Marge, Marge, Wil has my full recommendation, look at him, he's a good worker, he'll do anything you ask, he's handsome so everyone will want to shop – what more could you want?"

"Christ, Schlatt, stop embarrassing me," Wilbur mutters, but he finds himself laughing, and Marge shakes her head with a soft laugh.

"Honestly, Schlatt," she says, as if she's trying to be disapproving. "You can't just walk in and hire my workers for me."