The Craters in the Moon

Chapter 3

Panic was evident on Gracie's face. My pulse could be heard a mile away. I had no clue what to do until I saw Ethan, as cool as could be, stomping out the cigarette spark and tossing the end beneath a couch cushion.

I looked back at Gracie and she followed suit, fanning away some of the smoke with her palm.

Mrs. Kelder entered the room after a few moments, and we all poised, making an effort to look like the perfect, well-raised children we all knew we weren't. Her head was bald, and her skin was kind of a yellowish pale color.

Gracie's mom had cancer. Liver cancer to be exact. She had been diagnosed a few months back with the worst possible stage five, and to tell the truth, the future looked bleak.

She looked concerned as she said in a weak voice, "Are you guys alright? What's that smell?"

Cigarette smoke was very distinguishable, and I was thinking about what a dumb ass she must be if she couldn't differentiate it, when I remembered: cancer has a way of muddling the senses.

Ethan and I nodded and distributed polite, tight-lipped grins. "It's the oven," he said charmingly, pointing at the square-shaped box on the counter. "We were trying to heat up some pizza, but it burnt. No big deal, though. We'll get something else to eat."

Gracie's mom believed his every word, and even smiled. "Oh, okay, Ethan. Thank you for your honesty." Then she turned to her daughter. "Gracie?"

Gracie just flipped on the television and didn't even acknowledge her. Mrs. Kelder breathed out just loud enough for me to hear, and, with a sad expression on her face, turned around, embarking on the hard and treacherous journey that was Going Back Up The Stairs.

I heard a door softly close, and then I whirled back to Gracie and said, "What's wrong between you and your mom?"

She looked straight ahead and replied with, "Is that your business?"

It sent a hundred little daggers into my gut.

We each sighed simultaneously, and all of a sudden a wave of fatigue rushed over my body. A blinking clock atop of the countertop read 7:02, and I knew that if I wanted to make it to the bookstore before it closed, I'd have to leave momentarily.

"I'm gonna head out," I announced. I arose, swinging my purse over my shoulder. Ethan snapped to attention.

"What? No! You've only been here half an hour."

His blue eyes looked pained, and it occurred to me why Gracie liked him so much.

I forced a giggle to break the awkwardness and said, "Sorry," while I stood up from the sofa. I threw them both one last wave as I let myself out.

Gracie's screen door closed with a bang behind me, and I started my long trek into town.

The sun beat down with a power that could only be found in the dead of June, and I found myself gasping in relief as I stumbled through the doorway of the store labeled in colorful print, Books Galore. Just my cup of tea, and merely entering the shop uplifted my spirits.

It was a big area, but tall, overbearing shelves were all you could see for what seemed like miles. When I was a kid, I'd tried to count all the books, but I gave up after five minutes with the conclusion that there were a gazillion.

There was hardly anyone there, excluding a few employees mugging around and waiting for closing time, so I slipped in discreetly and headed for the section with the V-U's. The smell of aged paper filled the air, and I ran my thumb across one of the cluttered bookshelves, which ran all the way up to the ceiling.

I looked through all the titles, all the authors, yet "The Ubiquity of Desolation" was nowhere to be found. It puzzled me, I knew they had it.

I was beginning to get quite aggravated, when I looked up. The sole bookshelf itself dwarfed me by at least five feet, and lo and behold, I saw the bright purple binding that I recognized as what I wanted.

But the problem was undoubtedly the height. There was no stools to assist me in the daunting task of reaching it, weirdly, and after attempting to stand on my tip-toes and even jumping (which thankfully no one bore witness of), I realized that it just wasn't gonna happen.

I let out a huff, and turned around to trudge to the front desk, thinking about the hopeless case that was my life.

But then I was met with a shock- there, standing behind the wooden table, was a boy, maybe a year or so older than me. I couldn't believe I missed him walking in. Tall build, dark brown hair, the kind of guy that was attractive and at the same time keenly aware of how attractive he was. It suddenly made me overly mindful of my blue eyes and stick straight hair that left much to be desired.

But then the bigger shock- my eyes found his, and I was confused that his gaze was casted, well, a bit south at my chest (or boobs, rather). I felt a jolt of disgust, and tugged my tank top as far up as it would go, even considering slapping the guy when I got close enough as his stares were unfaltering. I continued walking to the desk, overblown with a fair amount of rage at his indecency.