Ruining His Summer

Chapter Seven: The Basics of Volunteering

I watched Jack talking to an old lady purchasing a book by Beverly Lewis from one of the chairs by a bookshelf, and he was laughing. And then he tapped on her book, smiled, and then she was off, grinning.

I narrowed my eyes.

Since when did Jack get old lady charm?

Jack never had a touch with older women. He’d get flustered before he would start blurting out random, inappropriate things that made them cringe and search for an excuse to run in the other direction. He certainly never made them freaking grin.

Jack noticed me watching him.

He stared at me for a second, and then he said, exasperated already, “What?”

I shrugged and went back to my Teen Vogue magazine. “Nothing,” I said in a sing-song voice.  

I was waiting for a ride to the community center, where Abe would then drive me and Elsie to the Roberts. I could just killmy probation officer for taking away my driving privileges.

Jack is still staring.

Now I looked up, scowling. “What?” I asked, irritated even though I wasn’t very invested in the article about a new Twilight movie or how girls all over the globe are sobbing over the end of Harry Potter.

He sighed, shaking his head. “Nothing,” he grumbled, and then he looked at the big, grandfather clock by the reading area. “When’s your thing again?”

“My thing,” I said through clenched teeth, my fingers beginning to wrinkle the pages of Teen Vogue, “is at two.”

He just nodded.

I heard the swooshing sound of someone struggling to open the front door and a rush of humidity hits me. It was so hot outside it wasn’t even funny. People out there had sweat stains the size of small melons under their pits.

I glanced over the top of my Teen Vogue and I saw Scarlett walking up to Jack, smiling. “Hey,” she said, and then he nodded toward me, the little sister. She waved at me. “Hey, Silver.”

She gave me the nickname last night when we were eating dinner. I didn’t mind it, not that I would say this though.

“Hey,” I said back.

She smiled before she looked at Jack, propping her elbows up on the counter. “Soooo,” she said, and I prepared myself for the sexual innuendo, “do you think you could get me a discount on Sarah Dessen’s new book?”

My head shot up like she suddenly pulled out a gun and shot him, which would’ve been less surprising by the way. “What?”

She glanced at me. “I asked if I could get a discount?” she asked slowly, glancing at Jack out of the corner of her eye. “Did I say something . . . ?”

“You read Sarah Dessen?” In the back of my mind, I vaguely remembered Jack telling me that they met as she was buying one of her books.

Scarlett nodded. “Of course,” she told me, even cracking a smile. “No one writes YA like Sarah does.”

Jack pointed to Scarlett. “She likes her so much that she spends her dinner money on her books,” he said and she smiled sheepishly, “which I still say is crazy by the way.”  

“Sarah’s books are worth it,” I told him.

“See?” Scarlett gestured to me and looked pointedly at Jack. “Silver understands.”

Jack rolled his eyes playfully, nudging her with his elbow. “Must be a girl thing,” he said. “I’d choose pizza over . . .”

“Sarah,” I filled in.