Books & Novels

Chapter One - Starbucks Coffee

Andrea lifted the mug in her hand. The coffee warmed her up, but she knew that sooner or later she'd have to go out to shovel the drive of snow. But she still felt grateful for the Starbucks across the street. How she'd survive without it, she hoped she would never know. After all, her dad's definition of coffee included decaf insta-stuff, that was much too bitter and not nutty enough to be coffee.

"Where was I?" She asked herself, flipping through her book - bag, trying to squeeze out the Perks of Being a Wallflower from between the Host and the Giver, then realized it wasn't the Perks of Being of a Wallflower she was grabbing at, it was really the Hobbit. No, she didn't feel like fantasy today. Andrea reached her hand in and pulled out Blood Red Road. Oh, well, she'd be content with that.

Just as Andrea got lost in the plot of Saba's world, someone interrupted it like a knife. "That's a good lot of books you got there."

Andrea sighed in quick response, realizing that her books had spilled out from her bag and onto the chair at her cafe table.

"Yeah," Andrea replied. "Yeah, I guess. Not as many as Lucy has - but thank you."

"It wasn't a compliment. Just a comment. "

Andrea looked up as the speaker walked away. It was those type of light comments that made her ticked off- and insanely curious. What did they mean by that? Why did they think that? Why did they say that?

"Um, excuse me," Andrea winced at the sound of her voice (why did it have to sound like it belonged to a ten-year-old? She was fifteen!) as she called after the stranger. "What did you mean by that?"

The stranger turned around. "You really shouldn't be so nosy. It's not an attractive trait." The stranger's eyes betrayed a patronizing glare.

Andrea looked exasperatedly at the ceiling. God, god, god, oh god, why did she have that superpower to be able to go around embarrassing herself?

She looked at her coffee mug and no longer felt the need to drink the rest of the beverage. Then the stranger came back. "I don't know why you're here. You're too young to be out in the community by yourself. Where are your parents? Your father? Your mother?"

"You shouldn't be so nosy. It's not an attractive trait." Andrea shot back the stranger's own words. Why, why, why was this stranger like a stalker. Andrea watched the stranger's back as they walked away for what would be hopefully the last time. Then she let out a tiny slip of a tear.

A bystander would have probably thought the tear was because of the stranger's harsh tone. Someone more close to Andrea would have known about her mother.

Andrea's mother, had died when Andrea was born. Andrea's father was in stressful from then on. He named Andrea after her mother, and then the family-owned bookstore after Andrea's mother. Andrea's grandmother, her mother's mother, had to come live with them to make sure Andrea wouldn't get dropped out a window.

Andrea never accused herself for the death of the mother she didn't know. She always imagined her mother, of course, every time appearing as a different personality. Tough. Wispy. Cheerful. Nerdy. She wondered what her mother would have felt about her. Happy? Proud? Sad? Disappointed?

Andrea would never know.

Heaving a tough breath, Andrea slowly and weakly placed all of her books in uniform position in her book bag. She put her blue coat on numbly and walked out of the Starbucks. She wiped away her tears briskly so they wouldn't freeze on her face. Andrea didn't know if that was even possible, but she felt no need for a science expirement.

The owl-faced mittens were heavy and loose on her hands when she got outside, so Andrea tugged her mittens off and waited until the traffic light turned red for traffic to cross. All this time, Andrea kept her head down and hidden behing a curtain of dark curls.

When she opened the door to the book shop, Babushka looked at her, probably expecting a customer and let out a bit of controlled suprise in her voice when she spoke. "Moy rebenok, what are you doing here? You weren't due for another twenty minutes, malenʹkaya devochka, and yet you are still here. Why are you so early?"

Andrea breathed out, slowly. Babushka was a patient old woman, but also a strict old woman. Everything that happened had to be on schedule. Her very bun of gray hair seemed to be the exact same shape every day, and her face always betrayed emotion.Plus, since she didn't start speaking English until she was forty-five, Babushka had a irritating habit of always mixing in Russian when she spoke. On top of that, she still treated Andrea like she was nine.

Andrea remembered the time she asked Babushka to stop calling her 'my child' or 'little girl'. Babushka replied with, "You are a little girl until you are eighteen and legally and adult. You can wait until then."

"Babushka, I got bored." Andrea lied. Babushka would have a hissy fit if she knew what would have happened at Starbucks. And the hissy fit would totally mess up Babushka's schedule, meaning Andrea would get in trouble for causing the hissy fit.

"You were bored, with all those books?" Babushka pointed an accusing finger at Andrea's book bag like it had started to steal stuff. Andrea looked at the plain brown book bag, sitting there against her waist, as if saying , What did I do?

"I read them all." Andrea lied again.

"Perhaps you'd like to clean your room."

"No, not really," Andrea voice sounded as if she were skidding on ice.

"Help me in the bookshop?"

"Uh....not my shift?"

"Milord, you are being ridiculous. A shift with your Babushka will not be like murder."

"Ok, Babushka." Andrea agreed unwillingly, shoving her hands into her jeans pocket.

"What do you have in your pocket?" Babushka asked, aroused by the movement.

"Um.." Andrea pulled out a granola bar wrapper and a nickel. "A wrapper and some money."

Babushka deflated a bit. "Oh, well, then, do not keep any secrets from me, I will be very mad and tell your otets."

Andrea still had no idea what 'otets' meant.

***

"Andrea, check if the book Ms. Ghartier is in the back, will you, malyutka?" Babushka said happily, joyous to have customer in the lonely shop. Andrea quickly agreed. Ms. Ghartier was always sullen and glared. Middle aged and her green eyes that hid behind little round glasses always reminded Andrea of a dragon.

What was Ms. Ghartier wanting to read again? Oh, yeah, A Casual Vacancy. In the new shipments of course, Andrea thought to herself.

Ducking behind a shelf of unopened boxes, and around a pile of old YA books, Andrea began to search for the new shipment section. Then the unmistakable red cover was seen by Andrea at the top of the shelf.

"Seriously?" Andrea grumbled. Being short, she'd have to use the old wooden ladder with wheels on the bottom. Well, the book wasn't going to float down. She'd have to get it, despite the ladder.

Climbing up a wobbly ladder wasn't easy, Andrea discovered. It shook and she clung to it like it was her lifeline. It made her spew out profanity and start to mentally compose her last will and testament. But when she finally reached the top shelf, she grasped the Casual Vacancy and climbed down as nervously as possible.

But as her foot placed on the second to ground rung, the ladder jerked violently to the side, tossing Andrea off. Andrea fell on her back and groaned. At least she hadn't been at the top.

But she was still feeling thankful when the box fell on her stomach. It wasn't very big, or heavy, but made Andrea very angry and nearly yell out a word which would have made even Babushka, probably the least religious person on the planet, scrub out Andrea's mouth with soap.

Opening the box, Andrea saw two things. An old wooden telephone, one with the little dial, and a leather-bound book.

Andrea's stomach dribbled into her feet as she saw the printing on the cover of the book: Andrea Borislava Levkov.

Her mother's name.