The sudden belligerent knocking coming from the other side of his bedroom door caused Franz to look up and glare. He knew she’d enter even if he didn’t say anything, which he usually didn’t.

His twin sister entered with a hand on her hip and gave him a judgmental look, “It’s a nice day outside, are you going to spend all summer inside? What are you even reading? Do you close yourself up in here and look at porn? Oh my Plumbob, are you looking at porn now?” she squealed and made a disgusted face.

He kept glaring at her before looking back down at his Stephen King novel. He had been at ‘band’ practice nearly every day at the Mayor’s estate due to Evelyn Jane’s insistence on perfection, and finally had some time to himself. He just wanted to read.

“Fra-anz, come on, go on a run with me or something. No wonder you are super pale. People will think you are a ghost if you keep so white and quiet. Let’s go!”

He was already exhausted at hearing her words spill out like some leak in a plumping pipe. He grabbed up the book he was currently reading and brushed past his sister wordlessly. If he couldn’t get peace and quiet in his own room, then he was going to find it elsewhere.

There was a coffee shop not too far away from where he lived; he detested the stuff but knew the place had a relaxing atmosphere and was friendly toward readers. He entered and made his way to a comfortable chair, opened his book and picked up where he had left off.

It wasn’t long before movement tugged at his peripheral vision; someone else who had been sitting in the room was staring at him. He glanced up to see a pretty girl next to a pile of her own books; her legs were crossed and she was staring curiously at him. He cleared his throat and pretended to concentrate harder on the words on the page.


“Reading anything good, Franz?”

The hair on his neck prickled, and he took a good look at the girl, realizing that she went to his school. Her name was Atlantis or Alligator, or some other name starting with 'A.' He didn’t keep track.

He gave a slow nod.

“Can I see?”

Usually he would have just ignored her, or pretended she hadn’t said anything but there was something kind of…nice….about someone taking an interest in what he was doing.


He stood, and walked over to her with the cover of the book displayed so she could see. As he did, she leaned back in her seat and played absently with her braid. Alanna, the name bubbled up from the depths of his brain filled with trivial knowledge. She may have been in a few classes with him, but he wouldn’t cared enough to take notice.

“Stephen King! I love that author! My favorite book of his was ‘The Shining.’ I read it when I was younger, and had to sneak it in because my parents wouldn’t have let me otherwise.”

Franz’s indifferent expression shifted ever so slightly into a grin.

She scooted over a bit and indicated for him to share the small sitting space with her. He sat down and opened his book back to the place he was before


“Have you read this one?” he asked. His voice came out soft and deep, a little gravelly from lack of regular use.

“No, not this one,” she shook her head and put her hand over the open page closest to her with a laugh, “No spoilers!”

He closed the book partially, so only he could see the words.

“I’ve been trying to get through the works of Brontë this summer, but I feel like I need a break for something different. Any suggestions?”

He cleared his throat, “What kind of stories do you like?”

“Well I’m actually curious about science fiction,” she mused, “I don’t think I’ve read enough to really appreciate it.”

An odd sensation flickered through Franz at her admission. He usually kept to himself and had little reason to converse but now a feeling emerged, too abstract and foreign to name. He wanted her to know about all the great science fiction books he had read, wanted for her to read them and be as moved and excited by them as he had upon first reading, wanted to share experiences of the books they had read. He wanted to talk to her.


“Asimov is a good start,” he found himself saying, standing and browsing the bookshelves of the coffee shop. He found one Asimov book and pulled it off the shelf. Another two books by Jules Verne and H.G. Wells he added to her pile.

She moved to the floor next to the pile and eagerly opened ‘The Time Machine’ to skim the pages.

“Thank you so much!” she beamed up at him. He grinned slightly and then looked for more novels on the shelves.

After adding a few more books, he sat on the floor across from her and pointed at each book, giving her the synopsis of each and was pleased with how her eyes became bright and even more interested in what he had to say. Was this what it was like to be noticed?

“Which will you want to read first?” he asked.

She looked around at the books displayed on the floor where he had left them, all with the eyes of a kid with so many candy choices and not knowing which to eat first.

She picked up the novel by H.G. Wells, “Probably this one, I like time travel stories.”


“Good choice,” his voice was solid now, being used the most in one afternoon than it had in months. He noticed that time had slowly slipped away; he had meant only to stay an hour at most but now the sun was setting. He stood abruptly, motioning behind him, “I need to get going home but let me know what you think of it.”


“I will. I’m here almost every day,” she started to get up as well, and he held out his hand to offer help for her to stand. She smiled in thanks, took it to stand steadily, and he let go.

“Good,” he said a little too quickly, looked as his feet, then back to her. She had started putting her pile of books back together. He turned to leave but she grabbed his hand and the hairs on his neck stood on end again. He held his breath.

“You forgot your book, here,” he heard her say and felt his novel replace her hand in his.

“Thanks,” he released his voice without looking back at her, feeling that he’d be tempted to stay even longer if he did.