James Mandarin

Sally & Dickens

I wave goodbye to Chloe when the final bell rings. She smiles and walks away, holding her textbooks in the crook of her arm. She'll probably head off to the beach and watch the waves, or sit by her bedroom window, with her journal on her lap, writing works of art I shall never see.

There's a way her hair shines in the light like white gold. It's beautiful, mesmerising. I think of it as the gold created when Rumpelstiltskin spun the dirty wool into gold for the poor man's daughter.

I make my way through the crowd of people dressed in peached uniform on my way to my locker. I take my bag and carefully place my books inside it. I don't want it to get crumpled or break apart. I gently swing my bag over my shoulder, making sure to be aware of my wrist. I wish I brought my bike to school as I begin walking home in the relentless heat. My back aches as sweat forms underneath my shirt and my calves burn from walking up the hill. I think I deserve a medal for this.

No one's at home and for that, I am grateful. I quickly change into my work uniform and converse before heading out of the door. The public bus comes to the bus stop near Middle Loop and I enter, paying sixty cents for my fare. I sit at the back, next to the window away from prying eyes. From my spot, I watch teen couples hold hands and sweet talk one another. Children play their video games and old women look out of the window longingly. It's a mundane existence, just like mine.

Fifteen minutes later I arrive in the middle of town and walk past the traffic lights to the bookshop near the petrol station. Sally & Dickens, it's called. It's a small building with blue walls and pearl roof. The bell on top of the door gently rings as I enter the shop.

Bookshelves line the room in sections ranging from adult to children's books. Fiction books are located on the right, and nonfiction, on the left. New releases such as Fever and Insurgent, grace the front of the store, begging onlookers to purchase them. The front desk is situated next to the children's books and some beginners' art books. I look at the antique clock on the wall. It's four o'clock.

Ben, my boss comes out from the back room and says hi before handing me a pile of books to stock on the shelves. From what I can see it's one of those fantasy books aimed at girls. Too many people try to be like Stephanie Meyer. It's hard to find books aimed at boys when there's so many girl craps around. It got so bad I had to pick up a book about six girls in a boarding school to read when I got bored.

As I am stacking the books, Hollie enters the shop. She doesn't smile and say hi. Instead, she walks past with half-lidded eyes, holding a bottle of peach and honey flavoured ice tea. Her hair is like fire and her fringe falls across her face giving her a dangerous stance. Her body leans forward as she drags her feet across the carpet. She takes her place behind the counter, checking her uniform for any stains.

Hollie is different, and I like that. She's quiet, interesting. She's like an adventure waiting to be found and always leaves me wanting more. There's a way she drums her fingers on the table and sighs, wondering why her work life is so crap, and I don't blame her.

"Hello," I say as I make my way towards her.

"Hi James." Her voice is deep and dull, and her words drag out like a piece of string, as though forced from her vocal chords. "How are you today?"

"I'm fine thank you," I reply, watching as she unscrews the iced tea lid and takes a large gulp from it. She throws her head back and sighs with relief as she comes alive once again.

"Well, that's good." She flashes a smile and then scrunches up her face.

"What did you get up to, today?"

Her eyes light up like the lights on a Christmas tree. "I watched some anime today. It was amazing! Like, it was fucking epic!"

I stand there, in front of the counter, patiently listening as she talks about the cartoons she watched during the day and the new Sims game she bought from saving up her meagre pay.

We break apart when the door opens and a customer walks in. "I'm looking for Twilight," she says.

The book should be classified as Girl Porn.