As soon as Elvis Purfoy opened the
back door of his grandfather’s book shop in the tiny Maine town of Seaside, at nine
forty-five on a Saturday morning, an impatient rustling coursed along the
shelves and display racks, which principally contained stories of vampires and
werewolves and boy wizards.
The books about werewolves
whimpered pitifully for attention, but Elvis hadn’t time to offer a pat, or a soothing
stroke, or even a “good-boy,” much less repeat his usual promise of a new owner
with a well-stocked fridge. Elvis Purfoy
was sixteen, still dressed as a Goth from the previous night, and he had his
own concerns, mainly a throbbing headache.
As he raised the blind on the street window an irate hissing erupted from
the vampire books, and tiny clicks could be heard as minuscule coffin lids
slammed shut.
“Sorry, fellas,” muttered Elvis.
At the front of the store a pyramid
of books about boy wizards had been erected, with an accompanying glossy
poster, and the brave little heroes seemed pleased to be the focus of
attention. Several made smug flourishes
of their wands as Elvis passed, and Elvis rewarded their effort with a
perfunctory smile, before retrieving the cash drawer from the back room. He
slid the drawer into the register just as a brisk knock sounded on the street
door.
Elvis drew back the dead bolt. A girl stood squarely on the threshold,
looking the shop over. “I suppose you’re swimming in vampires and
werewolves and boy wizards,” she said.
“We’re nearly drowning,” Elvis Purfoy
confirmed.
Every book in Purfoy’s Book
Emporium tingled along its spine, and the tension in the shop could scarcely be
overestimated. In the display-pyramid, a
dozen boy wizards adjusted their glasses, and nervously shifted locks of hair
over unsightly forehead scars. The girl’s
worn book-bag, and the plain leather case for reading glasses poking out of her
breast pocket, and most of all, her total self-possession, all spoke volumes. Here was a Devoted Reader, clearly the sort of
Reader who returned again and again, and told her friends about her discoveries,
and kept her books on neat shelves in a well-lit room, and frequently reread
them, and kept up on sequels too. The werewolves
began salivating uncontrollably, while Elvis Purfoy beckoned the girl inside.
The new arrival marched past the
pyramid of boy wizards without a glance.
The pyramid tilted toward her retreating figure, and back toward the window
to compensate, and the topmost book quivered, then wobbled, and finally toppled
to the floor.
The girl negotiated the center
aisle without breaking stride. From the
left vampires called in seductive old world accents, while on the right werewolves
frisked excitedly, like pet store puppies.
The girl quickened her pace, as if she knew exactly where she was
heading, and stopped abruptly beside the bin of clearance items. A photo book of old movie stars lay on top,
and a lone encyclopedia with the letters L-M-N.
The girl nudged
the ancient tomes aside and gently extricated the book beneath. The picture of a once-famous girl detective
graced the cover. The girl-detective
regarded the girl- customer with a keen expression, taking in the determined
set of her mouth, and deadpanned, “Are you serious?”
“Is there a serious mystery
involved?” the girl-customer shot back.
The girl-detective surveyed her appraisingly,
then seemed to go with a hunch. “I’ll
just grab my notebook and magnifying glass,” she replied.
When the girl reached the register
Elvis Purfoy made a half-hearted attempt at dissuasion.
“Are you certain you wouldn’t like
to check out the vampires?” he asked. “They’re quite popular as imaginary
boyfriends.”
The girl didn’t seem to believe
this merited a response. She nodded
toward the rack of chewing gum behind the register. “I’ll take a Juicy Fruit, please.”
A moment later the street door
closed with a jangle of brass bells as the girl departed. Along
the center aisle the pitiful caterwauling of werewolves broke out. Two of the vampire novels began to smolder,
and total conflagration was prevented only because Elvis raced to douse them
with a soda.
The most dramatic disappointment
manifested in the pyramid of boy wizards.
When Elvis Purfoy replaced the book that had first quivered, then
wobbled and toppled, he noticed that all the boy wizards on the bottom tier had
apparated out.
The book titles now read: Hermione Granger and….
****
Author Bio:
Dan Spanton lived in Colombia for five years, teaching English in Bogota, Cali, and Medellin. He now resides in Maine where he's been a clamdigger, sail maker, and restaurant cook.
Dan Spanton lived in Colombia for five years, teaching English in Bogota, Cali, and Medellin. He now resides in Maine where he's been a clamdigger, sail maker, and restaurant cook.
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