Read Online Girl Defective by Simmone Howell - Free Book Online Page A

me.
    â€œDon’t mention it.” Side one ended and then it was so silent that I could hear the migration of dust motes.
    It was a typical Saturday. St. Kilda throbbed, but the Wishing Well was as sedate as a gentleman caller. The sun slanted in the window, highlighting acne pits, shiny pates, and dandruff. Wishing Well customers were mostly old and male and nerdy. They could tell you why Paul McCartney was barefoot on the cover of Abbey Road , but they couldn’t manage basic hygiene. I wondered if Luke had noticed the smell yet. Memories and mildew.
    â€œSo,” I started, “the grand tour.”
    Luke sat up and took his sketchbook from his pocket. He flipped to a clean page, primed a black fine-liner.His props were like Gully’s; they made me soften toward him. I tried to toughen up again.
    â€œHave you ever worked in a record shop?”
    â€œI worked in a pub,” he offered.
    â€œThat’s good. That means you’re used to crazies.”
    â€œYou get crazies here?”
    â€œOh yeah.”
    â€œWhat kind of crazies?”
    â€œLike you might get a customer trying to explain how the alignment of the stars affected the recording process of Rick Wakeman’s The Six Wives of Henry the Eighth . . . . Dad’s rule is this: don’t engage.”
    â€œThat’s a good rule.”
    I pointed to the till. “This is the till, for the purposes of storing money. Behind there is the record file for dupes and raries.” I pulled out five copies of Paul Mauriat’s Blooming Hits . “Dupes.” Then a near-mint On the Beach . “Rarey.”
    Luke nodded. “Dupes and raries.”
    I pointed to the medieval ledger chained to the counter. “This is the Buys Book for the purposes of buying. When someone sells something in, we write it down. We have to take ID in case it turns out to be stolen.”
    I flicked back through the pages. It was all in there: the decline and fall. Looking at the Buys Book depressed me. It was already starting to resemble a relic.
    â€œWe used to buy a lot more, but these days most people put their records online.”
    â€œBut not your dad,” Luke noted.
    â€œHe’s analog. He’s like a caveman. No CDs. Don’t even think about downloads. He’s even scared of karaoke.”
    â€œFair enough,” Luke said. “Karaoke’s pretty terrifying.”
    I laughed, surprised at the joke. Luke smiled properly. It was a shock to see his face break like that. His eyes crinkled, his cheeks bunched, his lips went tight across good, straight teeth. He looked beautiful. For a second I lost my way, and then I found it again. I showed him the stockroom. I showed him the loo. I showed him where the kettle was. I told him I liked my tea black and Dad only drank his when it was cold, and then I sat down and pretended to read Record Collector .
    Luke stayed standing. After a while he cleared his throat.
    I looked up.
    â€œIs there something I should be doing?” he asked.
    â€œThere’s some Windex back there. You can clean the cabinets.”

    I watched Luke work from behind the cover. His brow went smooth as he wiped the glass, but he never really relaxed his shoulders. If I stood over by the window, I could see an edge of Mia on the wall. I wanted to ask Luke about her, but there was no way to do that withoutappearing interested, and I wasn’t quite ready to admit to that. I grabbed some records from the Going Out pile and spent the next half hour fattening the racks. I had this feeling that if I didn’t move, I might start talking, and if I started talking, I wouldn’t be able to control what came out: I dreamed about your sister. I feel like we were friends. Ray said she was a party girl, but Ray’s full of shit. Every time I caught myself trying to sneak a look at Luke, I reminded myself of his interloper status. Yes, he was pretty, but he was in my space.
    Luke looked up.