Page 16 of Wish You Were Her

Allegra swallowed down all feelings of doubt. The chances of her only author acquaintance coming to the festival were as likely as her and Jonah becoming friends, but she had to try.

“Pamela H. J. Wilcox won’t come here,” Jonah said quietly, knowing exactly what she was plotting. His heart didn’t even seem to be in the denial, though. “It’s too remote, too small. She doesn’t even do major cons. Why would she come here?”

“Because I’m going to ask her to,” Allegra replied.

She watched Jonah wipe a tiny speck of sleep away from the corner of his eye and grimace. “And that’s all it takes, is it?”

He finally looked at her and they regarded each other, both with the same amount of icy consideration.

“I’ll try,” Allegra finally said, and it was as if there was no one else in the room.

Somehow Jonah Thorne’s principled stance on the festival had touched something in Allegra.

The film business was full of people who were happy to step on their colleagues if it meant more of the spotlight for themselves.

Jonah had, at first, seemed indifferent to Quentin’s presence, but his indignant dismay at the man asking for more money had brought out a better side to him.

“If she were to join the program, we would need confirmation pretty swiftly,” Courtney said gently.

“I’m on it,” Allegra said, doubling down.

“I have complete and utter faith in you, Allegra,” Simon suddenly said.

“Me, too,” her father added, but he was slightly paler. “Uh, Courtney, why don’t we head to the tourist board for a debrief. The kids can manage the shop.”

“I can help,” Jonah said, and Allegra saw in his eyes something boyishly unsure and nervous.

“No,” George said curtly. “Thanks.”

[email protected]

to: [email protected]

RE: Not Myself

Dear Friend,

Have you ever watched yourself from above, like a helicopter pilot flying over a war zone?

I mean, as though the real you is high above and all the stupid parts of you are down below.

You watch your ego and your pride say completely inane things to decent people, and you’re screaming down from the ladder, “please stop” but they don’t.

I mean, you don’t. You have to watch yourself botch a social situation so badly, you don’t think you deserve saving.

I’m sure this is a completely foreign situation to you, but it’s been happening to me a lot lately.

Anyway. The festival seems to be in a bit of a shambles, but I’m still hopeful that you’ll come. And that we can actually meet.

Wish you were here.

Yours,

Sad Bookseller

Allegra reread the email during her break, which she spent on the shopfloor in the tiny romance section.

She smiled at the remorseful words and glanced over at Simon, who was reading the blurb of a political non-fiction hardback.

She was relieved to read that he was perturbed at the two versions of himself, because she felt the same.

A loud thud made her glance over at Jonah.

He was ripping up boxes for recycling and scowling as he did so.

His profile was guarded and cross, every inch of him warning people to stay away.

Yet Allegra found herself remembering the compliment he had reluctantly given her during the game at Simon’s house.

She wondered what emails from Jonah might look like. He would occasionally leave notes on the front desk of the shop, in serial killer handwriting, and they bore none of the wit and warmth of the emails. They made Allegra wonder about what went on under the water of him.

He was stubborn and always in a bad mood, but there were flashes of real character from him, the kind that Allegra couldn’t stop thinking about.

He was principled and honest. He would never showcase books that were ideologically lazy or too in favor of the status quo.

He said what he thought. He was gentle with people who were intimidated by bookshops, and funny sometimes with the children who came in.

She slid her phone away, deciding to answer Simon’s latest email later, and re-joined the others in the main part of the shop.

“So,” Simon addressed her with a familiar smile as she approached the other two booksellers. “How are you finding summer in Lake Pristine?”

Allegra had to laugh. From people arguing in the line for ice cream to the floral garlands that were draped all over town, it was a wonderful departure. “Love it. It’s everything I’ve heard it would be.”

“You know we once ran a tattooist out of town because they wanted to open up a studio,” Simon said. “I say ‘we,’ it was the elders. But I got one anyway, look!”

He rolled up his sleeve to show a small blotch of black ink.

“What is it?” asked Allegra, laughing.

“It was meant to be a rain cloud but my dad caught me under the needle and stopped the whole thing, so now it’s just a blob. My family were mad but I remain one of the few tattooed individuals in town. They like it twee here.”

“They certainly do,” muttered Jonah, breaking apart another cardboard box.

“There’s only one bar in town, hence why the arcade has become such a hellmouth,” Simon added. “But the Arthouse is nice. And sometimes we drive into Mapesbury, the neighboring town. It’s still pretty small but it’s the twenty-first century there. We were going to go tonight, actually.”

“Who’s ‘we’? The town elders?”

“Me, Lucien, Skye—”

“I’ll catch a ride with Grace and Kerrie,” Allegra said confidently. If they had not already been invited, they would be now. “What’s the plan?”

Mapesbury was not quite the bright lights of Paris nor the rainy chicness of London.

It certainly wasn’t the clinical mousetrap that was Los Angeles.

It wasn’t a city, but a slightly bigger town west of Lake Pristine.

What was clear about Mapesbury was the fact that her new friends in Lake Pristine found it to be all the freedom that they needed from small-town life.

“Things stay open past six,” Grace said to Allegra, as they all made their way toward a laidback-seeming bar. “Bliss!”

Once they were all inside, Lucien and Simon started seeing who could down a pint the fastest. Skye had elected not to come.

Allegra was looking at the mocktail menu with Kerrie when she felt the—unfortunately very common—feeling of being watched.

She glanced up and smiled uncomfortably at the two men in their twenties who were standing over their small bar table.

“Allegra Brooks!”

It wasn’t a question. The man on the right had announced her name so loudly, a few of the staff behind the bar and a couple of waiters turned to watch.

Allegra wondered if she should try her occasionally useful trick of pretending that she was just a good lookalike. But before she could make a decision, Kerrie happily said, “Yes! It’s really her!”

Her sweet face quickly fell when Grace and Simon elbowed her from either side, but it was too late.

“Can you record something for my brother? You’re on his list,” one of the men said, squeezing next to Allegra and opening his phone to take a picture without asking.

“List?” Allegra murmured.

“Of people he’s allowed to sleep with apart from Lisa. That’s his wife.”

“Oh. I—”

“She’s eighteen,” Simon said with a tone of disgust. “That’s vile.”

“Say something from the show!” the man persisted, his mouth far too close to her ear.

“I’m actually just here for a bit of a break,” Allegra heard herself say, though in the smallest voice possible.

Suddenly she was seeing herself in the man’s front camera of his phone.

She looked rattled and bewildered and his breath was too pungent.

It was probably nothing an allistic would notice, but Allegra could sense all of the layers to it: onions and pickle, hastily covered up with a barely chewed piece of peppermint gum.

Someone else’s phone flashed, too bright, the music felt too loud and the air had become thinner.

She staggered up on her feet and started to make her way toward the exit.

“Can you just quickly say that line—”

A large hand was suddenly slapping the phone out of the man’s grip. He exclaimed as it shot gracelessly to the floor and the screen cracked. The man’s protestations had no effect on the newcomer, who said: “What the fuck, dude?”

Allegra turned in astonishment to see Jonah Thorne looking disdainfully at the disrespectful fan.

“This is a bar, not a meet-and-greet,” Jonah told the man coldly. “And even if it were, your behavior would be cracked. So, go away.”

“Who the hell are y—?”

Allegra grabbed Jonah by the arm and used him to propel them both out of the bar and into the street outside.

She kept walking until they were in a more secluded place, with the sun barely down and the air still warm.

They found themselves in a far quieter street, behind the bar, where there were cherry blossoms on the cobblestones and fewer people around.

“Thanks,” she exhaled. “You didn’t have to do that.”

Jonah looked her up and down. “You all right?”

“Yes.”

No.

“ Are people always like that? ” he asked, gesturing toward the bar they had just left.

“Oh, well. It’s fine, really. Sometimes people just get…” The excuses Allegra normally made for other people faded away. “Yes. Yes, they are. It’s why I wanted a normal summer. There’s only work and waiting for work in my life. I needed some freedom.”

She pressed herself against the outer brick wall of the bar. Even with her eyes closed, she could feel Jonah examining her.

“I couldn’t do what you do.”

He said it harshly but Allegra was not offended. “Okay.”

“Sorry,” he added. “It just doesn’t seem an easy way to live. But nothing is if you’re… well. That doesn’t matter.”

“What?” She opened her eyes and looked across at him.

He opened his mouth and then closed it again.

“What?” she pressed.

“Well,” he shrugged one shoulder and kicked a piece of glass on the ground with the toe of his boot. “I’m autistic, so nothing is really built for people like me. But your world sounds particularly uninhabitable.”

For a moment, everything went away. “What did you say? You’re autistic?”

He glanced at her. “Well, yeah. Did the sorting system at the shop not give it away?”

“I…” Allegra felt her voice dry up as she stared at him. “I’m…”

“Please don’t say you’re sorry.”

“I would never,” she blurted out. I’m like you. You’re like me.

“Anyway, I’m only saying it because I’m guessing you’re feeling pretty vulnerable right now and it’s apparently good to share with people in situations like this, so they feel less exposed. At least that’s what my terrible ex-therapist used to say.”

Allegra laughed. A light, happy sound.

“Mind you,” Jonah added, oblivious to her inner sandstorm of emotion, “the arts is probably a great place for a fellow autistic to hide. Lots of opportunities for escaping into imagined circumstances, characters, and stuff.”

“You think so?” Allegra said breathlessly. She shook her hands, drawing Jonah’s eyes to them.

He studied her for another long moment before concern started to edge into his face. “You sure you’re all right?”

Allegra had a thousand answers to that question but she settled for the safest. “I’m fine. Thanks again.”

There was silence between them for a moment before Allegra asked, “Do you know any other neurodivergent people in Lake Pristine?”

“Hera, who runs the arcade? She’s ADHD. But we’re definitely part of a small pool.”

“Hera,” Allegra said with a smile in her voice. “Such a great name.”

Jonah nodded. “You like Greek mythology?”

“Dude. Of course. I’d say I was even low-key obsessed when I was fifteen. There were whispers about a full-blown adaptation of The Odyssey and I made a real nuisance of myself trying to get a meeting.”

Jonah laughed. “Did it get made?”

“Nope. Greek mythology is so hard to get right on screen.”

“Yeah, I’ve noticed that.”

“What about you?” she asked him, as they walked side by side and at a slower pace along the backstreet behind the bar. “Did you have a shrine to Persephone in the corner of your room or were you normal?”

He laughed once more. “I definitely hyper fixated when I was younger.”

“Which story?”

“Well, all of them. I found this massive book in Brooks Books when I was twelve. Greek myths for teens. Great illustrations. The minotaur, Medusa, The Iliad . But…”

Allegra didn’t push him. They both remained invisible to the rest of the world as they walked the hidden streets behind the main, bustling town.

“I loved Hephaestus.”

His words surprised her and so she glanced at him. “Really? The blacksmith?”

“Well, yeah,” he shrugged, looking a little defensive. “He—Well. He was the only god with a disability.”

Allegra’s eyes widened in understanding and she felt a sudden piercing stab of vulnerability. “Yes.”

“And he crafted the most amazing things for the Olympians,” Jonah added.

“Even though they cast him out. He made beautiful items they couldn’t go without.

Shoes with wings. I always liked that. The idea that, even though the people around you want to exclude you for what you are, you can be better.

You can rise above. You can do things they can’t do for themselves. ”

Allegra suddenly felt short of breath. “I think we should go back inside.”

A wave of guilt followed her as they both silently went back into the bar, Jonah radiating disappointment at the slight rejection. But she needed the banality of the group. The bland normality of casual conversation and drinking games.

Everything she had just seen in Jonah was far too overwhelming. It raised questions she did not want to answer. It offered an alternative to a comfortable assumption and she didn’t want to look directly at it any longer.