The Literary Misadventures of Juniper Rosewood

20- An Egotistical Jerk

"How many?" Dalton asked, "Because I have like, seven hundred." He was very enthusiastic at the prospect of being able to recommend a book to me, and he looked positively childlike with excitement, bouncing about the room as though he was on a pogo stick.

"One," I said.

"Oh that's not okay, pick another number," He said.

"I can only afford to get one more, aside from the ones I've already decided on," I said, and he frowned.

"Well, you've really put me on the spot now, Rosie," He said, his chin resting in his hands as he looked to the sky as if the perfect book would suddenly drop from the air. He grabbed my hand suddenly and pulled me out into the main shop, and I followed him, although I didn't have much choice in the matter.

"Sit there." He pointed to a little alcove on the windowsill, outfitted with worn red cushions and surrounded by stacks of books. I did as Dalton said, mainly because he was like an enthusiastic child, and while it was adorable, it was also rather terrifying. He bounced to the front of the shop and had a hurried discussion with his parents, who were standing behind the counter. I could see their faces through a gap in the shelves, and they looked at each other with knowing eyes and smiles as soon as Dalton had hopped away again in search of a book. I wondered what he had said to them.

I sat on the windowsill feeling a little bewildered until Dalton returned from his literary misadventure with a stack of books in his arms. He put them next to the pile of books that I had already chosen, and then raced off again. I rolled my eyes, but I was smiling. In the back of my mind somewhere, I was beginning to realise that Abraham was right.

He brought back another stack of books and set it down next to me.

"What's going on, Jamie?" I asked, and he smiled.

"Okay, so I may have called in a little favour. There is a special offer on, and you better be quick, because it only lasts for the next ten minutes," He said, his eyes big and doleful.

"What's the special offer?" I asked, grinning giddily.

"Two stacks," He gestured at the three stacks of books in front of us, "For the price of one. All you have to do is pick two of the stacks."

"You did this for me?"

"Of course I did," He said, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world, "And you can't refuse, either, because I know deep down that you don't want to."

"Alright, although I hope you understand that this is a very ineffective business model," I said, since I was never, ever going to turn down the chance to get free books. "Is there any rhyme or reason to the stacks?"

"Well, we've got the stack you picked, which you should probably get," Dalton explained, sounding not unlike a car salesman trying to make a pitch, "And this baby—" He pointed to the stack in the middle "—can fit all of your feminist literature in it. Your favourite book is Little Women, I tried to go for things in a similar vein. There's a story in here about lesbian suffragettes, and the Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya sisterhood, and a classic by Virginia Woolf that I didn't see on your bookshelves."

"And what about the other stack?" I asked excitedly. Dalton, as ever, continued to surprise me, and my stomach fluttered as he talked.

"This is the fantasy stack. Some magical detectives solve their estranged uncle's murder, and a sorceress at the head of a magical civil war falls in love with her sworn enemy, and a girl goes on adventures with a dragon made of glass," Dalton said.

"Well, you've made it incredibly hard to choose," I said.

"I know," Dalton smirked.

"But since there are dragons and fantasy in my other stack, I'm going to have to pick the feminist stack," I said.