Page 115 of What You Wish For

“Not animated cartoons, though. Not Porky Pig.”

“Close enough. His dad and I want him reading real books.”

As far as I was concerned,anybook was a real book. “So… no comics? No graphic novels? NoArchies?”

She made a disgusted face. “Good Lord, no. His dad doesn’t want him reading kid stuff.”

“You do realize that Clayisa kid?”

Tina glared at me. “Look, my husband went to Princeton—and so did his father, and so did his grandfather. Kent is very concerned with making sure that Clay also goes to Princeton. And from every study he’s seen, reading can really give a kid the competitive edge.” Then she added, “Real reading, we mean.Garfields are not going to cut it.”

Okay. Got it. I mentally added to my to-do list:Find Clay a secret cubby where he can keep hisGarfields.

I glanced up at the wall clock.

Then Tina Buckley said this: “You may have noticed that Clay is… not an athletic child.”

I waited to see where she was heading.

“My husband was a Division One athlete, so you can imagine how disappointed he is about that.”

No, actually. I couldn’t imagine anyone on earth being disappointed in Clay.

“If Clay can’t be an athlete,” Tina went on, “then his academics will have to be extra strong.”

“Aren’t they already?” I asked.

“Kent doesn’t want to take any chances.”

I wanted to stop her right there and beg her not to crush her child’s love of learning—but I could feel she was building to a question, so I waited.

“So I was wondering,” Tina went on, the muscles in her face tight, like she was deeply uncomfortable, “if I might be able to volunteer in the library. So I can be near him. And check in on him. And help him make better choices.”

The easy answer to that was not justno,buthell, no.

The last thing a kid with parents like that needed was his mom hovering over him in here, judging him and shaming him about totally normal kid stuff. This library was supposed to be a safe place where kids could follow their own reading compasses—without grown-ups watching, micromanaging, and judging them.

Seriously. Show me a kid who hates to read, and I’ll show you a kid who got shamed about it, one way or another.

I was here to protect kids from that kind of crazy. But, I just couldn’t bring myself to say no to her in that moment. She must have really wanted it bad to make the ask in the first place. I was the last person on earth she’d want to turn to.

Of course,shewas the last person on earth I’d want inmylibrary.

She couldn’t stand me, that much was always clear. And any hope I’d had that we would’ve closed ranks around Babette after Max died and find ways to stitch back together that empty hole he’d left in each of our lives was long gone. But it was also clear that for some reason—maybe one I didn’t even understand yet—Tina really, really wanted me to say yes.

So I said yes. Of course.

For Max and Babette—and Clay, if not for Tina herself.

“Of course you can,” I said, offering her a smile that was more like a twitch. “You can sign up for shifts on the website.”

There was a good chance that I was going to let her into the library and she’d find some way to burn the place down. Metaphorically. Or maybe even literally. I wouldn’t put it entirely past her.

But there was also a chance that our sunny little library would do for her what it always did for me: make her feel better. Be that little source of joy she so clearly needed. And that might have some kind of butterfly effect on the people around her. And for their sakes—especially since I was one of them—I just felt like I had to take it.

Even though, remember: this woman hadkicked me out of Max’s funeral.

She looked down, like she’d suddenly remembered it, too.

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