Page 1 of A Flash of Neon
Bookshops are full of stories, and not just on the pages. The customers tell them too. Sometimes, when I’m helping out in my mums’ shop, I people-watch and get ideas for the novel I want to write one day. I’ll see two strangers sneaking looks at each other over the cookbooks and imagine they’re having their meet-cute moment while I rearrange the shelves. Someone will rush in, red-faced and out of breath, and I’ll pretend they’re a diamond thief who’s decided to hide from the police in our children’s section. I’ve always liked the idea of being part of some big, dramatic scene – even if it is as an unnamed face in the background – of playing a role in someone else’s adventure.
But today my own big story begins.
Today is the day my best friend Neon is due to visit.
I sit behind the till and scroll through his profile on my phone while Mum sorts out a delivery of new books. Dozens of photos glide past: Neon’s smiling, freckled face; his beloved dog, Cauliflower; books he’s read and songs he’s addicted to. The most recent posts are all from his trip to the UK. Last week, he and his mum flew from their home in New York City to London, where his uncle lives. His page is currently full of photos of tourist spots like Buckingham Palace and Big Ben, plus photos of his uncle’s cat and the squirrels in Hyde Park. (Neon loves animals – it’s one of the things we have in common. I can’t have a dog because one of my mums is allergic, but if I could I’d have a bichon frisé like Cauliflower.)
“Laurie?” Mum dumps a stack of hardbacks on to the counter. “How about you actually earn the money we’re paying you instead of staring at your phone all day?”
I glance up from the screen. My mums’ bookshop is called Every Book & Cranny, and for the past year I’ve been helping out here for a few hours at the weekend. As well as the people-watching opportunities, I love organising the window displays and writing recommendation cards after I’ve read a good book.
But today I’m too nervous to think about anything except Neon’s arrival. After London, he’d planned a couple of days in Edinburgh with his mum before travelling up north on his own to see me. His train is due to arrive in Inverness about an hour from now. I try to imagine it: his dark curls bouncing as he steps on to the platform, the way he might tug on the straps of the purple backpack that he takes everywhere as he scans the station.
I still can’t really picture it. Neon is like his name, loud and bright and colourful. He’d stand out a mile in my small Scottish town.
“Sorry.” I put my phone down on the counter. Mum is still glowering at me, so I spin round and tuck it behind the vase of flowers on the windowsill. “I’m back to being employee of the month now. Promise.”
My older brother Joel pokes his head out from behind the non-fiction shelves. “Uh, excuse me.I’memployee of the month.”
“We’ve never picked an employee of the month, but if we did it would obviously be Gio,” Mum says, which is true – Gio is the bookshop manager, and the entire place would probably fall to pieces if he wasn’t there to run the show. “I’m counting on you two to help out while we’re away this week, though. Especially on Gio’s days off.”
Joel moves his hand up and down to gesture at his body. “Hello? I came all the way from St Andrews to do exactly that, even though I have about a million essays to write. But have I had a thank you from Mutti? One singledanke schön? No.”
Mutti, our other mum, is an author. She has a new book coming out on Thursday, and tonight she’s flying down to London for a whole week of interviews and events. Usually she goes alone, but this time Mum is tagging along. She claims it’s to network and provide moral support, but I think she secretly wants a break to wander round galleries and drink overpriced coffee. Joel has come home from university for the week to help Gio out and make sure I don’t burn the house down, or whatever it is my parents think I’d do if I was left alone for a week.
That’s why I thought this would be the perfect time for Neon to visit. My mums are pretty relaxed, but I haven’t told them anything about our friendship. They wouldn’t understand.
“You’re a saint and a martyr, Joel.” Mum ruffles his dark brown hair. “Just don’t leave the door unlocked again and we’ll be fine.”
As Joel protests that he only did thatonetime, the bell on the door tinkles and Mutti shuffles in wearing her favourite fuzzy red cardigan and holding a cup of coffee. ‘Mutti’ is the German word for ‘Mum’. Joel and I call her that because she’s originally from Munich, though she’s lived in Scotland for so long that she’s almost completely lost her accent.
“Morning,” she says, yawning. “Is it still morning?”
“It’s almost midday, so just.” Mum smiles but her words are clipped around the edges. “What time did you go to bed?”
“Three, I think? I fell asleep in the middle of editing.” Mutti edges on to the seat beside me and hugs me with her free arm. Her eyes light up at the stack of hardbacks on the counter. “Ooh, is that the new Ruth Ozeki? I didn’t think we’d get it in until next week.”
While she and Mum are distracted, I slip out from behind the counter with my phone, curl up in the cosy armchair in the children’s section and open Neon’s profile again. Our most recent comments to each other are below a video uploaded this morning, a short compilation of tourist spots around Edinburgh.New favorite city, the caption reads. (Nah,second favorite. Nothing beats NYC.)Now heading north to go see Laurie!
I replied a few minutes after it was posted:So so SO excited!followed by a dozen of the yellow hearts I use only for Neon. His response was a line of purple ones, the colour he saves for me. I wonder how many purple and yellow hearts have been sent between our accounts in the past six months. Probably millions. Usually my phone doesn’t go more than an hour without lighting up with a notification, apart from the seven or eight hours when the East Coast is asleep.
But since that photo there’s been nothing. No new posts, no messages to me. Anyone looking at his profile could tell that’s not like Neon. I bite the corner of my nail and refresh the page, as if that might make something pop up. Still nothing.
The bell on the door tinkles again. Mum looks up hopefully – we’ve only had a handful of customers since we opened two hours ago, and one was just looking for a bathroom. Her shoulders sink slightly when she sees who’s arrived.
“Hi, girls. Laurie? Caitlin and Hannah are here.”
My heart instantly drops at the sound of my friends’ names. I stand up, the phone almost slipping from my hands, and hurry out from behind the shelves. Caitlin and Hannah are wearing matching denim jackets and they both have their hair up in high ponytails. They beam at me and Caitlin bounces on the balls of her feet.
“Today’s the big day!” she says in a sing-song voice. “Are you excited?”
I widen my eyes to tell her to be quiet, then quickly usher her and Hannah outside, letting the door slam behind us. It’s a cold Saturday morning in October, with only a few people wandering down the high street. The shop windows are thin, and Joel is nosy, so I drag Caitlin and Hannah away from the door and towards the Co-op.
“My parents don’t know about Neon, remember?” I hiss.
“Oh, sorry, I forgot!” Caitlin clamps a hand to her forehead, but her smile still stretches right across her face. “I’m just excited for you! Are you nervous?”
“Yeah,” I say, pushing my hair behind my ears. “I mean, a bit.”
