My moms used to scold me about it sometimes, but they also encouraged my creative side.You can daydream all you want, just make sure you spend some time down on earth with the rest of us, too. I heard that advice so many times in my childhood, it felt burnt into my mind.
I think I started truly floating off into the clouds around the time I started junior high. My moms lived off in the woods in rural Washington, on a gorgeous piece of land with rolling hills and bubbling streams. It was only a couple hours’ drive from Seattle, but it felt like a whole different world. My mom Aliya had given birth to me, and she bought the land when my father was still with us. Her family had immigrated from Turkey around the time she was born, and they were great. They loved me and my mom Sandra. Before I was born, however, my birth father’s family had already rejected Aliya, angry that my father hadn’t married another Jewish person. When my father passed from a heart attack, my mom spent some time out at the land recovering and mourning with her best friend Sandra supporting her. By the time I was a couple of years old, Sandra and Aliya realized they were in love with each other, and they made that land our family home.
The place where I was raised was pure magic, and my moms gave me all the space I needed to be myself and explore my interests. When I started going to public school in junior high, however, I found that the other kids and the teachers weren’t quite so supportive of my quirky habits and weird interests. Instead of trying to fit in, I just floated further away, retreating into the happy life I had at home, the comics I had started collecting, and my passion for drawing.
Maybe I did get a little stuck on the fantasies in my head. Who could blame me? It was a hell of a lot better than conforming and acting like every other boring jock from school, and my moms had taught me from a young age how important it was to be myself.
I drummed my fingers on the counter. “I’m telling you guys, this is not another Michael B. Jordan situation. Brick is the real deal. Case in point, I actually talked to him. But we don’t need to argue about it now. Just give him a chance to catch the guys who are messing with us, okay? It’s not like we have a better plan.”
Clark frowned. “I just wish Mr. Katz would take care of the problem. He should really be paying for the extra security, not us.”
“Mr. Katz is dealing with a family emergency, whatever that means,” Liza pointed out, pushing a strand of hair out of her face. “He probably would pay for it, but I don’t think we need to disturb him. At least not yet.”
I picked up a twenty-sided die from a little display, rolling it across the counter distractedly. “I’m not complaining. It means we get to do whatever we want with the store, more or less. So what if we have to deal with some pesky teenagers on our own? We get to play whatever music we want, organize whatever nerdy events we think sound fun, order the comics every week…”
The bell dinged over the door, a small group of regulars strolling in. Liza made a move to greet them, and Clark fell into position behind the counter.
“I hope you’re right,” Liza concluded, “and it is nothing more than a bunch of teenagers. Otherwise, we’re going to need something more than one of your fantasy boyfriends to protect us.”
I smiled to myself, leaning back against the counter and letting a vision of Brick fill my mind. I imagined him busting through the front door, his fist wrapped tight around the shirt collar of some jock and his smoldering eyes pointed directly at me. It sent a shiver down my spine, and I could have swooned there just thinking about it.
“Trust me,” I said. “I’m positive that Brick is not the kind of guy who disappoints.”
