I walked through the door to the old bookshop. It smelled slightly of books, but there was an overpowering odor of mold. I wrinkled my nose, as I felt a sneeze begin to creep through my nasal cavities. Ew, why would my mother insist I get a job here? I replayed the scene that had unfolded last night, in my mind.

I had been minding my own business after a hard day of yard work, lying on my bed and reading a book about the history of zombies or some such, when my mother deemed it the perfect opportunity to get on my case about a summer job. She seemed to appear in my doorway out of thin air,
and succeeded in scaring me half to death.

"Cymber," she began, "I was at Secret Keepers today, you know, that old bookshop, run by Mr. Jenks?"

This was all she needed to say to tell me exactly what she had in mind.

"Mom, I already told you," I said, probably tossing her one of the annoyed looks I'm told I'm famous for. "I'm to busy to get a job."

"Busy doing what?" she asked, narrowing her eyes slightly. She could always tell when I was telling a fib, no matter how tiny.

"Ugh..." I said trying to think of an excuse, "You know Mr. Jenks is crazy right mom? Do you think it would be very safe for me to work there?"

"Oh, give me a break, Mr. Jenks is no more crazy than you or I."

I gave a snort of laughter at this, "Mom, he is constantly scaring customers away by talking about some prophecy, and some Secret Keeper. He is a freak!"
I didn't really believe this however, because I had never even had a chance to get to know him myself but, that was what all my friends called him, Mr. Jenks the freak.

"Well," she said, beginning to back out of the doorway and back down the hallway from where she came. "He is offering ten dollars an hour."

At these words, thoughts of clothes, shoes and purses entered my head. Think of all the things I could buy! Only five hours of work and I could pay for those new destroyed black denim, skull shaped rhinestone covered, jeans that I had been drooling over in the store window of Sinder's Wicked Wonders. Yes, your typical punk, grunge store, and I loved it.
Despite my taste in clothing, I wasn't a bad kid, I made high grades and I wasn't involved in drugs of any kind. I attended Church, Youth Group and I was proud to call myself a Christian. I didn't wear all black and I didn't have any strange facial piercings. So, no one could stick a label on me that would survive.

I turned my attention back to my mom. "When do I start?"