FICTION
Magic Jane
A Short Story
Jane sits on the floor in the children’s section, a stack of paperbacks on the floor beside her. Ten years old, in jeans and a striped T shirt, Jane’s cropped brown hair and bangs frame a face that is clever rather than pretty. She’s come to the bookstore with her father, who is downstairs looking at grown-up books.
These Saturday bookstore visits are a dream come true for Jane, the only good thing to come from the divorce. Before the divorce, her parents rarely bought Jane books. Instead, she and her mother went to the library each Saturday morning, where Jane chose ten books, which she’d always finish reading before their next visit.
Then Jane‘s dad moved out. Now each Saturday morning they go to the bookstore together.
“How many can I buy?” Jane had asked him the first time.
He smiled and ruffled her hair. “As many as you want, cookie.”
Each week, Jane browses the “intermediate reader” shelves. When she’s gathered as many books as she can carry, she’ll sit on a quiet stretch of the carpeted floor with its happy pattern of puppies and clowns and dancing mice, and examine each book carefully. Although she can buy as many as she pleases, she only wants them if they’re special, and not, as her mom would put it, mindless garbage.
