'What up, Chip.' Ferd was fifteen, a spotty, furtive, ignored kid...The kind of kid Chip knew pretty well, from having been one himself.
'I've gotta close up today, I got some business to tend to.' Ferd looked stricken. 'But you can hang out here, if you don't let anybody else in.'
'You can do inventory if you feel like it. You remember how to do inventory?'
'Yeah, sure I do.' The kid looked as close as he ever got to happy. You'd think he'd been asked to sweep up piles of gold coins.
...He hadn't been meaning to start a business. He'd just been looking for something to do with his old comic book collection. Then he'd added to it at swap meets, along with Magic cards, Dungeons & Dragons, posters of wizards, space aliens, warriors. He had to admit, he got a kick out of all that stuff. What everybody really wanted was video games, so he sold those too: GoldenEye, Counter-Strike, Warcraft. And he'd ended up with this dandy clubhouse for the town's lost boys.
...Chip's establishment wasn't exactly what theChamber of Commerce had in mind for the space. Still not too many people taking advantage of all the swell retail opportunities. And the ones who'd always dreamed of opening their own flower shop or knitting boutique had smacked their heads into a pretty solid economic wall."
The Year We Left Home Jean Thompson