Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

Jake

I step into the Bookworm's Haven, a quaint little bookstore nestled in the heart of downtown Wilmington. The bell above the door chimes softly as I enter, and the comforting scent of books greets me. Sophia is already there, browsing through a shelf of local authors.

"Hey," I call out, and she turns, a warm smile lighting her face.

"Jake! I was starting to think you got lost," she teases, setting down the book she was flipping through.

I chuckle, trying to ignore the flutter in my stomach at her smile. "Never. I just had to close up the shop. So, where's Elena?"

"Ms. Rossi is finishing up with a customer. Should be here any minute," Sophia replies, leading me to a cozy reading nook in the corner. "Why don't you tell me why we're here?"

As we settle into the plush armchairs, I tell her about the latest wish that's caught my attention. "Mr. Thompson, a local high school teacher, came by Coffee Loft yesterday. He has this incredible vision for his classroom—a ‘Reading Oasis.'"

Sophia leans forward, her reporter's instincts kicking in. "Tell me more."

"He wants to create a dedicated space filled with books, comfortable seating, and reading aids," I say. "The goal is to encourage students to explore literature and foster a love for reading. He believes that by creating a welcoming and engaging environment, he can better support students who struggle with literacy and inspire a lifelong passion for learning."

Sophia's eyes light up. "I like it, Jake. It could make such a difference in these students' lives."

My thoughts exactly and why I pushed this to the top of the line.

Before I can respond, Elena walks over, a warm smile on her face. She's a middle-aged woman with kind eyes surrounded by tiny laugh-lines.

"Jake, it's so good to see you." She pulls up a chair. "And you must be Sophia."

The women shake hands.

"I'm glad you reached out about Mr. Thompson's wish," Elena says, turning to face me. "I have a couple of ideas to make this work."

"I'm all ears." I lean back, eager to hear what she has in mind.

"What if we organized a community book drive?" Elena says, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "We could collect book donations and funds for the Reading Oasis. the Bookworm's Haven could serve as a drop-off point for donations, and we could host a series of fundraising events—author readings, literacy workshops, that sort of thing—to garner support."

I nod, already seeing the potential. "I like it."

"And the book drive could be another way to bring the community together." Sophia is perched on the edge of her seat, taking notes on her phone.

Elena nods. "I'd like to donate a selection of books from the store to kick-start the project. I'm also willing to work with local authors and educators to curate a diverse and engaging collection for the Reading Oasis."

Sophia's thumbs fly over the phone, her journalistic instincts in full swing. "This is fantastic. We could make a big impact at the local schools."

We spend the next hour discussing logistics, brainstorming ideas for the book drive, and considering fundraising events. Elena's passion is contagious, and I find myself getting more and more excited about the project.

"What if we incorporate some interactive social media campaigns?" Sophia asks. "We could do live Q&A sessions with authors, virtual book club discussions leading up to the main event. It would help us engage a wider audience."

I can't help smiling at her enthusiasm. This is the Sophia I admire—creative, passionate, always thinking about how to make the biggest impact.

"That's brilliant," Elena agrees. "It would help spread the word and get more people involved."

As we wrap up our meeting, I feel a surge of optimism. This could open up new worlds for students who might otherwise struggle with reading. It's exactly what I hoped the Wishing Wall would inspire.

"Thank you both for your help with this," I say as we stand to leave. "I can't wait to tell Mr. Thompson about our plans."

"Are you sure you don't mind a big social media campaign and getting the station involved in reporting this?" Sophia asks. "I don't want to steal your spotlight."

I put my arm around her shoulders without realizing what I'm doing and pull her close. "I don't mind one bit."

Mr. Thompson gestures around the classroom, outlining his vision for the Reading Oasis. Sophia stands beside me, jotting down ideas in her phone.

"I'm thinking we could have themed reading corners," Mr. Thompson says. "Maybe a fantasy nook with a miniature castle or a science corner with glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling."

I nod, already picturing it. "Something like that would spark the kids' imaginations."

"What about an interactive mural? We could depict famous literary journeys, like Dorothy's trip to Oz or Frodo's quest to Mount Doom," Sophia says.

Mr. Thompson's face lights up. "Yes! The students could add to it as they read new books. It would be a visual representation of their reading adventures."

"Maybe a bulletin board instead of an actual mural." I look around. As fast as the ideas are flying, we're quickly running out of blank wall space.

As we continue brainstorming, I'm in awe. This is exactly what I had in mind when I put up the Wishing Wall. People coming together to create something meaningful, something that could change lives. Like it had for me.

"You know," I say, as Sophia and I walk out of the school building, "this is what I've always envisioned, not just for the Wishing Wall but for our community. A hub that fosters meaningful connections and change."

Sophia looks at me, her eyes soft with understanding. "It's what you're creating at Coffee Loft. "

"Trying to," I say.

"What inspired you to start the Wishing Wall in the first place?" she asks as we make our way across the parking lot.

I take a deep breath. "When I was a young teen, someone gave me a helping hand when I needed it most. It changed my life. I've always wanted to pay that forward, to create a space where people could help each other, even if they didn't know each other personally."

Sophia's hand brushes against mine in a brief gesture of support. "You don't have to tell me unless you want to, but I'm curious who this helping hand was."

"I don't know." I stop walking and turn to face her. "Off the record?"

Sophia's eyes widen in surprise. "Of course. You don't think I'm here just as a journalist, do you?"

I shrug, shoving back the conflicting feelings that raise their heads like we're playing a game of Whac-A-Mole.

She puts a hand over her heart. "I won't tell a soul."

I swallow hard. "When I was a young teen, my family was struggling financially. I had school and a part-time job, but getting there and back…"

Sophia nods. "That couldn't have been easy."

It hadn't been. Some days I'd find a ride. Others, I walked the five miles home after a long shift. "One day, a brand new bicycle showed up in front of my house with an envelope with my name on it taped to the handlebars."

Sophia doesn't say a word, but there is no doubt I have her undivided attention.

"All the note inside said was: Keep moving forward. Someone cares ." And it had meant the world to me at that moment.

"No wonder you're so passionate about this," Sophia murmurs. I barely make out the words.

I take a deep breath, gathering my courage. "I was wondering... would you like to have dinner with me? A proper date?"

Her eyes widen in surprise, then soften with a smile. "I'd love to. When were you thinking?"

"How about now?" I suggest, my heart racing.

Sophia's smile widens. "Works for me. I'm starving."

We end up at Tom's seafood restaurant, where he insists we try the new signature dish his chef created to benefit the Wishing Wall. As we share a glass of wine with our meal, the conversation flows easily.

"I can't thank you enough for everything you've done for the Wishing Wall project," I say, my voice soft with sincerity. "Your involvement has meant so much to me."

Sophia looks down, a hint of worry crossing her face. "I've actually been concerned about that. I was worried I might be stealing your spotlight, taking over your project."

I reach across the table, gently taking her hand. "Sophia, you can steal my spotlight any day. This project is better because of you. Your passion, your creativity—they've elevated everything we've done."

Her eyes meet mine, a mix of relief and something deeper shining in them. "Really?"

"Really," I affirm. "We make a great team, on and off camera."