“‘Lectern’s New and Used Books’,” Sunset Shimmer read aloud from the sturdy wood sign board. It stood proudly on a small front yard landscaped with native plants, transverse to be readable by approaching foot and motor traffic. Brightly painted lettering raised from the rough-carved background suggested the same bygone era as the white two-story bungalow before which it stood. “Well, Twilight, when you said you had a new hang-out in mind, I guess none of us should be surprised it would turn out to be a bookstore!”
“Umm . . .” Twilight Sparkle looked characteristically abashed. “I guess not.”
Rainbow Dash, standing immediately behind her, punched her lightly on the shoulder and laughed. “Well, we’ve come all this way, so we might as well go in, right? Maybe they’ll have books on sports.”
Twilight perked up immediately. “Oh, Mister Lectern has books on everything! And if he doesn’t have it in stock, he can get it. I’ll bet every one of you girls can find something you’ll be interested in.”
“Only one way to find out,” Applejack replied from the tail end of the small crowd strolling up the sidewalk. Her voice, too, held a hint of good-natured laughter. “I sure ain’t turning right around and heading back.”
The neighborhood indeed was a bit out of the way for the Canterlot High students, whose stamping grounds tended to be elsewhere in the metropolitan sprawl and its attendant suburbs. It wasn’t farther away, really—just in an unfamiliar area, which psychologically doubled the apparent distance. Twilight, on the other hand, had gotten to know the place quite well during her time at the nearby Crystal Prep, before her recent transfer.
Some blocks, including the one on which Lectern’s stood, consisted of converted houses or detached business buildings; others were lined with adjoining two-story storefronts. All were well-kept and carefully preserved, even the majority that weren’t certified as historical buildings. In addition to curbside slots, parcels entirely given over to parking lots were scattered throughout the district.
“I for one am pleasantly surprised the parking is free,” observed Rarity as she looked around at the tidy buildings and modest throngs of passersby cheerfully lit by the late-morning sun. “From your description, darling, I expected to see meters everywhere. That’s depressingly common in such, well, lovely surroundings.”
“You mean ritzy,” Dash said bluntly.
“It does seem to be kind of . . . um, upscale, doesn’t it?” Fluttershy murmured.
“I guess you’re right,” Twilight responded, clearly taken aback and glancing around as if seeing the place for the first time. “But most of the people around here don’t seem to be too snobby about it, at least. Mister Lectern sure isn’t.”
“Let’s go find out!” Pinkie Pie all but shouted. “Time’s a-wastin’.”
Shoes and boots thumped on the planks of the wheelchair ramp and the front porch as the seven teens trooped up to a varnished double door set with elliptical stained-glass windows in the upper panels. Twilight’s outstretched arms pushed them open with a self-conscious flourish, and she strode forward almost without breaking stride. An old-fashioned bell jingled welcomingly from the top of the doorjamb.
“Hello and welcome to—my word, it’s Miss Sparkle! I haven’t seen you in weeks.” An elderly fellow of roughly average height and build, in white shirt and charcoal-gray suspenders, stood behind a counter to the left, bushy eyebrows raised in pleased surprise on a mobile, strong-featured face. His brick-red coloring contrasted sharply with a balding halo of snow white hair, though it was hard to tell whether the white was natural or bleached with age. His years hadn’t affected the piercing quality of his leaf-green eyes, at least, as they looked over reading glasses to take in the gaggle entering to stand on the industrial runner just inside the door. “Goodness, my dear. I think this is the first time you’ve brought company with you. Have you finally made some friends?”
A thoroughly embarrassed Twilight cleared her throat and fidgeted. “I, uh, y-yes, Mister Lectern!” A sudden beaming grin lit her face. “Yes, I’ve made some friends, and it’s the most wonderful thing that’s ever happened to me. Except maybe finding this place.” The grin turned a little sly, or at least as close as she could come to it.
The old gentleman’s answering laughter was merry, and he rapped the wood countertop with a knuckle. “A point to you, young lady! Now, why don’t you introduce these wonderful friends of yours?”
Obediently Twilight ushered forward each of the other girls in turn, usually by an arm, though Fluttershy required getting behind and pushing. The smiling Lectern nodded and responded in kind to their varied greetings and temperaments. When all six had been presented, Lectern asked, “And how did you all meet the charming Miss Sparkle, may I ask?”
Instantly a flood of excited chatter filled the air, Pinkie actually hopping in place and waving her arms. Their singular audience blinked but listened gamely, and when the last few remarks trailed away, his brow knotted. “I daresay the Friendship Games certainly lived up to their name this time, and I understand now why you’ve been away, Miss Sparkle, but . . . hm. How shall I put this? Your story seems . . . not entirely complete?” He waved a hand, palm up, to include all of them in his question.
He was met this time with a resounding silence, and the girls looked at each other uneasily. After an awkwardly long moment, Sunset finally drew in a breath and answered, “The rest of it is kind of strange, and . . . well, maybe not for public consumption.” Solemn nods of agreement, even from the normally ebullient Pinkie, endorsed her discretion.
An odd mix of curiosity and respect crossed the old gentleman's face. “Ah. I can’t very well ask you to violate any confidences, now can I?” He swept out an arm in a hospitable gesture. “In that case, since we all have gotten acquainted, allow me to welcome you to my little kingdom. I’m sure Miss Sparkle can give you the nickel tour, if you like!”
The newcomers looked around at the shop’s half-lit interior. The counter behind which the proprietor stood looked as if it had started life as a bar. It ran for some distance straight from the wall beside the front door before curving away to a shorter perpendicular length, enclosing a small area for cashiers. Atop it sat a pair of point-of-sale terminals built around digital tablets cradled in pristine white swivel mounts, one on each side of the bend. An enormous antique cash register, hung with a placard reading “TIME MARCHES ON”, stood between its two modern descendants, visually separating the cashier stations. Forming the enclosure’s back wall were floor-to-ceiling enclosed bookshelves and, just within the counter, the access door for the staff. The runner on which they stood paralleled the counter, and where it left off, another sat at right angles to it, following the counter’s other arm. Just outside the bend of the counter, a classical-style fluted support column shored up the ceiling in the midst of an otherwise rather broad unsupported span.
On the other side of the runner by the front door was . . . a sitting room. Charming old wing chairs formed a pair of conversation groups, complete with small round coffee tables. Pole lamps in three corners, though unlit at the moment, promised reading light to seated patrons. One of the groups backed up against the picture window looking out on the oak-shaded front yard, but a generous aisle between them provided access and ended in a plain brick fireplace. Not all the furniture matched, but it was carefully chosen and arranged not to clash; Rarity nodded approvingly. Above it all hung a pair of ceiling fans with lighting fixtures. The fans turned lazily, but most of the lights were off, giving the room a cool, invitingly cozy quality.
On the far wall above the wainscoting hung three large framed maps. To the left of the fireplace was a completely up-to-date city map, its severe utilitarianism balanced on the fireplace’s other side by prints of older hand-drawn maps of the nation and the world. Opposite the picture window stood a switchback staircase, also of wood—stained and lacquered to a satin oak finish like the rest of the shop’s wood furnishings. The wall against which the stairs’ far, and upper, flight abutted bore two more plaques: “We reserve the right to refuse service to anyone” and “Please, no food or drink beyond this point or upstairs”.
Beyond that point were the shop’s raison d’être—rows of open bookshelves crammed to the ceiling with myriad volumes, the aisles they formed lit by recessed ceiling can lights. Twilight stood entranced for a moment, hands clasped under her chin, as she gazed once more upon this bounty of bibliographic delight. The others clumped behind her uncertainly.
“So, uh, are we doing this or what?” Rainbow Dash asked. “I mean, not that I think I’ll find anything, but we shouldn’t just stand around, right?”
Twilight twitched as if she’d been poked. “Huh? Oh, yeah, right.” She blinked and pivoted to glare accusingly. “Hey! I’m sure even you can find something interesting, Dash!”
Lectern, who’d watched the whole calvacade with twinkling amusement, put in, “Tell you what: If one of you can’t find even a single book she wants, I’ll let another one of you get one book free.”
He might as well have set off a starting gun.
“So, Mister Lectern, it’s mighty fortunate you weren’t busy with other folks when we came in,” Applejack commented as she leaned on the counter, arms folded, while he rang up her purchases and the others stood patiently in line behind her. In the event, the storekeeper wasn’t required to make good on his offer of free books—even Dash had a couple of adventure novels from a series Twilight recommended enthusiastically. Sunset chuckled when she saw the covers, but shook her head when the others looked at her inquiringly.
“Not as much as you might think, Miss Applejack,” he replied absently as he tapped the tablet’s screen. “The middle of a weekday usually isn’t very busy. That’s why I’m running the show myself, without any staff, right now. It’s a work day for most folks, and Miss Sparkle aside, this isn’t exactly a hotbed of youth activity.” He looked up suddenly with a smile. “Perhaps you girls will change that.”
“Well, I dunno about anyone else, but the least we can do is come here once in a while with Twi.” Applejack grinned and straightened to tip back her hat, then handed over a sheaf of bills.
The others were checked out quickly and efficiently, and when all was done, everyone stood around for a moment. “So what now?” Pinkie asked bright-eyed. “We hang out?”
“Lunch,” Dash said decisively. “I’m hungry.”
“You’re always hungry, darling,” Rarity commented dryly. “But—yes, that does sound good. Twilight, is there any place nearby you can recommend?”
“Oh, sure!” Twilight nodded vigorously. “There are lots of great places to eat around here.”
“Long as they ain’t too expensive, that works for me.” Applejack frowned. “But, hey, if we came all the way over here for a hang-out, shouldn’t we, you know, hang out?”
“Um, we could . . .” When everyone turned to her attentively, Fluttershy hid behind her hair, but continued, “We could get the food to go and come back.” She pointed at the plaques. “It says ‘beyond this point’. That means we should be okay in the front room, right?”
“Good point.” Sunset turned back to the counter. “Hey, Mister Lectern, we’re thinking of getting some lunch and bringing it back here. Is that all right?”
“Certainly, Miss Shimmer! As Miss Sparkle knows, the upholstery is treated with stain and water repellents for just that reason. Of course, I do expect you all to exercise due care.” Lectern's stern expression was undermined just a bit by a lurking twinkle.
“That means you, Pinkie,” Applejack added pointedly. Pinkie affected a put-upon pout but didn’t contest the implicit accusation.
Twilight grinned happily. “In that case—follow me, girls!” As they all turned to file out, she called over her shoulder, “’Bye, Mister Lectern! We should be back in an hour or so.”
“See you then, Miss Sparkle!”