Rewrite the Stars by Christina Consolino (books for 8th graders .txt) 📕

widely, and my deployments had brought variety—albeit the dangerous kind—to my days. At the center, life ran at a different pace, more like corn syrup than water, and nothing screamed urgent! on a daily basis. Except for a broken workout machine or an out-of-order water filter. In the summertime, the number of clients depended on the weather. On those days when the humidity hung like a haze in the air, more people sought shelter from the air-conditioned space. On other days, the lazy, sun-high-in-the-sky-so-blue kind of days, the whole city seemed to have gone away for vacation, leaving the place with so few clients, each hour took so fucking long to get through. Starting a shift so close to lunch time meant the day should be busy—we saw an uptick in patrons for the noon hour—but the more I had to do, the more my mind would be occupied.

Just as I’d logged myself on to the fitness center’s employee system, a thwack near the front doors drew my attention. My gaze flicked from the doors to the windows, to the right hallway and the conference room on the left, back behind me and then again in front of me. Under the glare of the sun streaming through the windows, someone had dropped a backpack, and another person had stopped to help, something too few people did these days. I’d seen the guy with the backpack before. He came to the gym each day to lift weights and run on the treadmill. But the other guy was new. Dressed in a suit, almost as if he didn’t quite belong there, he finished helping with the pickup and then headed my way.

“Morning.” The man tipped his head in my direction.

“Morning to you as well, though there’s not much left to it.”

The man wriggled the watch on his wrist and smiled. “You’re right. Thank goodness, because it’s been a long one.”

He had to be here for only one thing, so I got to the matter at hand. “What can I help you with?”

“I’d like to check out my options. I have a bit more time these days. The kids are getting older and easier to manage, and you know how it is.” He patted his abdomen. “I need to stay on top of this.”

I’d never been into free weights and all that, but as a reserve military member who faced who knew what when deployed for six months every two years, I had always kept in pretty good shape. Plus, the gym had been a sanctuary of sorts many times since leaving the service.

“What type of membership are you looking for?”

“I need a place to come and work out with hours that fit my schedule. I’m not one for classes or training.”

“The basic plan is your best bet then.” I handed him a brochure with the fine print and spaces to fill in his personal information and signature. “It’s twenty bucks a month, plus taxes and fees, and we’re open twenty-four hours a day. The basic plan doesn’t give you more than entrance, but it sounds like you might not need any extras. And of course,” I added, “we have free Wi-Fi. I like to point that out because people tend to call back and ask us about it.”

The man smiled again. “That’s great, but honestly, I’ll be coming here to get away from work. Maybe you get that.”

“I do.” Over the last few months, I’d learned to be polite to the clientele. Part of Doc’s reason for approving this job involved the low-stress environment. She also appreciated I’d be forced to speak to other people each day. “Let’s bring you back to the land of the living,” she’d said.

Without my prompting, the man went on, something that happened often in this place. “I own a company that helps other companies be better. We look at their branding, their workforce, their mission, web design, all that stuff. Try to make them do what they already do, but better.”

“Huh.”

“It’s going quite well, and we’re expanding...so much we’re hiring right now. If you hear of any web or software developers or marketing professionals, please tell me.”

A shiver began to crawl underneath my skin. I had enjoyed my former job, but it was too interwoven with my time overseas. “In a former life, I could have helped you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” I left it at that, but this guy, while not pushy, told me what he was looking for and why, then dropped the subject. I’d likely never pass the information to anyone else. In fact, the info would worm its way into my brain and stay there. I should have cut him off before he’d given me the details.

The silence that usually stretched between me and anyone else seemed heavy as I entered his information.

“Have you tried that new microbrewery?” he asked.

Beer and Zoloft didn’t mix, but the art of a craft beer had always held my interest. “I haven’t, but I’ve heard good things.”

“It’s been busy at work, but it’s time to head over. Heard the layout of the place is fantastic. Loads of space, only a few televisions to watch the Browns lose.”

I smirked at his comment. “Not a Browns fan?”

“Not a football fan, but I do love Tech City.”

“One of my favorites,” I said. Doc would be proud: holding my own in a conversation with someone unfamiliar. Maybe my ability to relate and connect with people was prepped to resurface.

I tipped my head when I handed him his receipt and credit card. “This can be automatically renewed if you like, but I’d advise you to wait and choose that option once you’ve decided if you like the place or not. Things have changed in the last few years with the new owner. All good, if you ask me, but the place runs a bit differently than in the past.”

“Sounds great.” He leaned in and extended a hand, then looked at my name tag. “Thanks for the information, Theo. It was nice to meet you. I’m