Spoiler Alert: A Book Club

   It's a Tuesday afternoon, and you're all dressed up to go to your favorite club. You're wearing a Hogwarts crest shirt, and the sign of the Deathly Hallows hangs from a chain around your neck, to "identify yourself to fellow believers." It's Harry Potter night at Spoiler Alert.

  You cross the strip mall's crowded parking lot to the book club, with its large red sign gracing the plain stucco front. ***SPOILER ALERT*** it says in neon red print, with smaller words under it: Where Night Clubs Meet the Fandoms. It's just a small space stuck in between The Silver Screen Cinema and the gigantic Barnes and Nobles. The cinema only plays book-based movies and is supposedly run by the same people who own Spoiler Alert. You're in the literary minded part of town.

   Inside, a strip of black screens borders the top of the wall all the way around the room, flashing ***SPOILER ALERT*** on and off in alarm-clock style letters. The stereo is playing the audio for the Goblet of Fire movie playing on the screen that takes up most of the left hand wall. Some people sit on bean bag chairs in front of it, but most of them are talking in groups. Most people are conservatively dressed; you notice some house shirts, a few other pieces of Deathly Hallows jewelry, and a few house scarves, even though it's too hot for them. A few people, however, have gotten truly into the mood in school robes, and you look at them with a touch of envy. One girl has a wand stuck behind her ear and a necklace made of corks in the habit of a Luna-wannabe.

   You cross the dark colored hardwood floor, passing the groups of fans and the cork board serving as the wall of headcanons, towards the snack bar at the back, pausing at the podium on the small, circular raised platform. On the wall behind the podium, some of your favorite authors have signed their names, but you've seen that before. You're looking at the chalkboard on the front of the podium, which says that after the movie ends, someone named JilyLove has half an hour of screen time booked for a display of fanart, while the podium is booked for a fanfiction reading by Lavender Black.  Then someone else had it booked to read aloud their favorite parts from through out the series. It's nothing particularly exciting, but you might hang around to listen, depending on how much longer it takes for the movie to end.

   At the back of the book club, you realize it's Tuesday and you should have brought money to see a movie. The Tuesday snack bar special includes half off a smoothie or milkshake if you can show a Silver Screen ticket stub from that day. The club is free because they make their money from snacks and hopeful artists and authors paying to go on display, but you only have just enough cash for a chocolate shake, which won't cover a movie, too. You buy your shake and sit down on a stool, cracking open the Chamber of Secrets, to reread until you see some one worth conversing with. In this kind of place, reading is the best conversation starter.

   "What are you reading?" a boy's voice asks.

    "Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets," you reply, not yet looking up. "It's my favorite. This week, anyway."

    "Mine's the Order of the Phoenix," he says. "It always has been, though." He sits down on the stool next to yours, and you close your book. It's not at a truly exciting part yet anyway.

     The boy is cute, maybe even hot, but you have your standards set high by fictional boys like Jace, Ash, and Patch, and he isn't even dressed in any fandom merch like he's a real Potter fanatic, so he isn't immediately impressive. "So," he asks, "what's you name?"

    You tell him your name, and your Hogwarts house. You find out he's in the same one, and end up side tracking into a conversation on sorting theories and how the Hat works. After awhile you say, "I wish I'd gone to see a movie today. I'm planning on seeing The Iron Daughter with some friends on Thursday, but I could have gotten half off this milkshake by seeing the Maze Runner rerun or something today."

   "That's too bad, having to pay full price. Have you read the Maze Runner?"

    "No, actually," you admit. "Only heard of it."

    "Only heard of it?" He gasps in shock.

    "Well, if I see the movie, I'll have to read the books, just so I could drone on about how much better they are than the movie. But I've heard that at least it wasn't a Percy Jackson style fiasco."

   "Please don't mention those movies to me. I'm trying to erase them from my memory," he pleads.

    "Obliviate," you joke, pointing your finger at him like a wand. His brow furrows.

   "What was I saying? Oh, right. You really simply absolutely certainly positively MUST read the Maze Runner, and if seeing the movie will make you read it, then you should see it tonight. Do you want to go see it with me at the Silver Screen?"

    You don't hesitate long to answer, "Sure." The milkshake glass has been empty for awhile now, and you leave it on the bar as you follow the boy to the bookshelf near the front. He tips a book forwards towards him, and the entire shelf easily swings forward into the Silver Screen's lobby. The door only works from the book club side, and it's a lot of fun to see the surprised faces of movie goers who haven't been in Spoiler Alert or Silver Screen before. Today, though, it's pretty empty, and he buys the tickets in time for the two of you to hurry into the theater only five minutes late.

    It's a good movie, and a few hours later, you walk out to his car still talking about it. He says he wants to lend you the book.

   "I want to know exactly what you think after reading this. I think you'll like it," he says after handing it to you.

   "I'll call you when I'm finished reading it," you say.

    "But you don't have my phone number," he protests. You're reminded of The Fault in Our Stars, and respond accordingly with, "I strongly suspect you wrote it in the book."

   He grins, and it's not an Augustus Waters grin. It's all his. He runs his hand through his hair in a James Potter-style gesture, but you barely think of James and Lily while you look at him. "And you say we don't know each other."

   Your heart nearly stops because, in pushing back his hair, he brushed the fringe off his forehead, revealing a drawn-on lightening shaped scar. After he hands you a post-it note that really does have his number on it, and you say good bye, and he gets into his  to drive away, you walk off to your own car thinking, Maybe perfect boys exist outside of books after all.

Note to the Reader: If any of you acquire the time, cash, and inclination to start a real Spoiler Alert Book club, go ahead! And please tell me about it.