“You hurt the Caddy,” I teased. “Itʼs a miracle she didnʼt try to kill you.”
“I think Mrs. Sole is more of a torture kind of woman. Murder would be much too gauche.” Personally, I didnʼt find homicide nearly as gauche as telling a girl that you considered spending time with her torture.
I reluctantly made plans to meet him after school. How was I supposed to work with someone that obviously wanted nothing to do with me? I was angry at him for being so blunt, at Mrs. Sole for putting me into this situation, and mostly at myself for wanting him to like me. I knew better than to care what someone like Alex Cole thought of me. I tried to talk some sense into myself that afternoon as I drove to the center of town.
Our public library is my absolute favorite place on earth. Several years ago, the Methodist church relocated to a larger building on the outskirts of town, and the library moved into the old, gothic building on the court square. All of the wood, stone, and stained glass gave the place a majestic feel.
Of course, my little sister didnʼt care about the splendor of the building, or the fact that I felt like I was going to puke.
“Canʼt we go to the park and swing first? Pretty, pretty please?” she asked as I pulled into the tiny parking lot. Jase had basketball practice every afternoon, so I was stuck with baby-sitting duty on the days Mom worked.
“Sorry, Munchkin, but I have to work on a homework project. But itʼs Wednesday, so Emma will be here for you to play with.”
Angel immediately perked up. Emma was Miss Nancy, the librarianʼs, niece. On Monday, Wednesday, and Friday afternoons she stayed at the library while her mom went to aerobics.
She was in the third grade and Angelʼs idol.
Angel ran up the stone steps and through the heavy front door before I could get everything gathered from the back seat. I hurried after her to ensure that she was not causing a ruckus.
Miss Nancy preferred to keep her library as peaceful as the sanctuary the building previously housed.
I spotted Alex sitting at a table tucked into the reference section, but it took forever for me to work my way through the library. First, I had to stop and help Mr. George, a grouchy old man who hated everything except for the gaggle of animals with which he shared a two room apartment. I fixed his “broken” computer by turning the monitor back on. Then, Miss Nancy gave me a stack of books I requested and talked endlessly about the debate her blog had sparked over the importance of Holden Caulfield in modern society. I thought I was home free after that, but a hand came out of nowhere, grabbing my elbow and pulling me towards a rack of comics.
“Scout, look what just came in!” The hand and voice belonged to Bruce Parker, a rather unfortunate looking guy. He works as the assistant manager at MovieMart, an accomplishment he is extremely proud of. When he isnʼt extolling the genius of Guy Ritchie to the locals, he can be found bumming around the library. I would have found it pathetic if I wasnʼt there as often, if not more often, than he was.
“Is that a new manga? Iʼve never heard of this series.” I took the book and flipped through the pages. The artwork was fairly unambitious, but Bruce usually had a good eye for graphic novels.
“It reminds me of Kishimotoʼs work.”
“The guy who does Naruto?”
“Yeah, itʼs huge in Japan right now. You want it when Iʼm done?”
“No thanks. Iʼm more of a Death Note girl.” I was already moving towards the back corner where Alex waited, regarding me with a bemused expression.
“Sorry you had to wait,” I said, sitting my things on the table.
“No problem.” He looked like he was suppressing a laugh. “You had your many fans to attend to.”
I felt my cheeks turn red. I must have looked like the Queen of Geeks, talking to everyone in the library as I came through. “I come here while Jase is at basketball practice. We live pretty far out in the county, so it doesnʼt make much sense to drive home and then back into town again.”
“Oh, I figured that you were the kind of girl that hung out at the library. Iʼm somewhat surprised that youʼre into manga, though. I guess that explains all the angst.”
“You found me out,” I deadpanned. “Iʼm a closet emo. Not all of us can be a ray of freaking sunshine like you.”
“You think of me as a ray of sunshine?” His smile effectively proved my assessment, lighting up the normally dark library.
“Yes, and Iʼm a little black rain cloud. Now, can we please get down to business so that I can go home, change into my My Chemical Romance inspired wardrobe, and write poetry on my arm with a Sharpie?”
“Iʼm one step ahead of you, Amy Lee,” he said, handing me a couple of reference books.