by J C Gilbert
One day a boy named Sefton Carlwater threw mud at her and got it all over her new white dress. Elaine was so upset because she knew her mother would be sad to see the dress ruined, not angry, just sad.
And this was somehow worse.
She didn’t mean for anything bad to happen but when Sefton's hair caught fire Elaine laughed as Sefton screamed. He eventually put the fire out in a little brown puddle. Elaine rejoiced to hear that Sefton’s mother was sad as well.
After that, the people of the village called a meeting, and at that meeting, they decided to cast Elaine out of the village for good. Elaine was sad, and her mother was sad, and together they cried.
Fortunately, Elaine had a sister called Tabatha, and she agreed to go with Elaine, for though Elaine did on occasions do some rather nasty things to her sister, Tabatha always forgave her because she loved her sister dearly, no matter how strange she got.
There did not appear to be any more written in the book, though there were many more blank pages.
“What a peculiar story,” I said to the cat. Its purrs had reached peak helicopter by this point.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
I closed Elaine’s book and set it on a side table. I sat for a while, thinking about the story. Part of me wanted to find the old lady again and give her a hug.
My eyes fell on the landscape that stretched away out the window. I began to wonder what The Library looked like from outside. It was raining now, but I didn’t mind it. I lifted the window up and poked my head outside.
I craned my head, looking left and right. It seemed to me like The Library was in a castle, grand and old. The stones looked like they were crumbling in parts and vines were growing up the brickwork. The air was clear and refreshing, and the smell of the rain on the old bricks filled my nostrils. It was like that smell that roads get in the summer after a shower.
“Are you alright there?” asked the Librarian from behind me.
Startled, I pulled my head back inside, banging my head on the way in.
“Oh, yes,” I said, rubbing the place which I had banged. There would be a lump for sure. “Um, I just wanted to ask about this book. I only read a chapter, and there doesn’t seem to be any more.”
“Ah yes. That does happen sometimes. The book has a will of its own. It will only show you what it wants to show you. Self-preservation, I think. How did you find it?”
“I’m not sure. A little creepy, I think.”
“I am not surprised.”
“I better head back. Mom will wonder where I am. Can I check the book out?”
“You can check it out any time you want, but you may never leave,” said the Librarian, grinning. She tapped her nose for good measure.
“Hotel California?”
“Yes indeedy! I’ve been researching your culture. Very strange hotels you must have. But in all seriousness, no. You can’t take them from The Library. They are reference, you might say.”
I very seriously considered not going to detention. I mean, what would happen if I just went to The Library every time people wanted me to do something that I didn't want to do? The Library offered a level of escape which I never thought possible.
It was changing my life forever.
The morning of the detention I decided I would go, but not without my book. I was determined to get out of the house before anyone was up so I wouldn't get the third degree about the detention. It was stupid, I mean, who gives people detention for reading?
I couldn't tell my parents.
I imagined what it would be like telling Mom. I could vividly see her expression, her mingled concern and pity, that look that people give you when they know that you are defective.
I knew that it wasn't a great idea to bring Alice. The temptation to disappear during detention was probably going to be too great. I stuffed it into my bag anyway. I didn't like the idea of Mom or Jonny randomly coming across it and finding out about the secret world within its pages.
I got to school early. When Mr. Wilson finally turned up, he just opened the door to one of the classrooms and then left me there without saying anything.
At first, I thought that I was just supposed to sit there for two hours without saying or doing anything. People were always thinking up useful ways to use up your time like that.
After about ten minutes Darcy walked in, Mr. Wilson behind him.
“I can’t be here!” Darcy protested.
“You are lucky I didn't call the cops,” said Mr. Wilson. This definitely seemed like a conversation they had had before.
“Come on, I need to go. There are things I need to do. People are depending on me.”
“You had a weapon at school.”
“It was after hours!”
“And you still haven't given me an adequate explanation as to why, Darcy. Until I get one, you will sit in this room with Miss Reed.”
Darcy turned and saw me. He looked embarrassed, and I felt embarrassed for him being embarrassed.
“I have a task for the two of you,” said Mr. Wilson. He had two books and placed them each on our desk. They were textbooks on Irish History. “You will find a collection of essay questions near the front of the book. Answer one of them.”
“This is a waste of time.”
“Yes, Darcy. It is a waste of time. I had to get up early on a Saturday morning for you, and you aren't even grateful.” Mr. Wilson sighed, “just do the essay.”
Darcy kicked his desk in apparent frustration. I wondered what the desk had done to him to deserve this treatment.
“I’ll be back soon,” said Mr. Wilson, “don’t go anywhere.”
Once Mr. Wilson had left, Darcy immediately got up and left the room too.
I was alone with the silent papers and distant morning birdsong. I opened the textbook and started reading. As far as detentions go this didn't seem so bad. Mr. Wilson was a gym teacher after all. He could have made us watch sports or something.
It wasn't long before Mr. Wilson came back. He saw that Darcy was gone and immediately stormed off, swearing.
I wasn't sure about this Darcy guy. The Librarian seemed to think that he was in danger. He seemed alright. I mean, it was definitely interesting that he had a sword at school, but he seemed really serious and was mean to desks.
I felt the urge to take out my book, even just to place it on my desk. At this point, I figured that Mr. Wilson would be tied up with finding Darcy. I opened to chapter one and began to read.
I couldn't stay in The Library long, but it was better than detention. My mind was on Elaine’s book. I found myself worrying about the two little girls lost in the wilderness. I wanted to find them and help them.
When I got to my nook, I found that the cat was sitting there waiting for me. It greeted me, and I petted its head. The book was right where I had left it.
The weather through the window was bright and sunny. I opened the book and began to read.
My peripheral went dark, and my heart stopped beating. The air drained from my lungs, and the page rushed towards me.
I was being pulled in.
I tried to withdraw my gaze, but it was too late. I was falling.
I landed on hard concrete. Darkness wrapped around me. I collapsed onto the ground, unable to see. The floor beneath me was cold and dusty. There was the distinct aroma of something dead somewhere nearby. I covered my mouth.
“Psst,” said a voice.
I looked about but couldn't see anything. My eyes were adjusting, but still, everything was shadow.
“Over here,” said the voice. Now through the dim light, I could see her. It was a girl. She seemed to be a couple of years older than me. She was staring at me, eyes wide, both hands clinging to the bars of her prison cell. “Quickly!”
“What is it?” I said, uncertain. My heart was pounding fast, and I did not want to be here. Hank was going berserk.
“The guard is asleep. Get the key from his belt!”
I turned to look where she was pointing. As
she said, there was a man asleep, hunched over a wooden desk. “Now!” she hissed.
“Where am I?” I asked.
“He will be back soon!”
I started to panic. “Who?”
“The other guard. Just get the key now!”
I tried to move, but I was shaking all over. My breath was fast and shallow, and every breath brought in another lungful of that awful smell. “I can't!” I protested.
“You have to!”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
I looked down at the book In my hand. It was dark, but I tried to read it anyway. I just couldn't handle this. I fled back to The Library.
Once I was sure that I was safe in my nook I sat just there for a moment, my heart pounding.
Why was she shouting at me like that? Why did it smell so bad in there? That girl needed my help, and I didn’t do anything. I ran away.
A cocktail of emotions swirled within me. Only Hank seemed to be fine with me running away, though he twitched his nose when I remembered how long I had been from detention. I took a deep breath and opened Alice.
Once I was back in the detention room, I saw that Darcy had returned. He was sitting a few rows in front of me, and it looked like he was reading the history book. I commanded my attention to the page, pushing away the experience I had just had in Elaine’s book.
I wrote about half a page on one of the questions and then gave up and drew a dragon. This relaxed me. The dragon was curled up on a giant pile of books. A true treasure trove.
After about an hour, Mr. Wilson appeared again. “Where have you been?” he demanded of Darcy.
“Right here, Mr. Wilson. I just went to the toilet before. Is that allowed?”
“You know what really gets me?” asked Mr. Wilson, “how you can keep on messing up even though you know that it's just gonna be you and me here every Saturday until the end of time.”
“It's just my character,” said Darcy blankly.
“Most kids are like Miss Reed back there. They mess up once, they come in once, and I never see them on the weekend ever again.”
Darcy whipped around and looked right at me. He looked afraid.
“Yes, Miss Reed. Although maybe you shouldn’t stare at her like that.”
Darcy held his gaze on me a moment longer, seeming to search my eyes. I looked away.
When I was finally out of that room, I did my best to make sure that I left school a different way than Darcy. I didn't like the way he looked at me. It got me worrying. Maybe he knew something was up with me? If his life was somehow tainted by the void, then I had to be more careful around him. Do I really want to freak him out?
If the wrong people found out about The Library, then they might try and take my book. I couldn't let that happen. I would have to be more careful about where I was when I went into The Library. If I disappeared and then reappeared right in front of people, then there would be questions.
After crossing the road from the front of the school, I glanced back for a moment. Darcy was standing by the school gates. He was watching me leave.
Once I was clear from the school, I turned my phone back on. It immediately buzzed. I had received three messages while in detention, all of them from Mom.
Where are you?
We are taking Jonny to the fairy forest.
Talk later.
Shoot. I knew what talk later meant. Talk later meant I would be told how much I have messed up again. I would get that look, that one that said that she knew that I was defective. I hated that look.
I genuinely felt awful. When Jonny was talking about the fairies, I felt like I was nine again too. I just wanted to be transported back to that time where every tree log held secrets, and if you were quiet enough, you could hear the fairies singing.
The good kind of fairies.
Sorry, I was at Lilly’s. Battery was flat.
It was a stupid excuse, and I knew it.
There is no way I wanted to go home now. Things were getting stressful, and I needed to talk to someone. Grandma volunteered at a thrift shop on Saturdays. Maybe I could catch her on her lunch break?
I always loved visiting my grandma’s shop when I was a kid. It was always filled with the strangest looking mugs, ancient electronics, and hundreds of little glass ornaments. There were clothes there too. Some of them were nice, but most of them were so peculiar that you had to wonder who ever bought them in the first place.
I waited for the bus at a stop some distance from school. Using the public transport system was always an adventure and one for which Hank had a particular distaste. I had a coping kit which I never failed to leave behind. This consisted of dark glasses, headphones, and my mobile or book.
I put on the glasses and plugged my headphones in. I wore the glasses even though it was cloudy. Likewise, I wore the headphones even when nothing was playing. I just had to block out the world. Though I was prepared, there was always the chance that someone would try and speak to me. I could feel Hank running around inside my stomach.
The bus pulled up.
Things had gotten more manageable now that you could just swipe a card to get on the bus. No worries about not having the right change or saying the wrong thing to a stressed bus driver. Just swipe and nod. Though there was always the chance that the card would be empty.
I stepped onto the bus.
The bus driver was wearing dark glasses too. I wondered if we wore them for the same reasons. I scanned the bus for a place to sit. This was always tricky. If you sat next to someone, then they might think you want to talk. If you sit alone, then there was still the chance that someone at the next stop would sit next to you.
I took an empty seat near the back and pulled out my phone.
The journey seemed to be going well. Every time we pulled up to a bus stop, Hank got a little excited, but it always passed when no one sat next to me.
Then the unthinkable happened.
“Hello again, dear.”
It was the old lady from the bus stop across the road from the bookshop. She completely ignored my headphones. I made a mental note to get larger ones, maybe those enormous ones which covered your ears.
“Hi,” I said.
My phone buzzed. Instinctively I looked at it and inadvertently opened a message from Darcy. I winced with anxiety. I closed the message as fast as I could. What if the old lady saw it? What if she teased me about talking to a boy?
The world was a minefield.
“I think a storm is brewing,” said the lady, peering out the window, “you wouldn't think it though, would you?”
“No,” I said, “I like storms.” I cringed. Was that even something people say?
“Oh me too dear. People always call it bad weather, but I like it.”
“It's much better.” I cringed again.
The worst thing about the conversation was that I was actually interested. Why couldn’t Hank just leave me alone for five minutes? I just needed a rest.
Once off the bus, I read Darcy’s message properly. I wasn't sure how he messaged me. I was only vaguely aware of how half the apps on my phone worked. Lilly kept putting new ones on to communicate in new and different ways. I guess Darcy must have been able to see me on one of them.
We need to talk.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
I read the message and then read it again. What did Darcy mean? Somewhere in the back of my mind, I was hearing warning bells about what boys do when they want to date you. I didn't think Darcy actually wanted to do that sort of thing. He was way too serious for that. But it still contributed to the soup of awkwardness.
This is why I don't go where people are.
I decided I would handle the message the way I did best: by ignoring it and hoping it would go away. To be honest, I was kind of angry that he messaged me at all. It's not as though we were friends.
But then again that would disqualify everyone in the world but Lilly, so there you go.
The musty smell of the thrift shop enveloped my
experience. It was a friendly smell.
Behind the counter sat Agatha, Grandma’s thrift shop friend. She never seemed to remember who I was so I never said hello. I smiled at her, but her attention was on her magazine. It seemed Grandma was out to lunch.
I crept through the familiar shelves of second-hand treasures. Some of the items had been there since I was little. There was a creepy clown doll in the window which I was fairly sure Grandma only kept as a joke. I loved the old jigsaw puzzles which no one bought, some of which I had done with Grandma on rainy days. The whole place was a time capsule.
I wandered to the pre-loved books section where my eyes scanned the shelves for Lewis Carroll. Some habits are hard to break. He wasn’t there.
I sat down on the old creaky stool and picked out a book at random. Before long I was enthralled by the description of an old house with a secret treasure.
“Hello, dear,” said Grandma, pulling me back to the present.
“Grandma!” I said, jumping up and giving her a big hug.
“Would you like a cuppa?”
I nodded vigorously.
“It’s lovely to see you,” she said once we had sat down in the small kitchen out the back, “I do worry, with you being a teenager now, that you will lose interest in your old grandma.”
“Of course not,” I said, shaking my head. I wasn't that kind of teenager, and she knew it, but I guess even grandmas like to hear that their company is wanted.
Grandma always knew it was books and drawings and the forests that were on my mind. She kind of got me in a way that no one else did, not even Lilly.
It was almost like we were related or something.
We talked about these things and others. The time flew by, and the tea drained away. It took me a while to build up to the question, but eventually, I asked it.
