“Jamie,” Sonia called. “Feel like checking the book drops?”
“Sure,” I answered. I handed my cleaning supplies over the counter, and Sonia handed a bag to me.
“If it’s really full, make more than one trip, mami. Don’t kill yourself lugging them all at once.”
“I won’t. Thanks.”
I listened to the familiar jingle of the bells as I opened the door and stepped into the muggy afternoon air. It felt like rain was on its way. Most people complained about rain, but I loved it. I loved the smell of rain, before and during, but mostly after, how nothing else in the world smelled just like it. I loved how the shade of every color changed in the rain to a softer version of itself. But most of all, I loved the way the world got quiet for rain. Like library quiet.
I ambled around the building to the book drops.
And there was Shady.
He was tucked between the two drops, same as before, but this time up on all fours and busy at work. He was licking a clear plastic plate that looked like the lid of a takeout container. Shady looked very satisfied with whatever it was he had just devoured. He pattered over on his small dirty paws to wag his tail at me, sniff my sandaled feet, and lick my hand once I bent down to him. I saw the makeshift water cup had been replaced with a round black shallow bowl—the bottom of the takeout container. It was full of clean water, filled to the brim, with three ice cubes floating on the surface like tiny logs in a lake. Someone had just visited this little guy.
Shady turned then and padded his way back to his spot, spiraled in a circle twice, then plopped down and closed his eyes.
“All right, cutie. Nap time for you.” I emptied the drops and carried the returns back inside.
I stacked the books on the counter for Sonia and felt myself do an actual double take as I spotted Black Hat Guy in his chair. He was seated, one leg crossed over the other, his phone plugged into the newly cleaned outlet, typing and scrolling on the tiny screen.
“Did he just get here?” I whispered to Sonia.
“Yes. Late today,” she said.
“I was worried about him,” I admitted.
“Just late.” Sonia was busy typing up the calendar part of the library newsletter. “Maybe tonight’s a full moon.”
“A full moon?” I repeated.
“Hmmm.” She kept working, eyes on the screen.
“What, like he’s a werewolf?”
“Huh? What are you talking about?” Sonia stopped typing and looked at me like I was nuts.
“Nothing, sorry.”
After Sonia checked in the books from the drop, I lined them up on the shelving cart. I was about to arrange them in order by call number, but my eye jumped to a title instead, and then the next title, and then the one after that.
“Oh my gosh,” I said. “Sonia, look at this!” I pointed at the last three books and said, “If you read these titles in order, it says ‘Between You and Me, Who Will Run the Frog Hospital?, Just Kids.’ Isn’t that funny? It’s like a little story.”
“It’s spine poetry,” Sonia answered back. “It’s a thing.”
“What’s a thing?”
“Exactly what you just did, arranging a stack of books so the titles on the spine read from top to bottom like a poem.”
“But I didn’t do this. They were already in that order.”
“Hmmm.” Sonia thought, moving her eyebrows up and down in challenge. “Sounds like it’s time for a new game.”
Sonia was awesome.
“Okay,” I agreed.
“One hour. That’s it. Then we’ll show each other what we’ve got. You can use the purple cart in the back room to store your poems, and I’ll stick mine under the counter. Starting”—she squinted at the clock above the door—“now!”
I rushed to the back room to grab the cart and tackle some shelf reading while I played the game. Maybe I’d get lucky and find books next to each other that already worked as a poem. But then I thought that sounded a little like cheating, and I would never do anything even remotely close to cheating again, so I bagged that idea and just looked for interesting titles.
After only a few minutes, though, Beverly found me and gave me a long list of picture books and novels to pull out of the kids’ collection. Sonia got pretty busy at the circ desk, too, and I noticed her step toward the stacks only a handful of times to grab books, which made me feel better, because spine poetry was a lot harder than I thought it’d be.
I wasn’t much of a poetry reader, so I didn’t have the first idea how to write a poem. Plus, I kept getting interrupted—I had to empty the book drops again, and I had to double-check a stack of easy readers. I also had to put together seven different puzzles some kid pulled apart and left scattered all over the floor.
“Time’s up!” Sonia announced, sticking her head into the children’s room. “We went over, actually.”
“That went too fast,” I said.
“Because it was fun. Meet me out front with your poems,” and she returned to the circ desk.
I didn’t need a cart to carry my spine poems. I had only managed to make one.
“Okay, show me what you got,” Sonia said when I reached her. She was sitting on the tall stool, swinging her feet like an overexcited kid.
“Um, can you go first?”
“Certainly,” she said, sounding a little too eager to show me her work. She thumped her first stack onto the counter for me to read, lining them up just so. There were only three titles in her first poem. I read them out loud:
Wild Swans
The Color of Water
Dance Dance Dance
“That’s really beautiful.” I was in awe.
“I know.”
“That really sounds like a poem,” I said.
“I know.”
“Gee, Sonia. Modest at all?”
“Not with this. I rock at spine poetry,” she said confidently. “Own up when you’re good at something. It’s not bragging. It’s just honesty.”
“Okay . . .” I considered that.
“Like with your artwork, what I saw in your sketchbook. You’re good. You don’t have to be shy about it.”
“Really?”
“That’s exactly what I’m talking about. Yes, really. Own it.”
“Okay,” I said, more sure this time. “Thank you.”
“Ready for my next one? I made three total.”
Sonia set up a stack of five books, then read it to me:
Breath, Eyes, Memory
Hold Still
Wise Children
Quiet
Kiss Good Night
“You’re so good at this!” I almost yelled at her.
She just started laughing, while she reached for another stack. “Last one.”
One Crazy Summer
A Walk in the Woods
Why We Broke Up
Forever
Farewell, My Lovely
“Okay, you killed me in this game. I’m dead. So dead.”
Sonia was still laughing. “Show me yours. I bet it’s great.”
I let out a heavy breath and bit my lip. I couldn’t believe what I was about to reveal, especially after Sonia’s gorgeous work.
“Fine. Here it is.” And I set it up on the counter next to hers, just one book on top of another:
The Trouble with Chickens
Scat
And Sonia erupted, laughter shooting out of her in every possible direction. She doubled over, clutching her stomach, and I couldn’t help it, I burst into laughter, too.
Within a minute Lenny was there, checking to see what all the noise was about. One glance at the stacks of books as he approached us and he said, “Spine poetry? I love spine poetry.”
Sonia just pointed at my puny stack, unable to get out actual words because of the laughing.
Lenny read it and let out a howl, cracking up as hard as Sonia.
“Chickens,” he managed to say between laughs, “and fecal matter.” He tried to whisper, bu
t the heavy breathing that went with the laughter made it hard to keep quiet. “That’s poetry gold.”
I smiled wide at my two new friends and shrugged. I guess I knew how to write a poem after all.
Sonia
After a rush of patrons right at opening the next morning, the library emptied out and I had time to browse the Art section. It was Wednesday, July 26, which also happened to be National Aunt and Uncle Day. I wanted to make a special drawing for my aunt Julie, so was searching for some inspiration. I couldn’t believe I had lived in Foxfield all these years and never knew about the gorgeous art books sitting on these shelves, waiting for me the whole time. I had a lot of catching up to do. Before I picked one to take home, though, Sonia called me over to the circ desk.
“We’re slow right now. You want to do this pile of returns yourself?” she asked me, sipping coffee in a mug that read I’d rather be in the library.
“Really?” I asked, excited to learn something new.
“I’ll watch you. It’ll be fine.” Sonia half glared at me, and then ordered, “Have some confidence.”
“Okay.”
“Trade spots.” Sonia switched places with me so I was behind the monitor. “Hit F2 to get to the check-in screen, then click here to set it up for this pile.”
I followed her directions.
“Now it’s just the same as you did last time. Scan each one, make sure you get a beep, and read the title on the screen.”
“Okay, I can do that.” I picked up the first book.
“Of course you can.” Sonia pulled up a chair and sat beside me, ready to watch over my shoulder as I worked. “Then when you finish this pile, we’ll scan them again under inventory check, to make sure they’re all in. Always double-check.”
“Always double-check,” I repeated. “That’s what your mug should say, by the way.”
“What?”
“Your mug. What it says doesn’t make any sense, that you’d ‘rather be in the library,’ because you are in the library. It’s confusing. You should have one that says ‘Always double-check.’ That would be better.”
“I think you’re taking my mug situation too seriously,” Sonia replied.
I smiled to myself, then got to work.
I scanned and it beeped and I read the screen, and then I placed the book in a pile to my right. I got a rhythm down—scan, beep, read, place, scan, beep, read, place—and it was downright fun. I stood taller and pushed my shoulders back.
Scan, beep, read, place.
I looked up from the screen when a mom came in with a young boy, grubby with kid sweat and dirt on his little knees. I greeted them and they said hello back and then walked over to the children’s room. An older couple, Mr. and Mrs. Jansen, came in right after them. They chose some back issues of Reader’s Digest from the periodical wall and settled into seats side by side to read them.
I kept going with my pile, slowing down a bit on purpose to make it last. These patrons who walked in and saw me behind the desk thought I was a regular library employee. Why wouldn’t they? I was doing the work and I was dressing the part and I really felt, for the first time in a long time, like I was part of something good. I didn’t want it to end.
Scan, beep, read—
And then it ended.
The title on the screen: Jane Eyre.
My gut clenched and twisted as I stared at it.
“It went through,” Sonia said. “What’s wrong?”
I held up the book so the cover faced her.
“Oh,” she said.
Sonia put her coffee cup aside and leaned closer to me. “Okay. Should we talk this out, Jamie?”
“No,” I mumbled.
“No?”
“It’s fine. I’m fine,” I lied.
“You’re lying,” she said.
“Beverly already talked to me,” I said.
“Well, it appears there are some loose ends still tangling you up. Otherwise, I’d still be hearing that beautiful sound of books beeping back into the collection.” Sonia stared at me.
“You don’t have to,” I answered, not looking at her.
“Of course I don’t, and you don’t have to be doing my job right now, but you are. You’re already past your hours this week, again. We both know that.”
“I like it here,” I said quietly, staring at my sandals and the worn, scratched tile beneath them.
“And we like you, but you can’t spend the rest of your life afraid of a book title.” Sonia hopped off her chair to grab an empty stool on wheels and rolled it over to me.
“Sit,” she commanded. Then she positioned her chair so we were facing each other, our knees touching, our faces less than two feet apart.
“So let’s start with the girl who asked for this book—every time she comes in here, you freeze up like a mouse dropped in a snake cage.”
I tilted my head and squinted my eyes, trying to figure out exactly what that meant.
“Don’t ask,” Sonia warned.
I furrowed my eyebrows, asking.
“My son, Mateo, went through a snake phase, a pet snake phase.” She shook her head as if casting away a bad memory. “It didn’t last long. One feeding and it was over.”
I grimaced.
“So, that girl?”
“That’s Trina,” I said. “She’s in my grade. She’s Trey’s sister.”
“Who’s Trey?” Sonia asked.
I sighed heavily. “It’s too embarrassing.”
“It was embarrassing,” Sonia corrected me. “Now it’s over. It’s been over for a long time, but you won’t let it go. It’s like you have this whole fantastic book in front of you, but you just keep reading the same awful chapter over and over again. It’s time to turn the page, mami, and get on with the next part of the story.” Sonia let out a deep breath.
“Besides, a mistake over a boy is a rite of passage.” She nodded with certainty. “Trust me. I know.”
“I still feel stupid,” I mumbled.
“Yeah? Go see how far that gets you. You think I felt like a world scholar when Mateo’s father disappeared one day, taking all my money with him, me only nineteen years old with a growing bowling ball in my belly and all alone?” She kept her voice low so only I could hear. “It happened. You keep going. You turn the page.”
“Well now I really feel stupid, compared to what you had to go through. . . .”
“Don’t feel stupid. Just get it out of your system once and for all and be done with it.”
The mom with the little boy returned to the desk with two movies to check out.
Sonia stepped in front of the monitor to help them.
“Just these today. I have a project to get through tonight and I need him out of my hair,” the mom explained to us, guilt in her voice.
“Mommy, I want books,” the boy whined.
“Next time, Xander. I promise. We’re in a rush now.”
Xander whined more.
“My kid wants a book and I’m making him get movies,” she said, digging her library card out of her wallet. “I guess I’ll be receiving the Mom of the Year Award.”
“No, no,” Sonia told her. “You do what you have to do.” She scanned the woman’s card and movies and handed them back to her.
“Mo-om,” Xander groaned.
Sonia leaned over the counter to tell the little boy, “The next time you come I will have a stack of new books, just for you, okay?”
He stared back up at her, eyes wide, lips parted.
“Oh, Xander, isn’t that special? New books just for you!” his mom repeated.
“Okay, Xander?” Sonia said, smiling her gorgeous smile at him.
“O-kay,” he answered back.
“Thank you so much,” the mom gushed at Sonia.
“Of course. You’re welcome.”
“Let’s go, sweet pea.” The mom corralled him toward the door.
“Thank you,” she called again over the door jingle.
“Bye, Xander,” Sonia called, wa
ving as he stepped backward out the door.
“You’re so good with everyone,” I told Sonia, once the door closed behind them.
“It’s a gift,” she said, then asked, as if there had been no interruption, “So how is Trina involved?”
“Trina busted me. Trina’s the reason I’m here all summer.”
“Then I love Trina! Trina is my favorite!” Sonia chirped.
I couldn’t help smiling, but I shook my head at the same time.
“Spill it,” Sonia ordered.
“Okay, the short version is this. I took the copy of Jane Eyre from the library, which was stealing. I snuck it into Trey’s backpack because all the exam answers were in it, which was cheating. Trina turned it in and told on me, which was”—I held up my hands to make air quotes—“‘excelling in school citizenship.’” I dropped my hands. “So she’s the hero, Trey’s the innocent victim, and I’m the criminal.”
That was it, in a nutshell. But there was no nutshell big enough to contain how stupid and horrible I felt about it.
“So, not your finest decision-making,” Sonia stated.
“Nope,” I agreed. “Especially since we have this big-deal zero tolerance Honor Code at school and there was already a cheating scandal this year, on the midterms. But no one got busted. The principal and teachers were going crazy trying to piece it together and figure out who was responsible, but they never could.”
“They were outsmarted by the cheaters,” Sonia summarized.
“Exactly. It was like some bad teen movie where the administration becomes the laughingstock of the school and the sneaky kids get away scot-free.”
“I remember reading something about that in the Biweekly,” Sonia admitted.
“They were trying to get the guilty parties to confess for a more lenient punishment,” I explained. “That’s how desperate they were.”
Sonia raised her eyebrows at me, and I shook my head in response. “It didn’t work. No one came forward.”
A Kind of Paradise Page 10
