The Tiny Hero of Ferny Creek Library

by Linda Bailey

  “COME ON!” he yelled, breaking free of Eddie’s grip.

  Fortunately the adult Squishers were far too busy to notice a small black bug running helter-skelter along the wall, followed closely by a larger and much greener bug.

  Alfie charged underneath a book cart. Eddie was right on his tail. He dragged his little brother behind one of the cart’s wheels. “That’s IT! You STAY here!”

  “Shh!” said Alfie. “They’ll HEAR you!”

  But the children, like the adults, were far too busy to notice the bugs. There were six of them, kneeling on the floor.

  “What are you guys doing?” asked a new boy who had just arrived.

  “Making posters,” said Hazel. “Marigold thought it up. Want to make one? Here, look at mine.”

  She held it so the boy could see. Eddie and Alfie could see, too. It had drawings of books and book characters around the edges. In the middle were large printed letters that said:

  PLEASE

  SAVE

  THE

  LIBRARY

  Wesley, a boy Eddie knew from Room 19, spoke up. “Want to see mine?”

  It said:

  PLEASE

  SAVE

  THE

  FERNY CREEK

  LIBRARY

  “Hey!” said Hazel. “Cool.”

  “Yeah,” said Marigold. “Wesley’s printing even looks like the stickies, too.”

  That was just the start. The hubbub went on all day. Posters, buttons, chatter. In the small world of Ferny Creek Elementary, the story of the little yellow stickies was becoming a very big deal. It spread through the school like mayflies on a warm spring evening. Nobody quite understood what was going on. (Well, of course not. How could they?) But everyone was intrigued.

  The question on everyone’s mind was the same: “Save the Library from what?”

  That was the question the reporter from the Ferndale Sentinel asked when she visited the Library that afternoon.

  “Save the Library from what?” she asked Ms. Grisch, pen and notebook in hand.

  “Why are you asking me?” replied the Grischer. “Why don’t you ask . . . the Principal?”

  But the Principal, it seems, was busy elsewhere. He didn’t turn up in the Library till late afternoon. And when he did, he was bouncing on his toes.

  “Oh, Ms. Grisch,” he said. “Isn’t it wonderful? All this support, this interest in the Library?”

  The Grischer didn’t answer.

  “Yes, well . . . ,” said the Principal, “here’s what I wanted to tell you. Some parents have been asking—quite a few parents actually, and they’re meeting tonight—whether we might change the name of our Library. The teachers have asked the same thing. They all feel this is long overdue. So what do you think about changing the name of our Ferny Creek School Library to—”

  He paused for effect. “The . . . Louisa . . . May . . . Cavendish . . . Memorial . . . Library!”

  The Principal clapped gleefully, apparently hoping the Grischer would join in. “I spoke to Ms. Glossup, and it’s possible—oh, my goodness!—that Gregory Cavendish himself will come for the ceremony. We’ll go all out! Cookies, juice, balloons—the sky’s the limit! A party, Ms. Grisch.”

  “YAAAAAY!” yelled Alfie.

  “What?” said the Grischer. “WHAT? Did you hear that?”

  “Hear what?” said the Principal.

  “That squeaky sound?”

  “What squeaky sound? Ms. Grisch, are you quite—”

  “YAAAAAAAY!”

  “There it is again! Just like last week. The talking sticky! I showed it to you, Mr. Steadman, last Friday. Didn’t you hear that sound just now?”

  “Er . . . no,” said the Principal.

  What happened next wasn’t exactly clear to the bugs, but Mr. Steadman made the mistake of mentioning tea again.

  “Tea?” said Grischer. “Again with the tea? Will you please stop offering me tea, Mr. Steadman! Just . . . just . . . just stop it!”

  After the Principal left—he retreated very quickly—the Grischer phoned her brother.

  “That’s it,” she told him. “I’ve had it! I am leaving Ferny Creek, and I am never coming back.”

  Beneath the desk, Eddie was holding his brother in a four-footed headlock. There would be no more YAAAAYs from Alfie.

  “No, Robert, I’m not saying there’s a ghost here. I . . . well, to be honest . . . I don’t know what it is. All I know is, there’s something very peculiar in this Library that’s been against us from the start.”

  There was a silence.

  Then the Grischer stamped her foot. “No, it’s not just a few kids and stickies! Why don’t you come here and see for yourself? It’s teachers. Parents. Reporters. It’s the relatives of dead volunteers! Is that enough for you? Or shall I add Facebook and Twitter?”

  Under the desk, Eddie decided to let Alfie go. He made a zipper motion across his mouth, signaling silence.

  “Well, my advice is—drop the whole thing! Find something else to close. Ferny Creek Elementary School is attached to its library like gum to a shoe. And by the way, Robert, I heard your name mentioned here today—and not in a good way. Watch your step.”

  This time when the Grischer left, the door slammed shut behind her, as if it was hastening her on her way. It slammed loud enough to make even a bug jump.

  KA-BANG!

  CHAPTER

  29

  The Grischer was gone.

  It should have been a wonderful moment.

  “Does this mean . . . you DID it?” Alfie was hopping like a flea. “WOO, WOO, Eddie, she’s GONE! The Grischer’s gone. YAAAAAY!”

  Eddie knew he should be thrilled. He should be cheering with Alfie. But all he could think about, with the Library now safe, was the bug who had helped him save it.

  “Let’s go see Aunt Min,” he said to his brother. “Right now. Come on, hurry!”

  Filled with trepidation, they climbed the side of the desk.

  “Hello?” said Eddie through the keyhole. “Are you there, Aunt Min?”

  He waited. “Hello?”

  Alfie tried, too. “AUNTIE MIN?”

  The silence that followed lasted way too long. A sick feeling rose in Eddie’s belly. Why wasn’t she answering?

  “Is she okay?” whispered Alfie.

  They took turns calling her. They called till they were hoarse.

  No answer. All they could see through the keyhole was gloom. The only smell was rotting pear.

  “We have to figure this out,” muttered Eddie. “We have to get inside!”

  For Alfie’s sake, he kept his next thought private.

  No matter what we find.

  CHAPTER

  30

  When the door opened the next morning to the Ferny Creek Elementary School Library—soon to be known as the Louisa May Cavendish Memorial Library—a brand-new Squisher walked in.

  KA-BANG!

  Eddie and Alfie peeked around the desk leg.

  The new Squisher was short and slim, and to Eddie’s eyes, quite young. He had large, dark eyes and round glasses and a neat cap of short black hair. Eddie saw all this in a second, but the thing he really noticed was the man’s vest. He wore it over a crisp white shirt, and the thing Eddie noticed was how green it was. The vest was a rich, shiny green.

  KA-BANG!

  The Principal burst through the door, breathing hard. “Thank you so much for coming, Mr. Banerjee. We’ve lost two librarians in the last week, and we’re quite desperate.”

  The Squisher smiled. “I’m happy to help.”

  “Well then, here we are.” The Principal gestured around. “The books, the carpet, the desk, and so on. Is it . . . all right?”

  “All right?” said the Squisher. “Yes, it looks fine.”

  “Not too crowded? With . . . er, books?”

  “Oh, no, not at all.” The Squisher’s voice was low and pleasant. “Plenty of room for more books, I’d say.”

  “Oh,” said the Principal,
glancing around. He stared at a half-empty shelf. “Well, that’s odd. Er . . . do you have any . . . questions?”

  But the Squisher was already taking himself on a tour. Pointing at the desk, he smiled. “Beautiful wood!”

  He bent to touch the carpet. “Good and thick.”

  Sitting on the comfy couch, he bounced a couple of times. Then he patted the cushions. “I like bright colors in a library, don’t you?”

  Standing again, he wandered to the bookshelves. He bent to peer at the titles. He ran his hands over the spines.

  “Some excellent new books here,” he said, pulling one from the shelf. “Someone’s taken a lot of care.”

  “Oh, yes,” said the Principal. “That was our Ms. Laurel. She cared a great deal about books, and she wanted the very best.”

  “I can see that,” said the Squisher. As he turned from the shelf, something caught his eye.

  “Is that . . . Miss Cavendish’s cabinet?” he asked.

  “Oh, dear.” The Principal wrung his hands. “How did you hear about that?”

  “My wife,” said the Squisher, smiling. “She went to school here. She knew Miss Cavendish. I’ve heard all the stories.”

  “You have?” The Principal’s voice sounded strangled,

  “Oh, yes. Even that last day in the Library when she . . . you know.” The Squisher let his head drop slowly forward.

  “Oh,” said the Principal. “That. Yes.”

  A long pause followed.

  The Principal took a deep breath. “You’re not . . . I mean . . . well, that is to say . . . you’re not afraid of ghosts, are you?”

  The Squisher laughed. “Ghosts? Do you mean Miss Cavendish?” He laughed again. “I don’t believe in ghosts, Mr. Steadman. But if Miss Cavendish ever comes calling in this Library, I will be tickled pink to meet her. And if she brings Charlotte Brontë, all the better.”

  “Charlotte—oh, you mean the dog?” The Principal chuckled happily. “Yes, of course. All wonderful nonsense, isn’t it? I’m glad you’re so sensible. Especially after—well, never mind that. I just want you to know that we’re very happy to have you here, Mr. Banerjee. Welcome to Ferny Creek!”

  He shook the Squisher’s hand for an extra-long time. Then he left with a spring in his step.

  “I LIKE the new Squisher,” said Alfie.

  “Let’s wait and see,” said Eddie. The Squisher did sound good. He liked the couch, he liked the books, he liked the Library Ghost.

  But Eddie’s thoughts were still on Aunt Min. It was hard to concentrate on anything else.

  The first class to meet the new Squisher was second grade. They stared at him with curiosity as they sat on the story-time carpet. Eddie and Alfie watched from the desk leg.

  “You can call me Mr. B if you like,” said the Squisher.

  B for books, thought Eddie.

  A child raised a hand. “How long are you staying?”

  “Good question,” Eddie whispered to Alfie. “That’s what I wanted to ask.”

  “I don’t know,” said the Squisher. “Right now I’m here for the day.”

  He held up a book. “Has anyone read this book? Do you recognize the cover?”

  No one spoke.

  The Squisher started to read. “‘When Mr. Frederick C. Little’s second son was born, everybody noticed that he was not much bigger than a mouse. . . .’”

  Eddie jumped. His whole body sang. Was it possible? Out of all the books in the Library, Mr. B had chosen Stuart Little. It was like a sign! Suddenly Eddie knew with complete certainty who this Squisher was going to be. Mr. B wasn’t just any ordinary Squisher. Mr. B was—

  The New Librarian!

  Alfie seemed to know it too. “Come ON!” he told Eddie. “Let’s get CLOSER!”

  And once again, Alfie did the unthinkable. Risking his life—and Eddie’s, too—he charged right into the open.

  “NOOO!” hollered Eddie. But it was too late. All he could do was dash after his brother, who had already reached the octopus-thing where all the wires met up. By the time Eddie got there, Alfie had run off again! Eddie finally caught up near the story-time chair. He tackled his brother and dragged him out of sight.

  Thank goodness for Stuart Little! When Eddie looked around, he discovered to his enormous relief that nobody—not one single child—was looking at him or Alfie.

  Everyone was looking at Mr. B.

  And Mr. B was, of course, looking at Stuart Little.

  So nobody saw Eddie and Alfie. But from their new position under a book rack, they now had a perfect close-up view of the children’s faces. Here’s what they saw. The children’s eyes were wide, their chins were lifted, their mouths were slightly open. They were only doing what any Squisher does when listening to a story, of course. But Eddie had never seen it so clearly before.

  He also noticed how the children were sitting. Some of them leaned against a friend or threw an arm over another child’s shoulders. A boy at the edge flung his legs out straight and leaned back on his elbows. Noticing this, Alfie flung out his legs, too.

  And Eddie? He leaned forward, listening to Stuart with every molecule in his body.

  And as he listened, he forgot about being in the Library, about chasing a naughty brother, about having an aunt in a drawer. He forgot all his worries and problems. He even forgot about being a bug. For the time he was listening, Eddie was a mouse like Stuart Little, living with an ordinary family in a pleasant house in New York City.

  The New Librarian’s voice was warm and inviting. Even better, he could change it in an instant to the voices of the characters in the story—kids’ voices, lady voices, and a very believable mouse voice for Stuart. Mr. B didn’t just read the story. He became the story.

  Aunt Min was right. This was magic.

  CHAPTER

  31

  Maybe it was hearing Stuart Little that did it.

  Or maybe it was the New Librarian with his kind brown eyes and his shiny green vest.

  Or maybe it was the big, ripe blueberry that fell from a ziplock bag in the pocket of a kindergarten boy who arrived after recess in the Library. It bounced and rolled under the desk.

  “WOW!” said Alfie.

  One of these things—or maybe all three—made Eddie stand a bit straighter. It made him breathe more deeply and relax.

  And that’s when he got his idea for Aunt Min. It formed in his mind so suddenly, he felt almost dizzy.

  Would it work? Would he have enough time? He wanted to try it now, right away. Would it work?

  He was shaky with tension and hope.

  As he gathered his tools, Alfie badgered him with questions. “Whatcha DOING, Eddie? What’s GOING ON?”

  No time to explain! Fortunately, Eddie had everything he needed, right there under the desk. He got to work.

  Somewhere in the room he could hear the New Librarian talking to kindergarten about dinosaur feathers. Interesting as that was, Eddie blocked it out. Then he heard some kind of game, with the kindergarteners chanting and stomping. He ignored that, too. And finally there was Alfie, with his nonstop chatter. Eddie barely heard.

  “Concentrate!” he told himself.

  He worked harder and faster than he’d ever worked before. When lunchtime came, he was ready. The bell rang. The children bustled out to play. The New Librarian shelved books and left.

  Eddie started his climb up the desk. This was the dangerous part.

  KA-BANG!

  He flinched at the sound. Someone was at the door. He could hear voices.

  If anyone spotted Eddie—if anyone took a good look—it was all over.

  Up he climbed as quickly as he could manage, not daring to look around or down or anywhere at all—

  Until he reached the drawer.

  “Hey, EDDIE!” said Alfie. “Can I HELP now? PLEEEASE!”

  He had followed right behind. Brave Alfie! Together the two brothers finished the job.

  Staring at the results, Eddie knew they had done everything they could. Th
e rest was up to fate. They scooted back down and hid under the desk. Eddie crossed his antennae. Hoping . . .

  Third grade was creating a play about pioneers. The New Librarian wandered among them, helping with research.

  “Please,” whispered Eddie. “Please come over here and look at the desk.”

  But Mr. B wandered away. Eddie tried to will him over.

  “Heeeeere,” he whispered. “Pleeeeeease.”

  Alfie whispered, too. “Heeeeere.”

  The minutes dragged past. Eddie paced restlessly back and forth beneath the desk. Finally he saw what he’d been longing to see—the New Librarian’s gray-and-tan running shoes, coming his way. A pair of smaller shoes ran behind. Pink with curly laces.

  “Let’s see,” said the New Librarian. “I’m sure there’s some tape here somewhere.”

  Eddie tingled with anticipation.

  “Hey!” said a girl’s voice. “Look! A yellow sticky.” Her curly-laced feet ran around the desk.

  “Wow!” she said. “It’s one of those stickies with the funny writing. It’s stuck to the drawer. Is this Miss Cavendish again? Ooh!”

  The New Librarian laughed. “It’s only an ordinary sticky. Let’s have a look.”

  There were more shoes around the desk now as other children noticed what was happening.

  “Hey!” said a voice. “Over here, everyone! Sophie found a new sticky.”

  More shoes. And more.

  The chatter rose, along with the excitement. “Is it her?” asked the children. “Is it the ghost?”

  “No ghost,” said the New Librarian. “Just this little sticky that says . . . well, what does it say?”

  “It says ‘ope-u,’” said Sophie.

  Eddie was so annoyed, he almost dashed out to say so. He had written it very clearly in blueberry juice:

  open

  “Open,” said the New Librarian. “It says ‘Open.’”

  “Open what?” someone asked.

  Curious, the children pushed forward. Within seconds the desk was surrounded. The huge Squisher legs blocked out the light, causing the area under the desk to grow dark. Alfie backed nervously into the center, making the kind of twitchy movements you might make if you were surrounded by titanosaurs.