Chapter 9 Story Time
By last period, nothing had improved. I kept hearing whispers about new texts that had been posted, some from me, some from other people. I heard about them because even though my sense of dignity was long gone, I (unfortunately) still had my sense of hearing.
According to the scroll, I’d complained that Stephanie talked with her hands too much. (How much did I talk with my hands? I was suddenly very self-conscious.) And I’d insinuated that Brigid was a fake fan of some book series we’d read in class last year.
I didn’t remember saying either of those things.
But apparently I had.
As soon as the final bell rang, I grabbed my stuff and sped out the door. Thank goodness tomorrow was a holiday, so I had four whole days off. Maybe that would give this time to blow over?
I held that cheerful thought close to my heart as I focused on the next: Today was a library day, and I couldn’t wait to shelve books and bring a little order to the sudden chaos of my life.
The walk was cold. Dreary. And—like I was in some kind of horror novel—I kept hearing footsteps behind me. But it was just Grayson walking several paces back. Which made sense. He also spent a lot of time at the library.
Remembering how he’d (sort of) waited for me this morning, I considered slowing my stride.
We were going to the same place, after all.
But after the way I’d popped off at lunch—and he’d popped back—maybe it was best to keep my distance.
I clearly couldn’t control my mouth around him.
Either I wasn’t saying enough, or I was saying too much.
I couldn’t even figure out how I felt about him anymore.
Was I angry? Soppy? Resentful? In love? All of the above? Gah!
So I hunched my shoulders against the cold and pushed myself to move faster, crossing the big intersection (“big” as in it had an actual stoplight), hurrying past Seasonal Sweets, Deer Hill Dance, and the community center.
Finally, I reached the warm library, pausing in the entryway to unfog my glasses.
“Why are you gasping like that?” Mrs. Kauffman asked. “Did you run?”
“Just trying not to freeze to death,” I wheezed. Then I put on my glasses and tucked my belongings into my cubby.
She shook her head and smiled. “We haven’t even officially hit winter, Virginia.”
“When we do, you’ll find me rolling in here under seventeen layers. What’s the stuff arctic scientists wear?”
“Gore-Tex?”
“Yeah! It’ll be that and scarves.” I unwound my scarf and shoved it into my cubby, along with my bag. “By the way, can you order a couple of books for me? I checked but we don’t have them. The main branch does, though.”
“Sure!” Mrs. Kauffman looked up from signing me in. “What do you want?”
I went around to her side of the desk and gave her the titles of a couple of photography books I’d looked up. And then a couple of weaving books.
“Oh, weaving books! Are you—”
Just then, the door opened and Grayson walked in, bringing an icy blast of air with him. I ducked below the desk. Hopefully, he wouldn’t notice me.
“Hi, Grayson,” Mrs. Kauffman said mildly. “Good to see you.”
“Hi, Mrs. Kauffman.” He put a few books in the return pile and went to the table where he usually sat.
He hadn’t noticed me. Despair filled me and I sank the rest of the way to the floor. Why hadn’t he noticed me?
“Fix your face,” Mrs. Kauffman whispered. “And get off the floor. I don’t remember the last time anyone vacuumed.”
“What? Ew!” I scrambled up and wiped my hands on my jeans. “Anyway, I don’t know what you’re talking about. My face is fine. See?” I gave her my best neutral face.
“Oh please. You were staring like you always do. But this time with a side of …” She tapped her pen on the desk and studied me. “Is it ‘are you mad at me’ I’m seeing?”
I hadn’t come to the library to be attacked in this way! But okay, she had a point. “I mean, he might be. I snapped at him earlier. And actually, everyone is mad at me.”
“Well,” she said brightly, “at least you finally talked to him.”
I put my neutral face back on. “What?”
“Oh, don’t think I haven’t noticed the longing looks. And I don’t know if this is interesting to you at all, but he only comes here on days you’re volunteering.”
Wait. He what?
“Anyway.” Mrs. Kauffman cleared her throat, like she hadn’t just announced unicorns were real and carrot cake counted as a vegetable. “Get to work. We’re a busy library, you know.”
The only sounds in the whole building were the heater thrumming, Mrs. Kauffman’s computer whirring, and Grayson pulling a book off a shelf.
“Yeah, sure.” I hurried to take care of the books.
Halfway through my second cart, I pulled out my phone to check the time—and found a long string of texts from Knight.
Knight Errant:
Story time!
A while ago I was standing in line at the post office with my brother and we kept hearing this coo coo sound.
It was coming from a box on the counter! One of those little cabin-looking boxes with vents.
It was BIRDS.
Someone was shipping BIRDS.
And then it turned out my brother actually knew the guy shipping the birds because they graduated together … so we asked about the birds in the box and you’ll never guess what kind of birds they are. Not ever.
Okay where are you???? FEEL SUSPENSE!
Me:
OMG WHAT KIND OF BIRDS?
BALD EAGLES?
PENGUINS?
OSTRICHES?
Knight Errant:
None of those birds make a coo coo sound, Cardinal
But fine. I’ll just tell you.
They were RACING PIGEONS.
I sat down hard in one of the super-low kiddie chairs. Plastic squeaked precariously but held.
Me:
RACING PIGEONS!
I have so many questions
Knight Errant:
He tried to sell us a pigeon but we declined
Me:
Mistake
Imagine that alternate life! A world where you become a professional pigeon racer
Knight Errant:
I’m not sure I have it in me honestly. I bet it’s a very cutthroat career
Me:
Truly so glad we’re future BFFs so I can look forward to more of these weird stories.
Knight Errant:
Just remember you asked for this
Footsteps sounded on the thin library carpet as Mrs. Kauffman came around one of the shelves that had been blocking her view of me. “Are you okay?” She looked down at me with a wry expression. “You’re on the floor a lot today.”
“Technically I made it to a chair. But yeah, I guess this isn’t very far from the floor.” I unfolded myself from the tiny chair and put my phone back in my pocket.
“Do you need to go home early?”
“No!” My face was burning hot. “I’m fine. I’ve been looking forward to shelving books.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“I’m not exaggerating even a little,” I insisted. “Coming here is the highlight of my day. I’ll stay past closing if you want.”
“I do not want. I’m kicking you out at five.” She headed back around the bookcase and toward the table where Grayson was sitting. “Hey, so I wanted to talk to you about something… .”
Then her voice was too low for me to hear.
Torn between my desire to eavesdrop and my fear of getting caught, I chose cowardice.
I wheeled Parakeet to its spot, and then moved on to the next cart, Toucan.
Finally, there were no more books on bird carts, the stacks were straightened, and my phone alarm buzzed that it was five.
Mrs. Kauffman signed me out and I started home.
Outside, Grayson fell into step with me. “Just so you know …”
I looked at him from the corner of my eye. He was blurry, thanks to the limits of glasses, but I could still make out his tight, anxious expression. “What?”
“Mrs. Kauffman asked if I’d help decorate the Winter Jolly-Days booth, since I basically live at the library.”
My heart kicked. A few days ago, I’d have licked the bathroom floor for the chance to hang out with Grayson—and maybe utter more than a sentence or two to him. But after our exchange at lunch … after the way my crush on him had torpedoed my entire freaking life … I wasn’t so sure.
And it was true that he’d never really spoken to me before this. Definitely not when he’d been popular (I hadn’t seemed to exist, then). Not even when we were virtually alone at the library together.
“What did you say?” The words came out wary and rough.
“I said no. It sounds fun, but”—his throat bobbed—“I told you message received. I’m not going to intrude on your life.”
I clenched my jaw as we walked past Seasonal Sweets. “Then why are you telling me?”
“You know what?” His tone was sharp. “Fine. I can see why they dumped you. Enjoy being miserable and alone.” He picked up his pace and marched ahead of me.
“No one enjoys that!” I shouted.
He shot an irritated look over his shoulder, and I pulled my scarf over my nose and mouth so he couldn’t see the way my chin trembled. From the cold, obviously.
Then he just shook his head and walked away.
My phone buzzed just as I was closing my algebra book and opening my library book.
Knight Errant:
Can I tell you about my secret hobby?
Me:
Uh YEAH
Knight Errant:
Kind of like my drawings, I don’t usually share it. I only started in the last few months, actually
Me:
I FEEL SUSPENSE!
Knight Errant:
Okay, so you know how I like to read
And when I was telling you about the racing pigeons before
You said you liked my random stories
Me:
Yeah I was there
Knight Errant:
I can’t believe I’m telling you this. But …
I’m writing a book
Me:
REALLY!
Tell me about it!
I mean please.
If you want to.
You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to
But I want to know
AS YOU KNOW I LOVE READING.
Knight Errant:
Yes I DO know that
Which is one of the reasons I thought you might get it
Plus, you’re trying out photography so maybe you understand trying out writing too
I sat back on my desk chair and smiled. So what if the rest of my life was an endlessly burning tar pit? Knight wanted to tell me about his book—something he hadn’t told anyone else about.
It made me feel warm inside. Special.
Me:
Yeah I get it
And I’m listening
Tell me about your story
Knight Errant:
Well … it’s about a disgraced knight
Me:
A knight! I’m shocked
Knight Errant:
I know
Anyway he wants to restore his family honor, but he doesn’t know how
Because none of his family actually did anything wrong
Me:
Oooo, so where does he start??
Knight Errant:
I’m not sure
I’m a little stuck, I guess
I thought maybe you could help, as a fellow fantasy reader?
Me:
HMMMmmmm
Well I think first I’d ask why the disgraced knight thinks it’s his job to restore family honor
Especially if there’s not much he can do!
How was the family honor lost?
Knight Errant:
Good question
The king is the one who destroyed the knight’s family honor. He removed him from court and from the tourney lists and everything. Just because he could
The knight can’t touch the king, obviously
I think he just FEELS like he should do something, being a knight and all. He SHOULD have the ability to fix it
Me:
But he doesn’t really
Knight Errant:
No I guess not
Me:
Maybe he can do something else
Like, he THINKS he needs to restore the family name, but he ACTUALLY needs to prove his own worth to himself—he needs to make his own honor
Knight Errant:
Make his own honor.
Okay. I really like that.
I’m going to think about that for a bit
Me:
Have fun!!!
The warmth inside became a full-on miniature sun. Knight had asked for my help, and I’d said something … useful. Helpful. The fact that Knight decided to share his story with me—something that was clearly personal and important to him!—and cared about what I thought …
I smiled a little as Zooms pushed into my room and meowed.
“Hi, meow meow,” I said.
She hopped onto the bed and rooted around for my cleanest pajamas. Then she kneaded on them, claws popping out of the fabric with every biscuit she made.
“Mom’s not going to be happy you’re ruining my clothes.” Not that I made a move to stop her. Who was I to stand in the way of her opening a biscuit bakery made out of my pajamas?
Zooms, for her part, just kept kneading. This could take several minutes. I knew that from experience.
Knight Errant:
Okay idea!
There’s a princess.
And something’s going on with her … so the knight, feeling like he can’t do anything about his own situation, decides he wants to help her
But maybe … she doesn’t want his help
So when he tries to help her, he messes it up and she turns him away
Now he has to figure out how to make that right—or if he even should??
Me:
Why are there question marks on that?? That’s GOOD!
omg I can’t wait to read this!
Knight Errant:
Wait what
Me:
You heard—I mean read me!
I can’t WAIT!
Knight Errant:
Uhhhh okay brb I have to write a bunch I guess
And I’ve been drawing some art for it
Maybe I will share with you when I have something worth sharing
Me:
Story time is my new favorite future BFF thing!