18. Fox #3
“Do you have proof of address?” the librarian asks.
Wendy already tore off for the kids’ section, leaving me at the desk.
Inside, the place has that smell, like old carpet that’s been baking in dusty heat for years.
But there’s posters and decorations up. Construction paper letters and pictures on the wall. Like they’re really trying.
“Oh, uh…” I frown. “Like a driver’s license, or something? Sure.” I fish out my wallet and hand mine over.
The librarian takes it and looks.
“I’m sorry,” she says. “But this isn’t a London Valley address.”
“Oh,” I say again. “It’s…yeah. I guess I forgot.” I’ve had the same one for years, don’t even remember where I got it. Honestly, it’s lucky I remembered to give her my real one.
“No problem.” She’s an older lady, kind-looking, with gray locs and a gold cross necklace.
Kinda reminds me of Aunt Latrice, actually, the one foster mom we had who didn’t seem to hate us.
Which makes it feel even worse to look dumb in front of her.
“A utility bill will do, if you have one? Like for water or electric. Or a paystub with your home address on it.”
“Ah.” I swipe at the sweat that’s dripping down the back of my neck.
There are fans going in here, but they don’t seem to be doing much but stirring the hot air around.
Maybe because there’s so many people just…
sitting at the tables. Not reading or anything, just staring into space with big bags of stuff on either side of their chairs.
Probably just waiting for 6 p.m. when the shelters open.
I remember those days.
“See, I don’t have either of those on me,” I explain. “Um, at the moment.”
Or ever, really. Obviously I don’t get paychecks for what I do.
And I’m not sure how exactly Pan’s got us operating out of Neverland—or how legal it is, I think, remembering that stack of mail he just threw away—but I’m pretty sure it doesn’t involve his or any of our names on the paperwork part.
If we’ve ever paid a water bill, then I haven’t seen it.
Hell, I don’t even know what address is on Kit and Blue’s body art licenses, but I’m pretty sure it’s not Neverland’s.
“LVPL requires proof of residence to give you an adult’s card, unfortunately,” the librarian goes on. “I’m assuming you’re over eighteen?” She smiles. “Well, actually, I just saw it on your license, so I know you are, Felix.”
My name. My heart squeezes just hearing it. I know it’s on my license, but I don’t think anyone’s called me that in—
“But our children’s cards are available to anyone under eighteen, no residency required.” She tilts her head back toward the kids’ area. “So if it’s just for your—”
“Sister,” I say quickly. Just so it doesn’t seem weird that I came in here with a kid.
“Right.” The librarian presses her lips together. “Your sister can get a children’s card that’ll give her access to any of our juvenile materials.”
I almost melt with relief. Or maybe that’s just the heat. “Uh, be right back.”
When I find her over in the kids’ corner, Wendy’s got a stack of books almost as tall as she is.
“Whatcha got?” I ask, peering at the covers. They all look kind of the same: purple borders, drawings of different girls in different historical clothes. There’s an Egyptian one, a Pilgrim, some kind of princess-looking one.
“I’m getting some nonfiction,” Wendy says. “What are you getting?”
“Oh, um…maybe I’ll just borrow one of those,” I say, half-joking. “They look pretty good.”
Wendy gives me this look. “You want to read the Girls Who Kicked Butt series?”
I shrug. “Kinda sounds interesting.” Wendy rolls her eyes, and I nod toward the desk. “C’mon, you can get your very own card.”
She sighs, but gathers her stack under her chin and trails me back up to the desk, where I watch her fill out the librarian’s sheet with a pen taped to a piece of yarn taped to the desk and then rock back and forth on her heels until the little plastic printer spits out her new card.
“Here you go, Wendy Darling,” the librarian says, handing her the card and pushing the stack of books forward. “They’re all yours.”
“Little light reading?”
“Huh?”
I’m so sucked into Badge of Glory on the TV that I almost drop my controller in shock. But it’s just Tink. He picks up one of the books from the stack that Wendy left on the coffee table and flips it around.
“Girls Who Kicked Butt,” he reads off the cover. “Huh.”
He chuckles.
“What?” I blink as something explodes on the TV and the screen flashes red—I’m dead. Damn, how long have I been playing? Wendy went to bed hours ago.
“Nothing. Just…not the kind of books I thought I’d ever see around here.” He puts it back on the table.
“Oh. Yeah.” I set down the controller and rub my eyes. “They’re Wendy’s. Or, I guess they’re the library’s. She said she was bored, so I took her.”
I shrug. Feeling suddenly embarrassed. Like he’s going to say something about libraries and I’m going to say the wrong thing back. I don’t know what, exactly, but—
“Library.” Tink picks up Wendy’s card from where it’s sitting on top of the books and looks at it. “Good thinking.” He stares at it a moment longer, then glances up at me. “That was nice of you, I mean. For her.”
I nod. “Yeah, no problem.”
And for some reason, some weird reason, I feel my face get hot.
I guess I’m just glad Tink thinks that.
That I’m nice.
Is all.