Chapter Three
Penn
Today was Friday, my absolute favorite day at work.
I’d moved to San Diego to work at this branch of the library a few months ago, and because I was the most recent arrival, I didn’t have a set position like many of my coworkers.
I wasn’t running the circulation desk or on duty as the nonfiction specialist or the children’s librarian.
Every day was a new adventure, except for Friday afternoons.
Our children’s librarian was off then because her children had a half-day at school, so I got to do story hour.
I wasn’t sure I’d ever want to be a full-time children’s librarian.
There was so much more to the position than reading books with children and it hadn’t been my area of study at school.
But one afternoon a week only doing the fun part? Sign me up.
I’d spend all week finding the perfect books to share with the children. Sometimes, I’d choose based on a theme, like the season of the year or a particular color. Other times, I’d look for a type of rhyme I thought would be fun or a book that had a song with it. Today was a song day.
We had a hardcore group of children who came every week with their parents, some multiple days a week.
Library time was part of their schedule.
But, other than that, you never knew if you were going to have ten children total or thirty.
Today was closer to thirty because a local daycare was bringing their three-year-old class with them.
I sat down with the books at my side, looking at all the children and their grown-ups.
The first time I had a group this large, I was terrified, afraid the more kids, the more difficult it would be to get through the books.
It turned out to be one of the best story hours ever.
Now, I looked forward to field trip days.
“Good afternoon, everyone. I’m Librarian Penn. Are you ready for one of my favorite books?”
I introduced Going on a Bear Hunt, reading it just like it was any other story while sitting in my big comfy chair. The kids gave me their full attention. “And now we’re going to do it as a song. Who here likes to sing?”
By the time we were done, most of the kids were participating with the small motion dance that went with it, giggling and laughing.
All except two cubs in the back. I moved on to my second book, but my gaze kept wandering back to them.
I knew better than to make them the center of attention, trying to get them to engage.
If they weren’t participating, they had a reason.
I grew up in foster care. Sometimes, you just can’t pretend everything is happy and wonderful, and these little ones were giving the past-pretending vibe.
Story time over, I handed out coloring sheets to all the children and thanked them and their parents for coming then made my way toward the help desk, where I was stationed next. The younger of the two quiet cubs came over and pulled on my shirt.
“Hey, little one,” I said, squatting. “Did you like the story?”
He nodded.
“I share stories every week,” I said. “Next time, we’re doing stories about rain.” That hadn’t been my choice, but the whole library was doing a themed week as part of some initiative they got grant money for.
The cub next to him, who I assumed was his older sibling, asked if people were really scared of bears. That’s when I clocked what was happening. These were shifters in the human world, trying to figure out their spot in it. It wasn’t an easy place to be.
“No. This was just a story,” I said. “I happen to think bears are very nice. I’m not scared of them.”
The older one leaned in and smelled me. “Dog.”
They were careful not to ask if I was one.
I didn’t see who they came in with. During the story, no one was sitting with them, but someone had taught them to be cautious of humans while still bringing them into human spaces.
It was going to make their lives easier growing up, but I could see how difficult it was now.
“Close,” I said, righting myself. My knees were no longer what they should be, which was sad, given how young I was. “What do you think? Would you like to find some books about bears to bring home?”
And that’s when their adult showed up with three other children in tow, including an infant.
“Oh, I’m sorry I’m late. I was dealing with a blowout. I hope they weren’t giving you too much trouble.”
I assured her they weren’t and quickly learned that they were foster kids, just like I had been. Only, in their case, their foster parent didn’t have coldness in her eyes and seemed to genuinely care for them. She was a rabbit shifter, judging by scent.
“I hope we see you back next week.” I put it on my to-do list to find books with both rain and found families. Any bit of comfort I could give, I was there. “I need to go do boring grown-up stuff now.”
I thought back to when I was a kid and how my foster parents didn’t even pretend to care about me. Maybe that’s why I never sought out relationships. I was fine being alone…at least I didn’t disappoint myself.
When I reached the help desk, a young man with a big box was waiting for me. “I’m from Print Express. Can you sign for this?”
Normally, such deliveries were dropped off around back, but I could see he was nervous. Maybe it was his first day, or possibly he was running behind. Whatever the case, I saw no point in adding any pressure to his day when I could easily carry it to the office myself.
It wasn’t until he left that I realized the box wasn’t for the library at all. It was for the club Animals, a box of their menus.
It looked like I was taking a trip to Animals in the near future.