Chapter 5 #2
“That’s offensive to every fantastic librarian or library assistant on the planet. If there are other libraries in the universe,
then you’ve offended them too. This is a perfectly respectful, enlightening job, and plenty of good comes from those who help
people find the perfect books. What if this is exactly what I want to do with my life? What if I’m happy just as I am? Why
can’t you support me?”
Percy didn’t say anything for a few seconds, and she wondered if she’d been too harsh. But she was sick of Percy telling her
how to live her life.
Finally he asked, “Are you happy, Stella? ’Cause I don’t think you are. Just think about the offer, okay? I’ll email you the
details. It’s a great opportunity.”
Stella clenched and unclenched her jaw. She couldn’t picture herself living in Miami and definitely not working for upscale
clients. But Percy was correct about one thing: She wasn’t exactly happy. “I’ll think about it.”
“You will?” So much relief filled his words.
The phone beeped in her ear, and she pulled it away from her face to see that Ariel was calling. “Hey, that’s Ariel. We’ll
talk later.”
“Think about it!” Percy said. “Don’t make me come up there.”
“Wow, Percy,” she said dryly. “That’s such a threat. I’d love to see you, but I gotta go. I love you. Bye!”
“Love you too.”
She switched the call. “Ariel, you still there?”
Music played in the background. “I was about to hang up and text instead.”
Stella groaned. “Percy called. He wants me to take a job in Miami.”
“Miami!” Ariel gasped. The background music lowered. “That’s in another state! No way, you’re not leaving me here. I won’t let you. I mean, unless it’s your dream, but please say it’s not your dream. I’d miss you, and it’s Miami! That’s totally not your vibe.”
Stella laughed. “And what is my vibe?”
Ariel paused. “Small-town cozy book nerd with extraordinary writing skills?”
Stella stopped smiling. “You think I have extraordinary writing skills?” As she repeated Ariel’s statement, words popped out
of the ashes in the fireplace, smoky gray and wispy. They waved like echoes of flames and slid out of the hearth and across
the floor toward the windows. Imagination. Tell me. Pages of you.
“Not that you’ve let me read much, but, Stella—and we’ve never really talked about this—you have a gift with words. You know what I’m saying? It’s not like regular people. You can’t possibly have that gift and not be meant to
use it.”
Other than her mother, Ariel was the only person Stella had ever told about her ability to see words and how they came to
her. She trusted Ariel with her secret because she had always embraced Stella, oddities and all. Stella had no interest in
opening the door to the warmth and excitement of magic she’d shared with her mother, but Ariel saw Stella’s gift as celebratory
and sensational. Even so, Stella had never felt safe enough to tell anyone else about it, never wanted to give the words more
attention than necessary.
“Hey, are you still with me?” Ariel said.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m here,” Stella said. “It’s just that I . . . Well, I’ve never thought of my words as something I could use
for anything. Other than for myself, of course.”
“Maybe it’s time you start thinking about it,” Ariel said. “How about over Chinese takeout tonight. My treat? I can bring
it over.”
“Order my usual?” Stella said.
“You got it! I’ll see you around six.”
Ariel disconnected, and Stella walked to the living room windows. She stared out at the backyard. She’d spent her whole life
filling notebooks with words and stories and maps and colors and hadn’t thought there could be something more to it, not since
her mother left. She had been trying so hard to be normal and ignore that the words carried more meaning for her life. Was
that why they were coming so frequently now, why the violet ones were so aggressive and fierce? Was something inside her ready
to be unleashed?
Stella hugged her arms around her middle. It didn’t seem to matter if she was ready for what was coming or not. It was coming
regardless.
Stella and Ariel sat on the living room floor on one side of the coffee table. An assortment of Chinese to-go boxes were situated
on top of magazines to keep from making a mess on the table. For the hundredth time eating like this with Ariel, Stella was
reminded she should buy place mats, but for now, the dated magazines would suffice.
Using her chopsticks like she’d been using them her whole life, Ariel scooped vegetable fried rice out of a container without
dropping a single grain in her lap. Stella, on the other hand, fumbled her chicken and broccoli like she was playing with
her food. At this rate, she’d still be eating at midnight.
Ariel put down her container and stabbed her chopsticks into the rice. “Hold them like this,” she said, adjusting the position
of Stella’s chopsticks between her fingers. “Yes, like that. Now open and close them.”
Stella copied Ariel’s finger motion and groaned. “Why is this so difficult for me?”
“Tonight in particular?” Ariel asked. “You’re giving off a weird vibe tonight. You’ve got something else on your mind. What
is it? Percy and the job? Or are you still upset about the journal and Wade?”
Stella’s exhale fluttered the pages of the closest magazine. “All of the above. It’s been a strange few days,” she admitted,
thinking about the happenings at the library combined with the feeling that her foundation was shifting sands beneath her,
forcing her to reevaluate her life.
“Tell me about it,” Ariel said, looking at Stella with large blue eyes.
Stella picked up an egg roll and took a huge bite. She chewed slowly, debating what to tell Ariel and what to leave out. As
she swallowed, she decided to share it all, even the things that didn’t make sense.
“I’ve been thinking about what you said about Wade and how I’m the one keeping him around in my thoughts, which stunned me because you’re right. I’ve been carrying around anger and hurt
because I wanted to, even though I said I didn’t, which kinda depresses me. I’ve been blaming him, and yet . . . it’s me.
“Percy thinks I should take a job in Miami, and I don’t want to because, well, I don’t want to, and Arnie thinks I should go back to college to get another degree or at the very least a certification. Both of them
believe I’m settling for my library job, that I should be doing more.”
Ariel took a bite from her egg roll and chewed slowly. She sipped her water and then asked, “What do you think? Are you settling for the library?”
“Yes and no,” Stella answered honestly. “I love being there. I love the books and the words and helping people find what they’re looking for, but Arnie and Percy aren’t wrong exactly. I’m not trying to do anything more.”
“Are you interested in doing more?” Ariel asked.
“I haven’t been,” Stella said. Then she looked around the living room, at the dated throw pillows and fading wallpaper. She
brushed her hand against the flattened carpet that should have been replaced years ago. “But I’m starting to believe it’s
time for more. Last night I forgot my purse after we closed the library. I went back to get it, and I heard voices coming
from the archives, so I went down there to see what Arnie was doing because I heard a woman—”
Ariel gasped. “Oh, please don’t tell me you caught him getting frisky!”
Stella laughed and grimaced. “Yikes, but thankfully no. There were three strangers down there—a boy, a man, and a woman. They
looked like they were wearing costumes, and it startled me. I slipped and knocked myself out—”
“Say what? Why am I just hearing about you being knocked out?”
Stella gingerly touched the back of her head. “I’m fine. It left a knot, but that’s not the interesting part. When I came
to, Arnie was there, but the people were gone, and he said there was no one else in the library.” She stopped talking and
waited for Ariel to comment.
Confusion moved across her friend’s face. “What does that mean? The people had already left by the time you came to?”
Stella shook her head. “Arnie said there hadn’t been anyone there, so maybe I . . . dreamed it?”
“Dreamed it?” Ariel’s face scrunched. “How could you have dreamed people being there if that’s the reason you fell?”
Stella shrugged. She’d asked herself the same question. “It’s not like I could prove there were people there. But they seemed real to me, and when I tried to ask Arnie about it again today, he diverted.”
Ariel reached for her stir-fried veggies and ate with rapt attention. “You think he’s hiding something?”
“Maybe. Then there’s the words.”
“What about the words?”
Stella frowned, wondering how to explain the heightened frequency and intensity of how the words interacted with her. “There’s
a lot more of them recently. Ever since I burned the journal.” Her chest tightened, and her eyes widened. “What if this is
happening to me because I”—her voice quieted—“murdered the words?”
Ariel choked on a slice of glazed carrot. After drinking a huge gulp of water, she cleared her throat. “You didn’t murder anything. But you might be on to something about this happening after the journal.” She put her container on the table and
wiped her hands on a napkin. “Change usually comes after a rock-bottom moment, and I think burning the journal was you hitting
bottom and making a decision to change. Maybe the words are trying to tell you something.”
Stella leaned back on her hands and stared up at the fan blades spinning above them. “Trying to tell me what?”
“Maybe it’s time you use them for more than your journals?” Ariel asked.
Something akin to inspiration quivered in her chest. “Percy would laugh me out of town if I told him I wanted to be a writer.”
The realization stunned her. Did she want to be a writer? She’d never thought of herself that way, but she’d filled hundreds of pages and not just with random
words. She’d written poetry and short stories and even a few novel-length ideas she’d started but never finished.