The beginning of a book I had started but never finished:
I bent down and fell against the wall between the two bookshelves in the corner. I tipped my head back against the wall and closed my eyes. I stared at the red back of my eyelids. It’s all over. It’s all over. I thought. I breathed a deep sigh. No more exams, no more school, no more homework…for two whole weeks. Next time I’d see Hell Home it would be a new year.
I let my arms fall to my sides, completely relaxed. Sort of. I was a little uncomfortable.
I pushed myself off the ground, turned to my left and looked around.
The Harksville Public Library was not only the biggest in Northern California, but probably the most organized. This was where I went to everyday after school. I’d sit at the round tables up front and do my homework, then retreat to the far back of the library to either read or write on my laptop. This corner was my favorite. It had enough room to fit a large, squishy bean bag and was at the edge of my favorite section-Poetry and Song writing. It was also hidden behind a shelving unit that was long enough to make it seem as if nothing was behind it, so no one ever came here. It was probably the darkest part of the library since there was no light attached to the ceiling like there was in all of the sections before three rows ahead. And that just added to the fact that the carpets were dark grey and the shelves matched the light grey walls. It had a nice, secluded feeling to it.
There was a problem. I usually keep my favorite bean bag back here so I don’t have to drag it back and forth. But for some reason, it wasn’t here. Heh, a librarian probably brought it back to the front.
I shrugged and made my way to the end of the shelving unit. I grasped my fingers around the side as I swung around and—Smack! I slammed into something and fell back against the bookshelves. My head hit the metal with a thunk and my left arm flew into the air and back at the shelves. I shrank down. My dark brown hair was tossed all over my head.
Slowly, I lifted my right arm to my head and rubbed it where it had hit. Then I pushed a large clump of hair out of my face and looked up.
Sitting across from me leaning against the opposite shelves in almost the exact same position was a kid with his grey hood pulled over his head. He had one hand under his hood massaging his head and leaning on the other for extra support.
“Ow…” he said in a low, crackly voice. He pushed back his hood to reveal a head of about a hundred near-black braids askew in all different directions, flopping down on his brown skin.
He began to stretch his head up but stopped suddenly. He saw me looking at him.
 Flighte · Wed May 20, 2009 @ 11:38pm · 0 Comments |
