As I groggily crawled down the stairs the morning after, I was greeted by Al Roker, naturally. His voice blared through the TV as if it was better to yell like that to reach every possible audience member.
"Mason!" Georgia, my five year-old sister, latching on to my leg and looked up at me. I grinned, despite the fact that it was eight a.m. and I was less than awake.
"Hey squirt." I said, trying to gently remove her from my leg, which I was sure must be turning purple under the squeeze of her grip.
"Guess what mommy said?" She released me and sat on the floor, looking up at me with her huge brown eyes.
"What?" I said, mustering up as much enthusiasm my sleeping brain could muster.
"You are taking me to the library." She said, happy to have accurately delivered this order from my mother to me.
"I see I have no choice." I said grinning.
"We have to get there in time for story hour." She said intensely, eying my leg again, should I disagree.
"When's that?"
"Eight-thirty."
I winced. "I don't know, Georgia-"
"They're reading James and the Giant Peach!" she said, giving me the puppy eyes.
I sighed and ruffled her hair. "Alright fine. But only until I have to go to work."
She gave me one last leg-hug and sat in front of the TV once again.
My parents were in the kitchen, ignoring Al Roker. I took an apple out of the perfectly arranged bowl, annoying my mother as the banana rebelliously fell next to an orange.
"Morning Mason." My mom said. I mumbled sleepily. She gave me a look.
"Good morning." I said, sitting down next to my dad, who was completely engrossed in the Knightsville Daily. The town was so small, the paper belonging to it published everything they could to fill out the thin pages. I saw that the featured article was that the town hall repainted it's fence.
"I hear Georgia’s told you about the library?" My mom said, pursing her lips over her tea.
"Yeah, James and the Giant Peach."
"I thought you had to work?" My father asked, directing his serious stare from the paper to me.
"I do, just not until noon."
"Better take Georgia soon, she might latch onto you again." My mom said.
I smirked and bit into my apple, glancing out the windows, as it was uncommonly cloudy for the month of August.
"He beat me again." My dad said quietly, shaking his head at Al Roker and his weekly forecast. My mom and I exchanged grins.
My dad was the weatherman for the Knightsville Community Television. That might sound cool, but it only is when he's getting the weather correct. Most of the time, he says rain and it never comes. Or he promises wet citizens sunshine but it pours. That doesn't particularly make him the most loved person in town, but probably most tolerated. For as long as I can remember, my dad has thought that him and Al Roker have had a personal battle over weather accuracy. I guess it became a personal battle when my has lost more times than he's won. I find it kind of amusing, actually.
In an attempt to change the subject from the weather (which was by no means a casual topic in this house), my mother displayed her talent for acquiring town gossip.
"Did you hear, Sam, that the Hawthorn's granddaughter is staying with them for the summer?"
"Oh really?" he said bitterly.
"I think she's sixteen, just like you, Mason." my mother went on.
"Oh yeah?" I said passively, wondering vaguely about my bitter apple.
"She doesn't have a license, so she rides around on this cute turquoise bike with a basket. We saw her at the cafe yesterday, remember?"
I almost choked, coming to the realization that that was the girl from yesterday with the books. I hadn't realized that my mom had noticed her as well, like I had thought her my own little secret. But if my mom knew about her, the whole town must also.
"Oh yes. How long is she staying?" My dad said, studying the golf scores in the Sports section.
"For the summer." she turned to me. "You should go and say hello, Mason, make her feel like home." I wanted to cringe at her happiness in the prospect of her getting me and knew friend. She didn't like my friends from school, for whatever reason that was that I would never understand, so anyone she thought was up to snuff she went out of her way to make me meet them. This, though was different. This wasn't some private-school, sweater-vest kid that she was trying to shove at me, this was . . . that girl. And I'd already made up my mind to talk to her; if my mom got involved she might scare her away. And I would die a lonely old cat collector. The only way to throw off my mother was to do the opposite she expects.
"I think I will."
"That's wonderful." She gushed. "Her name is Julia-"
"Mason we are going to miss the story hour!" Georgia whined from the doorway. I quickly got out of my seat, happy to have an excuse to get out from under my mom's matchmaking.
Georgia was nagging me all the way there that we were going to be late, and she didn't stop until I dropped her off at the reading room, where James and the Giant Peach was already underway. I left the company of the mothers to the other kids to immerse myself within the dusty shelves of fiction.
I did a little personal fist pump at the arrival of a new Stephen King, quickly taking it off of the shelf and tucking it under my arm. I was about to move into the narrow aisle, but the person sitting behind it stopped me in my tracks, and caused me to retreat back behind the shelf.
The girl. Her long wavy hair, the same book as yesterday in her hands, her eyes moving like a typewriter back and forth. She looked so comfortable around all the books, as if she was a chameleon with only one shade of protection.
Something in me was nagging that I should say something to her, remembering the confident determination I'd had last night to say something. Where was that now, in my time of need? It was still here. I could say something. It couldn't hurt, right? I brushed my hair out of my eyes before rounding the corner again, finding her in the same position. I froze in front of her, my brain going nuts, but my body seemed content with just standing there wordlessly. She looked up, to my horror. She looked at me, from my sneakers to my eyes, and when she got there she smiled. I was about to say something, but she beat me to it.
"Hey I know you. You were at the cafe yesterday." She said cheerfully. I swallowed, feeling blush creep up my face, exposing the embarrassment I was trying to hard to conceal. My hand involuntarily went up to my hair again, where I brushed it away from my eyes.
"Yeah I saw you . . . you were reading The Book Thief, right?"
Her eyes lit up, making me feel a little better.
"Yeah it's so good. Have you read it?"
"Like four times, it's one of my favorites." I said quickly. She looked kind of impressed with that, calming my nerves a little bit.
"What happens at the end, is it sad?"
I sat down across from her, still clutching the Stephen King book. If there was one thing I could talk to anyone about, it was books, so this was easy for me.
"What part are you at? Because it says before you even get to the end-"
"I'm at the part where the Jewish boy, Max, comes in."
"That's a good part. You have a long way to go."
"I know . . . wait it says the ending before you get to it?"
"Yeah, I guess death doesn't like suspense."
She laughed, which made me smile. Not only was she pretty, she read too. And she seemed really nice. Her eyes were so blue, I hoped I wouldn't get too distracted to talk.
She put out a hand. "I'm Julia."
I hesitated, as I've never shook hands with anyone that wasn't over thirty-five. I did anyway, amused by her delicate grip.
"Mason."
"Nice to meet you Mason. Stephen King I see?"
I handed the book to her and she examined it, reading the back with a suspicious look on her face, as if she expected it to not pass her inspection. She gave it back to me.
"I read his book on writing." she said, her eyebrows pulled together. "He's an . . . interesting character."
I smiled. "Yeah I think he's nuts, but I like his books too much to care. Plus, every writer's a little crazy."
"Amen brother." She said laughing, high fiving me.
I'd never been around anyone, much less a girl, that was this easy to talk to. I'd only known her for ten minutes, but I felt like she was genuinely good person.
There was a silence when someone walked past the shelves, their eyes glazing over us.
"Do you like it here in Knightsville?" I asked. Maybe my mom was rubbing off on me, but it just seemed like something to say.
"I suppose you've heard about my arrival like everyone else? I'm surprised how fast news travels. It's beautiful, regardless. It's a vacation for me, but I can only imagine living here all the time."
"Tiny town, thin walls, we have no secrets. I wouldn't be surprised if we were on the front page of the paper tomorrow."
"You have secrets?" She asked playfully.
"Well it's not a secret anymore that I buy an extra box Girl Scout cookies when my parents aren't looking, but I'm not the worst of the bunch."
I'd made her laugh again, which was a promising sign that we were actually getting along, and she didn't think I was too much of a geek.
"I'm very happy to be here though. Everyone's so friendly. Especially boys who lurk around the library reading Stephen King."
"Glad to be of service."
She smiled at she rummaged through the book bag next to her, taking out a pocket watch.
"Ooh it's past lunch, I should get back home. It was great talking to you . . . Mason, right?"
"Yeah, it was great talking to you too."
She stood up, and so did I, only making myself more awkward.
"I'll see you around, Mason." She said, as she gave me one last smile and walked back through the shelves disappearing. I smiled to myself as I glanced at the shelves around me, every old book's faded cover looking a little more bright that it had twenty minutes ago.
Maybe you should teach me. Very interesting story.... It seems like romance or something I didn't catch the genre. Keep writing you're very good at it. I didn't catch many spelling erors although it sounded a little weird when you used 'muster' twice in the begining. Thats all I caught, happy writing!