[Note: this is an exerpt from my NaNoWriMo November 2008 novel. This scene takes place in Act I.]
Technically, eating in the library was not allowed. Mrs. Hudson probably knew that I did, but she never said anything. I think she felt sorry for me. I kept my lunch covered in my bookbag on the table and sneaked one item at a time onto my lap. I passed bite-sized pieces of sandwiches and chips into my mouth when I was sure she wasn’t looking. Today brought one piece of good news. Mini Snickers bars. I must have been given Ellie’s lunch by mistake. I saved them as a reward for making it through the ham sandwich. I passed pieces of it to the sides of my mouth while looking blankly at the book in front of me. I had read it before. The library didn’t have much of a science fiction collection.
A corner of the spell book was sticking out of my bookbag. I felt an impulse to get up and chuck the worthless thing in the trash.
I closed my eyes and could see the algebra classroom clearly in my mind like I hadn’t left. The fluorescent lights and industrial carpet seemed muted and softened in that particular room. I spent most of my days and all of my nights in algebra class, inhaling her strawberry shampoo, counting freckles on her shoulders, studying how she chewed on her pen caps during tests. Heather did not cherish secret passion for me. Heather did not know that I existed. Nothing had changed. Believing in a book, chanting a few nonsense words, and burying some random junk in the mulch at midnight did not turn the natural order of the world upside down.
The library door opened, and I focused back on the pages in front of me, pretending to be busy. Sleeping in the library was not allowed either. I saw purple moving in the edges of my vision. A group of football letter jackets were lurking around the shelves. They looked as misplaced as a red dress at a funeral. I thanked myself for choosing to sit in front of the circulation desk today. My hiding place felt exposed. I didn’t want it to be known that this was my place.
The hulking purple group was Derek Miller, Matt Mahoney, and Brad Anderson. Brad was as solid as a concrete block and had eyes which looked in opposite directions. When Brad laughed at a joke, it was 10 seconds after everyone else had gotten it. Matt had a mouthful of broken braces and stiff spiky hair to match. We used to be friends when we were little kids in Boy Scouts. Matt’s mission in high school was to ensure that nobody remembered that. Derek was golden perfection.
I frowned in deep concentration at the book. I stopped chewing and let my mouth stay disagreeably full of ham sandwich. Being motionless helped my invisibility, I hoped.
“Hey, buddy.”
The smooth, low voice was punctuated by the slam of a heavy bag onto the table. Derek Miller eased himself into the chair across from me and stretched his arm casually across the chair next to him. Matt and Brad slouched at a different table, close enough to hear everything. Brad’s face was empty and piggish. Matt’s eyes gleamed with malice.
“Mind if I join you?”
“I have a lot of work to do,” I muttered, lamely.
Derek smiled. He was one of those people who are born with absolutely straight teeth.
“Of course. I wouldn’t want to hold you back on your
Ender’s Game book report.”
He leaned the chair back on two legs and snatched a book from the shelf behind him, a volume of Encyclopedia Brittanica. I glued my eyes back on my book and hoped that they would just get tired of the game and leave. It was fairly typical for Matt to do this kind of thing, in less subtle ways, but Derek had never spoken to me before. He didn’t know me.
Derek was at ease from what I could see in my periphery. He had the encyclopedia propped at eye level and was paging through as if it were a magazine. Brad rested like a lump and breathed noisily. Matt sat up straight, poised to pounce, occasionally slurping spit through his braces.
I don’t know how long we sat there. Five minutes, at least. I counted the ticks on the wall clock. I swallowed the ham sandwich bite somehow and left my mouth salty and parched. The rest of it was in my lap and partly hidden by my fist, and I longed for a way to make it disappear without wrinkling the plastic bag and giving it away. We sat stiffly, except for Derek, who might as well have been lounging on a living room couch.
Mrs. Hudson left her post at the circulation desk. Derek set his book down, leaned forward, and snapped my book shut with one finger. He was so close to me that I could smell the musky odor of his hair gel. His blonde hair was plastered down neatly as a Ken doll’s. I could see every pore and line in his skin. The edge of a pack of Marlboros peeked through an inside jacket pocket.
“What, exactly, do you think you’re doing, little buddy?” he said.
“What are you talking about?” My voice had a shrill edge that I hated.
“Let me give you some words of advice. She belongs to me. Drop your loser fantasies now before it’s too late. One more move from you and I’ll break your arms.”
He smiled graciously, as if he had just bestowed an incredible compliment.
“You’re mixing me up with someone else,” I sputtered.
Derek snaked his hand closer to me in an unhurried way, and for a panicked moment I thought he was going to grab my hand or latch onto my arm, and I couldn’t move even though I would have had plenty of time to do so. He plunged his hand into my bookbag and emerged with the mini Snickers bars. He winked at me, jerked his head at Matt and Brad, and the three walked out of the library.
From Chapter One:
