The Continuous Road Of Life

The Book Thief

December 11, 2021, 

Once upon a day in 1st grade, there was a lovely girl who was a bookworm. She read day, and night, by sunlight, and moonlight. It was pretty much all she did which impressed almost all the adults she met.

She was the ideal student. 

The whole package.

What people didn't know is that she would have done anything to read.

Even crime.

Would it surprise you to find out that I am that girl?

And you all know how crazy I am, so imagine how crazy I would be as a seven-year-old. At that point in time, there was only one book series that all the girls wanted to read: The Thea Stilton books.

One girl in my class, and one of my friends, was the proud owner of the latest issue. Elizabeth had just finished reading it when I jumped at the chance to ask her if I could borrow it. She agreed with the condition that I couldn't take it home. That infuriated me, even if I didn't show it. In the end, I sweet-talked my way out of it, using my reputation as a nerd to serve as an advantage. I finished reading it the very next afternoon.

The thing was... I didn't want to part with it. 

I thought long and hard about it until I came to the cruel conclusion of keeping it. When Elizabeth asked me where it was, I lied about it saying I had already given it to her. In a way, I judge her for not calling me out on it. She told me she must have forgotten and lost it, marking the case of the missing book unsolved. I, on the other hand, completely forgot about it until 3rd grade.

It was when I saw her again all the feelings of guilt appeared.

I tried to ignore it, I really did! That did nothing since I couldn't sleep.

I kept thinking about the horrible thing I did, how horrible it must have been for her. I know that if I lost one of my books, I would go crazy. After two nights of no sleep I might add, I gave in. I went through my closet and dug up the book. The next day, I tried to hide my feelings of nervousness as I got granted permission to visit her classroom. I remember that moment like it was this morning.

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I timidly knocked on the door, taking a deep breath.

"Come in!" my first-grade teacher yelled out. Our school makes our teachers switch grades sometimes. It just so happens that Mrs. Tarah was stuck teaching 3rd grade this year and is the teacher of Beth's class. I slowly opened the door and peeked my head through, seeing her writing something on what looked like a worksheet.

"Oh, it's you, Melissa. What do you want from my life?!" She exaggerated, making me laugh.

"I actually needed to talk to Elizabeth. I have to return something."

"What is it?"

"A book," I stated as I held it up.

"Alright, go ahead," she said, nudging her head in Beth's direction as she went back to grading her papers. I walked over to her desk and she lifted her head to the noise. I offered her a nervous smile while she gave a nonchalant smile, not sensing the anxiousness behind mine.

"Hey, Mel. What's up?" she greeted me.

"Hey, remember that book I borrowed 2 years ago? The Thea Stilton one that you bought with your dad at Barnes and Nobles one weekend?"

"Yeah, I lost it. My dad almost killed me," she joked, making the girl next to her chuckle. I let out a forced short laugh, and slightly shook my head side to side.

"Well, it turned out that I had it all along. I must have misplaced it, and while I was looking for another book yesterday, I found it."

She had a poker face on, no emotion, and then suddenly she looked like she had just gotten a puppy.

"Oh my god! Seriously?" she grabbed the book out of hand with the speed of lightning. I nodded.

"Yeah, sorry about the trouble I must have caused."

"No, no, it's okay. Thanks for returning it!"

Yeah, no problem," I said with relief. I turned around towards Mrs. Tarah and called out, "Okay, Mrs. Tarah, I'm done and I'm going to go now!"

"Alright, see ya later, kiddo," she said with a small smile on her face.

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And that, ladies and gentlemen, is one example of how it is never too late to fix a mistake. I could keep going and going, but I don't want to bore you.

Signing out,

Melissa A. Brook