folklore: the novel

2. mirrorball

Betty's always found the school library comforting—something about the smell of books, the feel of being surrounded by towering wooden bookcases, the overall ambience that exists in a place of such knowledge and imagination—so it was no hardship when her homeroom teacher sent her there to fetch a textbook he needed.

The librarian, recognizing Betty from her many visits, nods her through and goes back to reading her magazine, not feeling the need to keep an eye on "one of her favorite students." Betty doesn't consider herself a teacher's pet, but she does appreciate the sentiment; she likes when her teachers favor her.

She just likes... being liked.

Walking to the back of the library where the teacher's edition books are kept, Betty double-checks her post-it note for the title. Adventures in English Lit. Ah, there it—

Arms suddenly wrap around Betty from behind, trapping her arms against her chest before she can grab the book from the shelf.

"A cardigan in the middle of summer, Betty?" the person hugging her murmurs against the side of her head.

"It's cold in the classrooms, James." His hold loosens and she turns in his arms, smiling up at her boyfriend. "What are you doing in here?"

"Hmm," James leans in for a kiss. "What are you doing in here?"

"I came as a favor to my teacher. Now, what's your excuse, Mr. I Frequently Skip Class Because I Think It's Boring?"

His answering grin is mischievous. "I'm skipping homeroom because I was bored."

She giggles, though she knows she shouldn't encourage his bad behavior. He leans in again, gently pushing Betty against the bookcase behind her, and kisses her nose. Once. Twice. Three times. And then bends to press another to her lips.

"Are you sure I can't convince you to come tonight?"

"Dances aren't really my thing, sweetheart. You know I hate crowds. But," James presses a third kiss against Betty's lips, "this certainly is."

Betty, still smiling, shakes her head. "Okay. Okay, if you're sure, I won't ask again. But I really do need to get going before they suspect I'm skipping... like you."

"Ouch," James jokes, rubbing at his heart with a frown. "Burn."

Stealing one last kiss, James takes a peak at Betty's note and searches the shelf behind her, pulling the book down for her. She takes it, hugging the thick tome against her chest, and eases around James.

"See you later."

"See you, sweetheart."

James watches Betty go, her shoulder-length blonde hair waving naturally in the mid-year humidity and her skin still softly freckled from summer break.

They started dating at the beginning of last year, her a sophomore and him a junior, and it was the first summer they'd spent together. Nearly every day of break, they were together—watching her paint landscapes in her bedroom, dancing under streetlights, playing hide and seek in the field near her house, kissing in his car.

He couldn't get enough of her. And, thank his lucky stars, she felt the same about him.

Of course, spending his every waking free moment during the summer with Betty also had its downsides. It made him forget, just for a moment, how miserable his life away from her actually is.

When the new (and his last) year of school started, Betty stayed busy—after-school clubs for dance committees and recycling and something else he couldn't remember that kept her from being able to occupy him. The weekends are the only days she's able to make time for him.