You Read Too Much

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Y O U   R E A D   T O O   M U C H
[ One of four finalists in Switchpress' Love & Profanity Competition, 2015 ]
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❝You read too much.❞

I look up from the battered old copy of The Hobbit that sits, held down by my right forearm, in my lap. He sits across from me, at one of the school library's round tables. At a glance, I see that his only companion is his lunch. Typical, if every remark he makes is of the sort.

❝Excuse me?❞

I can see him fighting back the smirk that plays on his thin lips as I ask him the question. ❝I told you,❞ he replies factually, ❝you read too much.❞

I raise an eyebrow. Although I know that he's completely and utterly right, something in the back of my mind pushes me to defend myself. Whatever it is, I find it annoying.

❝It's for school.❞ I retort, holding up the cover for him to see. Not a single part of him twitches. For some reason, I find this intimidating.

This time, he doesn't hold in the slight smile that twists across his face. I haven't seen it used often - he seems to be quite the moody type. The smile hovers for a few seconds, before he speaks again. ❝Don't give me that kind of trash. It's only every once in a while that people can actually see your face. You've always got your nose buried in one of those things.❞

❝Books.❞

❝Yeah, books. Why do you read, anyway? It's kind of pointless.❞

My expression twists into a scowl. ❝It's. For. School.❞ I snarl.

❝Whoa, temper, temper.❞

Why on earth do I feel like I should say sorry to him? He's an idiot! He doesn't know what he's rambling on about - how can a person not like books? Heck, this world is confusing. Yeah, it's confusing, and that's why we read: to get away from all the stupidity of the world we live in today, and the world we wish that we wouldn't be living in tomorrow. Books take us to other places, where we don't have to deal with people that don't like reading.

I wrap myself up in a horribly transparent calm tone. ❝If you don't like reading,❞ I begin, quieter than before, ❝then why are you in a library?❞

His hands, holding a previously untouched Nutella sandwich, tense in mid-air. He turns to look at me and gives me a look that seems to portray so much. What-are-you-doing. I-am-supposed-to-be-the-one-ticking-you-off. Why-are-you-distracting-me-from-my-sandwich. All of those, and that he is actually nervous. The latter is quickly confirmed when his answer is an inaudible mumble.

I know that I've changed the play and come out on top - he's the victim, now. Cupping my hand to my right ear, I ask him to repeat his last sentence. A hint of red brightens his pale cheeks, and he looks down at the table. I have him cornered. He seems to know defeat well; there are no more crass remarks shot in my direction.

I return to Middle-Earth, carefully peeling page eighty-two off of eighty-four, but a nagging thought in my mind makes me stop. What is he doing in the library?

❝You didn't tell me—❞

❝I'm here because I've got no friends,❞ he says, slowly and sarcastically. I smile. I should have known that he wouldn't give up too easily - in the time that we've conversed, he already seems to me like a stubborn sort of guy. Usually, I categorise people fairly quickly after I meet them, although the Health teacher, Mr. Slater, is forever drilling my class on how we shouldn't do so.

❝I'll be your friend.❞

This may, perhaps, have been a little creepy. He stared directly at me, with brows furrowed and his gaze piercing my own. ❝I'm here because I've got no friends, and I have no current intention of making any.❞

❝Why don't you want friends?❞

❝It's complicated, alright? Shut up, I'm—❞

His line of speech is cut off, like he said too much. I smile, and glance over at the book he has been holding, purposefully hidden from my prowling eyes as I talked to him from my seat on the floor. It's The Hobbit, equally as worn as my own.

❝Reading?❞ I offer, smirking. He grins along with me, unable to really argue any further.

❝It's for school.❞