A Filipino-American book nerd attempts to save her precious library from closure with the help of a mysterious vanishing book and a boy she should never fall for.
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Elsy, a Filipino-American book nerd, faces a crisis when their town's growing re...
Autumn had a way of coloring the world with warmth despite the cool weather it brought. A trickster among the seasons, showing the most visually captivating canvas but opening the gates to a time when things died.
The leaves on trees burned red and orange. Some had already dropped, turning the tops naked and powdering the grounds with dried and wrinkled pads. The fallen leaves crunched beneath my boots as I strode along a sidewalk.
A chill wind blew against my cheeks. I loved fall. Despite the trees shedding and the world turning frigid, it was a sign that the most merry days were near.
I was busy enjoying the surroundings when my phone buzzed in my pocket.
I pulled it out and read the message.
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It was a text from my mother. She spoke in Filipino most of the time, even in her messages.
Kumain ka meant you're going to eat.
I sighed, hearing her Filipina accent in my head, seeming to nag at me even with the shortest sentences. It wasn't like I would stay out beyond ten in the evening. Where would I even go when the library closed at that time?
Crossing the street at a green walk light, I continued down another pedway until I reached the front of Littleton Public Library.
When I came to the sidewalk, I stopped and faced the building like always. I stared at the arched entryway under the gable roof portico. My eyes moved to the red-bricked walls of the two-story building and the beautiful radius windows on the first floor.
The sight of it placed a smile on my heart.
I walked up the front steps and paused at a statue of a girl with arms flung wide open, standing beside a fiery red-leaved Japanese maple tree and welcoming the world.
"Good afternoon, Ms. Pollyanna," I said to the bronze statue, dipping my head to the side before walking to the entrance. As I entered the library, I escaped the cold, and the building's warmth and silence greeted me.
"Hello, Alice." A woman behind a desk peered up, beaming a smile that wrinkled the sides of her gray eyes.
"Hey, Ms. Clark," I greeted.
"Can I help you with anything today?" Ms. Clark asked.
"Yes. I'm doing a research paper on Littleton's history. I'm wondering if you have any books I can reference." I walked up to her desk.
"Oh, yes. We have a couple on our shelves for you," she said as she started typing on her computer, searching the library's catalog. The tap-tap-tapping on the keyboard echoed in the unpopulated room.
After a few minutes, the printer buzzed and spewed out a list, and Ms. Clark handed the paper to me.
I thanked the librarian and headed to the history section on the second floor. Walking up the wooden stairs, aged for over a hundred years, I observed the darkly varnished shelves looming above and below, consuming the space inside the library.
