Pastel Punk [Phan] ♡ HIATUS

Chapter Nine

❀ Chapter Nine ❀

After school, I found myself wandering towards the library, momentarily forgetting about the fact that it'd probably be shut down for criminal investigation purposes.

When I reached the hallway where the double doors were, I saw bright yellow crime scene tape. Do not cross.

Thanks for telling me, tape.

I peered inside from where I could stand. The damage done did look disastrous- guess it was hard to see everything that's been broken when you're bolting from the scene of the crime, trying to escape with your life. Shards of broken glass peppered the carpet, chairs were overturned, books were strewn absolutely everywhere, and school supplies from the librarian's desks were scattered and broken. I almost felt bad for her. Almost. She was too much of a bitch to receive my sympathies.

A voice spoke up from behind me. Spooked, I jumped a foot in the air. "Easy, son," The man said. By the way he was dressed, I assumed him to be a teacher. "It's pretty disastrous, right? Such a shame the faculty and student body are having to partake in this atrocious crime. I suppose we can all glean something from this, though."

Definitely an English teacher, I corrected myself.

"What's that?" I wondered. The teacher smiled. Laugh crinkles shone on his temples.

"That this lesson is an important one- when they find the perpetrator, they'll be punished severely," He explained kindly. I gulped down the rising lump in my throat as I wiped the palms of my hands on my sweater.

"When do you think the library will be restored into full condition?" I questioned. Libraries were my sanctuary and I didn't want to last much longer without the comfort of literature and new-book-smell enveloping me.

"A week or two, after the police force finishes the investigation, I suppose they'll begin the restoration process," He guessed. I nodded, mulling it over. I'd have to go to the public library for the time being then, I guess.

That is, if I wasn't locked in juvenile detention by then.

"Well, I must be off to the teachers' lounge," He held up a stack of papers he was holding,

presumably a lesson plan to copy for tomorrow's lessons. "Have a good day, son," He nodded politely and was off, disappearing down the hall and around the corner. When he was out of sight, I took one last lingering glance at the damage, drinking in the destruction, turned around, and headed home.

I didn't have a car, which was a choice, by the way. I didn't have a job to deal with the insurance payments or maintenance requirements, plus I didn't go anywhere much anyways. I just had a scooter, a nice 6-gear one that had the prettiest pale pink paint job (had to get it in the "girls" section, but whatever, gender is relative anyways) and rode sweetly on lots of terrains.

I unlocked the padlock I out on the bike rack, wheeled it out a foot or two, and threw my leg over one side. The key went into the ignition and the engine was purring softly, and then I was off.

Weaving effortlessly through light afternoon traffic, the scooter and I made it home safely around five minutes later. My neighborhood was just off the large hill the high school was perched on, probably a fifteen or twenty minute walk if necessary. It was three stories tall, a relatively large house for a family of four. It certainly did feel empty on more than one occasion.

I got the entire third floor attic to myself, though. That was a plus, even if it got pretty chilly on wintry nights.

"I'm home," I whispered as quietly as I could when I unlocked the door and stepped inside. From what I could gather, no one was downstairs, so I decided to make myself a snack.