Two Hours Later
There's nothing better than working a night shift, especially at the local public library.
"Want a ride, kiddo?" Dad asks.
My legs are...fine.
"No," I say.
"You sure?"
I sigh. My legs are sore from the game, but I'll live.
Outside, I slap my board down on the walk, take a deep breath, then I hit the road. The nap didn't kill my headache (it's a lighter throb), but it did make me feel calmer. Like skateboarding. I love skateboarding anywhere I have to go. A lot better than in a car. Those are death traps. I have more control, and it's how I stay in soccer shape.
Except in rain and—whoa.
...And that sidewalk.
Don't go dying on me.
Why can't the city fix these?
My ride through the streets takes me to one of my favorite places. The Triangular Information Station in the middle of the intersection. Sometimes Kenzie and I wait here when we meet the other after work. I'm going to be early. Break time. Nobody's here. It's mine. All mine. The vending machines are loud. Their prices have gone up by a dollar. I don't buy from them, so it doesn't affect me.
Art thou ready, Mr. Vaughn?
Portersburgh Public Library
Maple Park Branch
My local library.
It's a little literary palace brimming with big wonder, stuffed between two trendy outlets and across the street from Maple Park's GoSpresso. Sure, it's small, kind of dark (HQ's relocation to the valley area sucked the budget dry), and it once had a recurring mouse problem in the back (one looked like Despereaux). But, I can't complain because it's been great to me since I first came here with Kenzie.
"Hey, Stephen!"
"Hey."
"You...don't work Saturdays."
Called it!
"Tell soccer that."
"Oh yeah! How'd the game go?"
...Does James really want to know? I give him the eye. I could show him the new scrapes on my arms under the sleeves of my hoodie. Or, I can tell him how I have a lingering headache. I like to keep my life to myself and just do my work, but they know about my games because of scheduling.
"It happened," I say, and walk to the back.
James. The young circulation manager who likes colorful pique polos. He's my favorite. He and all the other clerks who left me a lone cart in the back room to shelve. I put my board by the coats and...no. I think I'll keep the jacket. My locker's smaller than Bradley's five-gallon tank and Old Blue's the best. I could live in him every day.
I collect a CD from the book-drop, then return to James.
"Super huge load," I joke, handing over the CD.
"Wow! Look at that!"
CDs are a rare find. The system got rid of most of them a decade ago because everything's digital. Some patrons got angry, but that's normal. Like Kenzie once said to me, you never realize how crazy the library can really be until you start working at one.
"Lost the game, by the way," I say.
"Damn."
...What James said.
YOU ARE READING
Earhart & Noonan: An "Us Club" Novel (#1)(NaNoWriMo15)
Teen FictionFor the first twelve years of Stephen Vaughn's life, just trying to get others around him to pronounce his first name the right way ("Stee-vehn Vawn") has felt like the hardest task he's had to try and cope with. That is, until his perfect life with...
