A Likely Story

2. dog eared

I stood behind the front desk, staring at the computer that looked like it would have fitted in better if pterodactyls had been flying around it. There were at least ten massive cardboard boxes stacked on top of one another. It would take me hours to get through all of them.  “Just type the book and author's names in, and then press enter. I'm sure you'll manage,” Maureen said cheerfully.

Not if I died of boredom in the process.

Except I couldn't help but feel a tiny pinch of apprehension at the sight of all those boxes, containing so many copies that were brand new, with that unread book smell puffing out when you opened them.

“Oh,” she added, “and after you're done with the cardboard boxes, just put them in the recycling bin on your left.” I turned around. “No, your other left,” she smiled, and I felt my cheeks redden as I turned around again and saw the dark green bin with the recycle sign on it. “Just see how you get on!” she said, and was gone quickly up the stairs again, with that startling agility.

I twisted my hair into a bun and took hold of the penknife I spotted lying next to the computer, using it to cut the brown masking tape off the first box. The ridiculously enticing smell of books hit me full in the face- smells seemed to have turned more violent in the past few hours.

I reached in and pulled out the first book; a pretty watercolour picture of wildflowers greeted me, above which was the title “Cider With Rosie”. A fleeting memory of Mr. Hughes' classroom with all the boys teasing Rosie Parkinson about being an alcoholic sprung from the back of my mind, startling me with its clarity. And how nice it was.

I typed it into the system, along with the author's name, Laurie Leigh. I peered at the familiarly beautiful black pen illustrations inside; it was weird and kind of nice seeing a copy that wasn't infected with the GCSE notes that dissected everything into unromantic little explanations.

The next book was The Other Boleyn Girl, which was basically a advertisement for the film, with Natalie Portman and Scarlett Johanssen gazing seductively out of the front cover.

I soon got into the rhythm of taking and typing and more often than not rifling through it if I hadn't read it, just to see what it was like. The whole thing had a lucky dip feel to it, and it was fun.

Footsteps made me look up, and I saw Charlie staring at me, his clouded eye so focused that I found myself wondering if it could see. “Give me the books you're done with,” he said, dislike running through his voice like thread.

“Give me a second,” I said, trying to make my hate drippingly obvious as well. I reached into the box as slowly as I could and got hold of a book, trying to make him angry. I held it up in front of my face, making a show of reading the title. When I got around to actually reading the title, my wrist jerked involuntarily, flinging the book across the room like a frisbee.

I watched it as it flew, landing open on the floor beside his tattered white trainers, splayed pages facing the floor. He looked at it in shock for a few seconds, as if he couldn't believe I'd just done that, and then looked up angrily, his expression stormy.

“What the hell was that?” he demanded.

“Sorry,” I said, but the end broke off like a biscuit and it ended up coming out as “so”. I attempted to steady my breathing, desperately trying to prevent it from coming in the ragged gasps that it threatened.

Charlie bent down and picked up the book, and before he could bring it over, I gathered all the books that I had finished with and carried them over to him, shoving them into his arms on top of the book.

'Take those upstairs please.” I tried to keep my voice calm, neutral, but I could feel my cheeks busily giving off enough heat to replace the central heating unit. He glanced down at me once, giving me an odd look, and then turned and walked towards the stairs, resting his chin on top of the books in a way that was strangely graceful, so prevent them from falling over. I was left with the strange feeling of someone who has just been shown into another room to get some privacy.