Program: Superhuman *ON HOLD*

Chapter 5: A Trip to the Bookstore

As the day before, I waited in the front for Arden to exit the school. I didn't want to go home. Mr. Vale's threat still hung in the air like a hive of bees. I thought about praying... but I ignored the notion.

"Hey," Arden greeted when he walked up to me.

I glanced up to him and nodded towards the direction the bus station was in. As we began walking towards it, I awkwardly rubbed the back of my neck and said, "Uh... do you want to check out Uncle Forge's bookstore before going home? I know you're not really into books, but..." I glanced up hesitantly. "Y'know..."

He didn't have to look at me to know what I meant. He moved his hands around in his pockets before saying, "Okay. But we can't tell Mom."

"And we have to be back before she gets home," I agreed, coming to a stop under the bus station's overhanging roof.

"So at least by five-thirty. Preferably earlier."

I nodded.

After waiting the short while until the bus came, Arden paid to go to the more downtown area and we sat in the back again. The drive was shorter than the one to home, which helped with time, but it was farther away from home, so it gave us less time overall. We got out and wandered through the neighborhoods, looking for Cedar Street. I stuck close to Arden and hoped his karate training would pay off just in case something happened.

The houses here were in worse shape here, with holes in the slates of their roofs, and broken windows. Random people lurked around corners and mothers held wailing babies, gazing at us suspiciously. It was as if they hadn't seen a single stranger in their life.

Not sure how he would react, I latched my hand onto Arden's wrist, sliding one of my hands to his palm and grasping his fingers. My other stayed grasping his wrist. At first, my brother gazed at me in disgust and was about to shake me off, but thought better of it and continued walking.

"Cedar Street," Arden pointed at a green sign nearby.

I nodded and let him lead me down the road. We passed a few houses, and a few abandoned alleyways. Finally, though, we saw number 33. It was quaint, squished between a tall house and a deserted shop that had wooden boards nailed to its windows and door. The Last Novel, though, was in good shape, with its name above its door in white, cursive letters. There was a large window on the left, portraying the crammed bookshelves on the inside of the store, as well as the black, spiral staircase at the very back. I guessed it led to Uncle Forge's apartment. In front of the window, there was a windowsill covered with a brown cushion. Chocolate-colored curtains just lightly touched the edges of the glass frame, moving slightly with breezes from the overhead fan. The door - which was made of glass and had brown wood bordering - sat to the right of the window, its golden knob waiting to be used.

I glanced to Arden in hesitation, and he reached forward, grasped the handle, and pushed the door open. The bell issued a sharp ding. Inside, the air was cozy, and the smell of paper and ink hit me like a wave. I breathed in deeply, letting go of Arden's hand subconsciously. I remembered that smell from somewhere - where was it? Ah! When we lived in Texas, I had gone to the library more than just several times; this building smelt exactly like it.

Focusing on the bookstore again, I noticed that the short-bristled carpeting had soft, brown stalks, and there were random imprints in it where a piece of furniture had recently been moved. The bookshelves themselves weren't numerous, but they were all full to the brim of books and movies, as well as a few audio books, magazines, and music CDs. Chairs, tables, and beanbags scattered across the perimeter, some in comfortable nooks for privacy, and others in clear view of the front window. All of them sported several books, and a few held computers. Warm, yellow lights were all stationed near these comfy spots for the extra brightness.