Only Differently Designed // ODD

2. Only Safe Haven

Right. Left. Right. Left.

My feet know what to do once the bell rings.

I walk out of class, through the hallways, down the stairs. I walk against the flow of students. There's way too many of them. All walking just like me. But unlike them, I am not heading outside. I am delving deeper inside the building. I am walking towards my safe haven. The library.

My library.

Always warm, always quiet. Best of all – it lacks people. Exactly what I need after being around too much people.

I enter the maze of books. I trot happily over the soft, carpeted floor. My fingers trace the worn-out spines lined on the shelves. I reach the librarian's desk. Hesitantly, I watch as the ancient lady licks the tip of her wrinkled forefinger and flips through several papers.

"Um, hi, I was wondering if–"

"Nope, sorry dear," she replies immediately, not bothering to glance up. "It still hasn't been returned."

"Oh, alright, thanks."

I sulk over to my usual table and sit on the chair closest to the radiator. Mark sits down on the opposite side, like he always does.

"Hullo," he says, playing with the brown curls hanging down his forehead.

"Hullo," I say back.

"Did you find that book yet?"

I shake my head.

"Maybe they don't even have it in this library," he suggests. "Maybe the old lady is just giving you a hard time."

"And why would she do that?"

"Oh, I don't know, maybe your past self and her past self were sworn enemies, and now in order to fulfill her long-awaited revenge, she's convincing you that her library possesses the book you desire the most in life, except that, unfortunately, it's out of your reach."

I laugh, but stifle it quickly when the librarian in question shoots me a suspicious look.

"Nope, I'm pretty sure they have the book. It just isn't available because some irresponsible bloke borrowed it and has been keeping it hostage for almost a month now."

Mark raises his eyebrows. His very bushy eyebrows, I might add.

"A month?" he squeaks. "My God, is this person planning on mummifying the poor book?"

"Probably."

"Why don't you just move on to the next novel in the series?"

"I can't just skip one. They're all related."

"Then you have no choice but to do everything our book-napper asks you to do. Just wait. They'll probably give you a call sometime demanding you hand in twenty bars of chocolate in return for the book."

"It isn't even mine to begin with, it belongs to the library!" I sigh. "Honestly, I need to start doing some detective work. And if I do find this person I'm breaking into their house – felony or not."

"Two felonies, actually," Mark points out. "The breaking in part, and when you steal the book. That is, if you do find the book. Chances are it's lost!"

I cover my face with both hands. "No, no, no! Lost is too harsh. I don't even want to consider that! I've been waiting to read it for so long."

Mark laughs heartily, revealing his dimples.

"Well, in that case," he leans in and whispers, "I'll buy it for you."

He's close enough that I can count the freckles under his green eyes. Close enough that I can almost – almost – feel his breath.

I smile bitterly. "You know you can't do that."

"I know, I know," Mark nods his head, causing his curls to bob up and down. "But if I could, I really would."

"You can't, though."

We fall silent. There are many things Mark can't do. The fact that he doesn't have access to any privileges makes me feel guilty. But there isn't much I can do about it, is there? I can only revive our dead conversation, and so I do.

"Did I mention my sweater almost killed me today?"

"Again?!"

"Yup, except that this time someone helped me. She even taught me the correct way to take off a sweater."

"And who is this sweater guru?"

"A girl in my class. Scarlet."

"Did you talk to her?"

"I just said thanks."

"You should try speaking to her, if you think she might be a nice girl."

I shrug. I don't like it when he insists I should speak to more people. It's not like he ever speaks to anyone besides me at all. The bell rings, signaling the end of our quality time. We say goodbye and part ways. I head to my classroom.

Right. Left. Right. Left.

My feet are in charge once more. I walk up the stairs, through the hallways, and into the classroom. I'm usually one of the first people to enter the classroom after break. But this time Scarlet is here, too. She's speaking animatedly to one of her many friends.

A small, naïve part of me wants to join, but what could I possibly say? Nothing. I have nothing to say. So I walk to my seat. I sit and remain seated until the end of the school day.

Another day of silence has gone by.