The Living Fantasy (On Hold)

Oxymorons & New Book Smell

Chapter 3- Oxymorons & New Book Smell

Once I finish jotting down a set of problems that Mrs. Chestnut assigned us, I bring out a stack of papers from my binder. Immediately, I begin to jot down the idea popping into my head for my story I have been developing. The story is a twist on a very popular cliché. It is a good girl and bad boy story, but the good girl ends up changing the bad boy. She spends time with him and her goodness rubs off on him. To me, it sounds very romantic because he loves her so much that he ends up being more like her.

I have written several love stories over the years, but my favorite is one about two best friends who are actors. It is just an adorable and touching story that I just adore. Being a writer, I adore all of my stories, but every author always has a special story that they will always favor.

Mrs. Chestnut must think I am still taking notes because she isn't making loud comments on my short attention span. My pencil waves around like a magic wand, creating magical words that transform my idea into a growing story.

I like to think of stories in progress like a sprouting tree. The first little idea that pops into your head is the seed, and you plant the seed once you begin writing. Before you know it, that story/seed begins to sprout and keeps on developing. After a lot of effort, it flourishes into something magnificent. Then, it stands tall for everyone to see and to admire its beauty.

The loud ring of the bell echoes, letting me know it is time to go home. I don't want to go home... there is no telling what awaits. Well, there is always the library -- a place filled with adventures that won't give me another cut or bruise.

Luckily, I escape from Tina, and go on my way to the nurse's office so I can return the crutch. While limping through the halls, my eyes latch onto the boy who helped me this morning. Zac passes by me without giving me a glance, but he was busy talking to one of his fellow baseball players.

I return the crutch, and the nurse rewraps my ankle tautly. After thanking her, I limp out of the school and down the street to the library. When my feet step through the door, the magnificent scent of fresh book pages surrounds me and a familiar voice greets me, "Hello, Lace. I was hoping you would come."

A smile creeps onto my lips as I face Ms. Devlin -- the librarian. Once you come to a place constantly, you get to know people. Ms. Devlin is not your regular librarian. She isn't an old gray-haired lady that shushes you every time you speak. Ms. Devlin is a kind, twenty-nine year old who shares my love for books. No, she is not married and she has no children, but she has two cats -- Viola and Juliet. Ms. Devlin has a particular interest in Shakespeare's plays as you can tell by the names of her cats.

"Well, the longest I can go without coming here is two days!" My eyes lock on Ms. Devlin, who wears a white T-shirt that says: The book was better. Her shiny, blonde hair pulled into a messy bun and the only makeup she wears is mascara. Truly, she looks ten years younger than what she really is.

Ms. Devlin's chocolate brown eyes latch onto me, and she immediately frowns at my ankle, scrapes, bruises, and black eye, "Now, how did you get those this time? I promise, you have another injury every week. Let me guess, it was either another skateboard accident or a trampoline incident?"

"Um, just another skateboard accident." I shrug it off, but, as always, she doesn't seem convinced.

"If you say so," Ms. Devlin sighs, "some new books came in that I think you will be interested in, Lace. They are pretty good."

"Well, once I finish the ones that I am reading, I will check them out."

Ms. Devlin begins to sort through some books that people have returned, "So, how is your story you've been writing coming along?"