friend. I sat down at a long, chocolate-colored table and waited to see what would happen next. But Sarah did not want to share any information with me. She walked slowly over to my table and said, “Look, Donuthead, this doesn't go anywhere. You got that? Nowhere but here. If it does …” She paused, considering how to drive her point home.
“Let's see,” I said. “If I tell anyone that you are friends with little old lady Boardman, you'll yank my ears so hard I'll be able to tie them in a knot beneath my chin.”
“Yeah. Somethin' like that.”
As I glanced down at the table, I noticed that the bandages had been removed from her fingers and that her warts were nearly gone. Reflexively, she curled her fingers into fists and turned around, tossing her shiny blond hair over her shoulder.
“Hi, Grace,” Sarah said when she reached Mrs. Boardman's desk.
Grace!
“Hello, Sarah.” I watched in shock as Mrs. Boardman laid down her pen and put her bony hand over Sarah's. My first impulse was to warn the old woman of the dangers of infection that might still lie beneath Sarah Kervick's skin. Elderly people have compromised immune systems, you know. I did not want to be responsible for Mrs. Boardman's premature demise.
But the way she grabbed on to Sarah Kervick, I don't think she would have paid any attention to my warnings. She held her hand and spoke to her in a low voice.
“I was able to get over to that library in Wing Rock. Mr. Benkert, my neighbor, had to visit his mother up that way. Poor dear broke another hip. But just you see what I got you.” And she smiled a smile broad enough to crack her face, then rose slowly, pulled a key from her pocket, and shuffled over to the closet that held the coat and hat and briefcase of the regular librarian, Mrs. Fox. Unlocking the door, Mrs. Boardman took a cloth sack from behind the lost and found box.
“Here it is.”
I was expecting something exotic, like maybe a book on medieval torture or ancient Egyptian burial rites. Almost against my will, I rose in my seat to get a better look. As if sensing my movement, Sarah Kervick's head shot around with the glare of Medusa and froze me to the spot.
She turned back to Mrs. Boardman and said, “How long can we keep it, do you think?”
“It depends on when they move Mrs. Benkert. I'd say we have it until next Friday, at least.”
Sarah Kervick held the book tightly to her chest and moved over to the picture book area. Then she flopped down on her stomach, and all I could see were the bottoms of her worn tennis shoes.
I became absolutely consumed with discovering the book that made Sarah Kervick relax her hunched-up shoulders and smile so sweetly.
It was a strange sensation, much like the one that hadcaused me to raise my hand and voluntarily get recess detention. You see, normally I don't feel curiosity about things that are not connected to my personal safety. In fact, I like to arrange situations so that I have as much control as possible.
But the more I tried to arrange things around Sarah Kervick, the less control there was to be had. Something told me I was entering a whole new area of danger, and this was not physical! Libraries are, statistically, very safe places to be, unless you misuse the step stools that are intended for staff use only.
I rose from my seat and approached Mrs. Boardman. The reference section formed a wall that blocked my view of the picture book area. If I could just get to it, I could peek over and …
“Yes, Franklin?” Mrs. Boardman said, looking up at me from her work.
“I was wondering, Mrs. Boardman,” I said loudly. “Do you have any statistics on the rising tide of personal watercraft accidents?”
She blinked at me a few times. “Well, we have
The Guinness Book of World Records.
”
“I see … and that would be …”
She pointed to nonfiction. Opposite direction. “I see,” I said, casting a meaningful glance over her shoulder.
She raised one eyebrow, just for
“Let's see,” I said. “If I tell anyone that you are friends with little old lady Boardman, you'll yank my ears so hard I'll be able to tie them in a knot beneath my chin.”
“Yeah. Somethin' like that.”
As I glanced down at the table, I noticed that the bandages had been removed from her fingers and that her warts were nearly gone. Reflexively, she curled her fingers into fists and turned around, tossing her shiny blond hair over her shoulder.
“Hi, Grace,” Sarah said when she reached Mrs. Boardman's desk.
Grace!
“Hello, Sarah.” I watched in shock as Mrs. Boardman laid down her pen and put her bony hand over Sarah's. My first impulse was to warn the old woman of the dangers of infection that might still lie beneath Sarah Kervick's skin. Elderly people have compromised immune systems, you know. I did not want to be responsible for Mrs. Boardman's premature demise.
But the way she grabbed on to Sarah Kervick, I don't think she would have paid any attention to my warnings. She held her hand and spoke to her in a low voice.
“I was able to get over to that library in Wing Rock. Mr. Benkert, my neighbor, had to visit his mother up that way. Poor dear broke another hip. But just you see what I got you.” And she smiled a smile broad enough to crack her face, then rose slowly, pulled a key from her pocket, and shuffled over to the closet that held the coat and hat and briefcase of the regular librarian, Mrs. Fox. Unlocking the door, Mrs. Boardman took a cloth sack from behind the lost and found box.
“Here it is.”
I was expecting something exotic, like maybe a book on medieval torture or ancient Egyptian burial rites. Almost against my will, I rose in my seat to get a better look. As if sensing my movement, Sarah Kervick's head shot around with the glare of Medusa and froze me to the spot.
She turned back to Mrs. Boardman and said, “How long can we keep it, do you think?”
“It depends on when they move Mrs. Benkert. I'd say we have it until next Friday, at least.”
Sarah Kervick held the book tightly to her chest and moved over to the picture book area. Then she flopped down on her stomach, and all I could see were the bottoms of her worn tennis shoes.
I became absolutely consumed with discovering the book that made Sarah Kervick relax her hunched-up shoulders and smile so sweetly.
It was a strange sensation, much like the one that hadcaused me to raise my hand and voluntarily get recess detention. You see, normally I don't feel curiosity about things that are not connected to my personal safety. In fact, I like to arrange situations so that I have as much control as possible.
But the more I tried to arrange things around Sarah Kervick, the less control there was to be had. Something told me I was entering a whole new area of danger, and this was not physical! Libraries are, statistically, very safe places to be, unless you misuse the step stools that are intended for staff use only.
I rose from my seat and approached Mrs. Boardman. The reference section formed a wall that blocked my view of the picture book area. If I could just get to it, I could peek over and …
“Yes, Franklin?” Mrs. Boardman said, looking up at me from her work.
“I was wondering, Mrs. Boardman,” I said loudly. “Do you have any statistics on the rising tide of personal watercraft accidents?”
She blinked at me a few times. “Well, we have
The Guinness Book of World Records.
”
“I see … and that would be …”
She pointed to nonfiction. Opposite direction. “I see,” I said, casting a meaningful glance over her shoulder.
She raised one eyebrow, just for
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