Legend of the Book Keeper (2 page)

Sean was the embodiment of a try-hard, striving with painstaking effort to fit in everywhere, effectively fitting nowhere. Greasy, fire-red hair and a freckle-infested face, Sean cherished nothing more than to be involved in the action. From under his desk his gangly, splotchy arm produced a folded note, “It’s from
you-know-who . . . ,”
he whispered loudly, oblivious to his volume. The unnaturally, and slightly freakish, large smile on his face hinted that he was clearly pleased to be included in the moment of mischief. Cody quickly unfolded his letter:

CODY

Still up for Wesley’s after class?

JADE

Cody grinned. Glancing up from his desk, he gazed at a head of long, charcoal-black hair in the front row. Jade—his best friend. In truth, her birth name was Mari Shimmers. That name, however, had been relegated by her schoolmates to little more than obscure trivia as her prominent fiery green eyes had quickly earned her the nickname, Jade.

Cody recalled the moment he met Jade at the beginning of fourth grade. Her divorced parents had decided it was in her best interest to stay with her mom in America rather than her military father in Europe and transferred her into Cody’s class mid-year. Although Jade’s dress was extremely plain when compared to her image-conscious peers, and she rarely made use of makeup, her face radiated a compelling attractiveness with two large dimples, light freckles, and, of course, her trademark green eyes, which captured the look of the rising sun reflecting off the damp forest leaves the morning after a violent rainstorm.

Despite joining Cody’s grade, Jade was a full year older than her classmates, having been put back a year due to her military father and her constant need to transfer. This did not prove to be a hindrance, however, as she excelled academically and was quick to make friends. In many ways, she was everything Cody was not. Her bold outgoing nature stood out next to his stark, introverted demeanor. No doubt, the influence of military life shined through as well as she had developed a precise, analytical mind. Cody, on the other hand, seemed to always be lost in his private thoughts as he explored fantastic worlds and journeyed to magical realms. However, the two had struck up an immediate and surprising friendship. Some suggested it was because Cody had also dealt with the painful experience of his father walking out on his mother, and indeed that had undoubtedly played a supporting role. More probable, as Jade would quickly testify, was that she wrote all of Cody’s essays.

As if sensing Cody’s stare, Jade swung her head around and smiled, her piercing eyes peering at Cody. Cody smiled back, confirmation that the afternoon’s excursion to Wesley’s was a go. Wesley’s, or rather
Wesley’s Amazing Used and Rare Antique Book Store,
was the duo’s favorite afterschool hangout. Apart from broken families, the pair was also bound together by another chain: a mutual obsession of classic books.

From some vague distance, Cody heard the words, “Excuse me, Mr. Clemenson.” He flushed. Glancing up, he flipped his hair from in front of his eyes. The moment he did so he immediately wished he could undo the deed. Standing directly in front of him was Ms. Starky, who peered at him disdainfully. Cody gulped.

“Mr. Clemenson, would the student’s foot size in this experiment represent the controlled, or independent variable?” Cody didn’t even begin to have a clue as to what the answer was . . . or what in the world a variable was. He cast a desperate look toward Jade, but knew she couldn’t save his bacon this time. There would be no fooling Starky this time.

“Um,” he began slowly, searching for rescue, “Well, Ms. Sharky . . . I mean . . . Starky. . . . argh . . .” Sean let out an uncontrolled hiccupy laugh that sounded like a seagull choking on
Cheetos
. Unfortunately, Starky did not find humor in the situation. Squinting together her eyebrow-less eyes, she muttered, “Well, Mr. Clemenson, it looks like you will have the privilege of staying after class with me today . . . again.” Cody winced, and cast a sheepish look over to Jade. The Wesley’s excursion was indefinitely postponed.

“It’s about time!” Jade cried as Cody came straggling out of the school thirty minutes later. Cody tossed up his arms. “You think
you
had it bad? At least you got to wait outside, not with JAWS!” Jade let out a gentle smirk and continued in a motherly tone, “Well, for one, her name is Ms. Starky, not Jaws. No need to be rude. Secondly, the foot size in her question was the independent variable. And thirdly, you might be happy to know that I graciously spent my time waiting for you by finishing your algebra homework. Congratulations, you should have an A.” Cody flashed a smile of gratitude, reminding himself again why their friendship worked with such perfect harmony. With this, the two began their delayed trek to Wesley’s.

Coming to a crosswalk Jade pressed the walk button. “So, aren’t you going to tell me what Ms. Starky had you do for all that time in there?” she persisted. “I’m assuming it wasn’t tea and a game of checkers?” Cody shrugged, “Oh, you know, just the usual. Had to write a few hundred lines and listen to the ‘
you’re a disappointment to your ancestors
’ speech again.” These appointments with Starky had become somewhat of a regular occurrence; often scheduled into his agenda a week or two beforehand.

“So, what did you have to write this time? I-will-not-bean-embarrassment-to-fifteen-year-old-boys again?” Jade
prodded with a mocking grin. Crossing the street, Cody thought for a second, “Um . . . I can’t remember. Something like that. They all start blurring together, ya know?” Jade hung her head. After years of friendship she was still amazed sometimes by Cody’s apparent selective memory. He could instantly rattle off the birthdates and a variety of random facts about authors who had died centuries ago, but could not recall the ten words he had just spent halfan-hour repeating.
Silly boy!

The friends turned into a long alley between buildings, a shortcut to their destination. Although the town of Havenwood, Utah was small, the two had not yet reached the age where shortcuts and secret passageways had lost their intrigue. The pair had spent hours scurrying through the streets in one adventure or other; over the years they had run from Indians as well as from invading cut-throat pirates looking for plunder. Their passageways now carefully held these memories the way a glass bottle holds a tiny boat. Over time you may forget how the boat got into the bottle, but you never stop appreciating the nostalgia.

On this late afternoon, however, a foreign smell invaded their sanctuary of familiarity. Cody’s nose sensed it the minute it arrived, much the same way a dedicated librarian itches when a book is inversely replaced. He instantly knew they were not alone in the alleyway. Turning into view appeared a large man, cloaked in a long, black coat. The tall figure walked with the sway of one well acquainted with authority, and with the haste that seemed to proclaim that his business was his own. Jade forcefully yanked Cody against the wall as the figure briskly passed by, the tail of his coat bushing against Cody’s sleeve in the narrow passageway. A sharp chill shot down Cody’s spine.

Although the figure’s face was downcast, Cody caught a glimpse. It was a face he had never seen before. As the man reached the end of the lane he turned and disappeared as quickly as he had arrived. And, just like that, all returned to normal. The smell of alien cologne had stained the air the way a scar remains long after the cut has healed.

“Who do you think that was?” Cody spouted out the moment the stranger had vanished. “He gave me the creeps!”

“Just an ordinary visitor. It’s none of our business; probably a book collector come to visit Wesley’s. Speaking of which . . .” Coming to the end of the alley, their destination came into view.
Wesley’s Amazing Used and Rare Antique Book Store
.

Honest to its name, the bookstore dazzled the eyes of even those accustomed to its splendor. The building itself was not an average bookshop but a converted mansion. The oldest building in town and the last landmark of the city’s past now long forgotten. Around the front of the building was a magnificent porch carved out of gray stone, tightly hugging the house as its staunch confidant. The faded, wind-brushed bricks that fashioned the walls appeared feeble, as though a stiff breeze might tip the scales in favor of Father Gravity; yet faithfully they stood. Covering these walls were leafy vines that had slowly slithered up over generations and now clung to the walls like leeches. In the front, two black, stone lions stood imposingly as guardians on either side of the pathway leading to the house; their marble eyes staring at every visitor as though judging his worth.

Two breathtaking, sizable bay windows, covered by thick, black drapes, shielded the store in a blanket of mystery. The town’s children unanimously concluded that the mansion was haunted.

However, for the store’s most frequent visitors, these ghost-legends took no hold. Cody pranced up the chipped front steps and—
SMACK!
“Ouch!” cried Cody grabbing his now throbbing forehead. Jade shrugged once again; having witnessed another prime example of Cody’s poor memory. What offered the crushing blow was the ever-familiar wooden sign reading:
Wesley’s: Your Home for Rare Books Since 1683.
The store had just relocated to their town roughly four years ago when Wesley had arrived and quietly purchased the long-abandoned residence.

The melodic clattering of chimes announced their entrance. Despite their weekly visits, the two friends never ceased to be taken aback by the magnificence of the store. Walking through the front door was like stepping through a time-portal to an ancient era. Full-bodied knight armor stood at attention at the entrance. A royal red carpet lined the wooden floor, and an enormous chandelier hung from the ceiling, all thirty of the candles wielding flame. Having neglected to make acquaintance with electricity, the caretaker hung wall-mounted oil lamps that served as the large building’s only lighting. The house was three stories tall, with the top story presumably reserved for Wesley’s living quarters. And yet, it was not the scale of the store that continually amazed them, nor was it the ancient decorations—it was the books themselves.

On every wall, floor to ceiling, were rich oak bookshelves brimming over with books of all colors and sizes. The floor itself had become a spellbinding labyrinth, with stacks of books piled one-on-another higher than even the tallest man could reach. A customer could get lost in the expansive maze of books and have his decaying bones found again only years later. The books appeared to be in no apparent order, instead being simply shoved into any niche that would hold them. The air had the overpowering smell of leather and paper. It also had a coarse texture as millions of dust grains floated weightlessly.

Cody glanced up as he heard slow footsteps descending the spiral staircase from the third floor. In polite terms, as Jade preferred to put it, Wesley had pulled his weight in helping the family business sell books since 1683, as their slogan boasted. In other words, Wesley was not a young man. Reaching the bottom of the stairs, the elderly bookkeeper glided toward the customers with agility uncommon for his age. “Ah . . . I should have known it would be you two,” he said in a slow, rich voice. “It’s been two whole days. I was beginning to get worried.” An awkward silence followed. The statement had been uttered in such an emotionlessly neutral way that it left Cody unsure whether it had been intended in joke or earnest. The old man appeared oblivious to the silence and in no particular hurry to fill it with further words. After several uncomfortable moments Cody opened his mouth to speak but the elderly man turned and looked toward the two friends, as if to notice them for the first time. “What will it be this week? More Dostoevsky for you, Master Cody? Perhaps
The Idiot
?” Once again Cody was struck silent, unsure whether the suggestion had been meant in seriousness or in jest.