The Librarian (Book Two: Unhappily Ever After) (4 page)

Shawn rolled his eyes, but Mr. Clark was undeterred. He walked across the room and took a framed comic from the wall. "I bought this when I was eight years old. I'd never read anything on my own, but with this one issue I was hooked. Comics, books, short stories, poems – I read anything I could get my hands on."

Wesley eyed the comic with great interest. The cover's illustration had a muscular man in a mask holding Batman over his knee.

"Is that the one where Bane breaks his back?"

Mr. Clark arched an eyebrow then handed the piece to Wes. "Not bad," he said before turning to Shawn. "I might have to give
him
extra credit for that one."

Shawn smirked.

"You see," Mr. Clark began, "that may not
sound
like a big deal. After all, comic nerds are born everyday. But Batman led me to Sherlock Holmes, Holmes led me to Dickens. By the time I was sixteen I was sending stories I'd written to publishers in New York hoping they would give me a chance to see my stuff in print alongside the work I loved."

Taylor grinned solemnly. She wasn't surprised to see just how closely Wes was inspecting the old comic or just how intently he was listening to Mr. Clark's tale. She knew he was already firing e-mails off to editors in New York. They hadn't responded, though. Not yet.

"Of course, that didn't work," Mr. Clark explained. "But I kept trying. I studied English in college, and in my senior year, I sold a few stories to a magazine no one's heard of. So? When I graduated I took a job that let me—"

"So what?" Shawn interrupted, his tone one of complete disdain. "You're saying you wouldn't be our teacher if it weren't for some stupid comic? C'mon! You think you're the only English teacher who wants to be a writer?"

Mr. Clark was about to offer a response, but Wesley didn't give him the chance. "You gonna shoot down everything the man says? You act like you've never had a book change your life before?"

"Please!" Shawn signaled irritation with a noise that made it sound like he was sucking on his own teeth. "You're the nerd around here, Bates."

Taylor felt her skin go hot and was ready to jump to Wesley's defense only to find that Wesley was already there.

"You go to church, Shawn?"

"Every Sunday," he nodded defiantly. "Play second base for the softball team, too. So what?"

Wesley pushed the glasses up on his nose. "I just wonder if your mom would lay out those cute, little church suits for you if it weren't for a little book called – oh, I don't know – the Bible!"

There was a collective gasp, every kid in the room shocked that Wesley was able to fire back so quickly. Then, Taylor watched as a wave of amusement washed the room over. Kids were laughing, loudly this time. A moment later, a redhead in the seat beside Shawn was there to rub it in.

"Man, Bates
burned
you!"

Shawn punched the kid in his arm, but the redhead didn't mind. All he did was rub his arm and snicker some more.

"That's a great example," Mr. Clark said. "In fact, it's probably the best example. It doesn't matter—"

The teacher stopped short when the door opened and the school's principal walked into the room.

A few whispering students straightened in their seats. A pair of daydreaming kids instinctively picked up pencils like they were ready to take notes. Just the principal's presence was enough to put everyone's attention where it belonged. Only Taylor was brave enough to watch Principal Dill in the doorway, finally looking away when their eyes met and the tall man frowned.

"It doesn't matter what you believe," Mr. Clark continued. "Books like the Bible, the Koran, the Torak – these religious texts have inspired peace, they've inspired war. They've inspired people to do great things, and they've inspired people to do incredible evil." He centered himself behind the podium. "Every person in this room has been influenced by the written word. What books have influenced your life?"

Wesley stole a look at Taylor across the room. She could already tell he was going to use Mr. Clark's lecture against her the next time he brought up his ridiculous theory.

"For some of you I'm sure an influence will be hard to find. But I think most of you will find that your life has been influenced by the written word a lot more than you think. And I'm willing to bet, it's been for the better." He raised a finger to let the kids know they'd be taking a short break. "Excuse me a moment."

Most kids shuffled in their seats, moving to talk with a neighbor while they waited. But Taylor didn't. It was strange, the principal showing up in the middle of class like this. And then, there was the way he had frowned at her.

He's not here for you. He doesn't even know your name.

She began to doodle in the margin of her notes, but it was a distraction that couldn't hold her attention long. A few moments later, she looked up again.

This time, both Mr. Clark and Principal Dill were looking right at her. It was unmistakable. Taylor surveyed the room. Her classmates suddenly seemed reluctant to make eye contact with her. Everyone looked away when Taylor's eyes hit them except for Wes. Sitting just a few feet from the door, Wesley caught her attention and mouthed a silent message. She couldn't read his lips, only making out the very last word.

Blah-blah-blah...

Something-something-something...

You.

Mr. Clark looked away from his conversation with the principal. "Taylor? Can we talk with you a moment?"

She was hesitant but stood from her desk and slowly started toward them.

"Oh," Principal Dill said in a deep voice. "You might want to bring your things."

Taylor's throat tightened when she saw the tiny piece of blue paper in the principal's hand. She looked to Wesley for help but saw he was just as nervous as she was.

"It's okay," she whispered. "I'll be fine."

She collected her things and followed the two men into the hallway. A few minutes later, Mr. Clark returned.

Taylor didn't.

WESLEY WAITED NEAR Taylor's locker until the warning bell rang and traffic in the hallway began to thin. A few feet away, Old Man Riley was lecturing a lanky boy who couldn't open his locker. The school's maintenance man, Riley had a long pair of orange-handled bolt cutters in hand and was ready to free the locker of its lock.

"Better get to class," someone suggested. Wesley turned to find Ms. Easton hurrying down the hall, the click of her heels echoing against the tile floor. "You don't want to give Ms. Tanner a heart attack like the one you gave me."

She gave him an amused look as she went by. Wes quickly followed.

"Ms. Easton? Do you know what happened to Taylor? Mr. Dill pulled her out of class with a...
with a blue pass
." He was trying to hide the worry in his voice but couldn't. Every kid in Astoria knew your name scrawled across that little square of blue paper was bad news. Being hand delivered by the principal only made it worse.

"Probably lucky he wasn't there for you too after that stunt you pulled in the library."

"I know," he said. "I'm sorry."

They rounded the corner into the seventh-grade hall.
 

"Well," she began, "you didn't hear this from me, but Taylor didn't show up for ISS this morning. Just went straight to class like she wasn't in any trouble at all."

Wesley came to an abrupt halt.

ISS.

In School Suspension.

The final step before expulsion.

Taylor was about to be kicked out of school.

He started after Ms. Easton again. "Why would Tay have ISS?"

"Why
wouldn't
she?" Ms. Easton chuckled. Wesley couldn't tell if she was laughing at his question or Tay. Either way, the quiet snicker didn't sit well with Wes. Not one bit.

"Is it because we got lost in the library?"

"
Disappeared
, you mean?" She waited for his answer then stopped when she saw Wesley was too nervous to make eye contact. "How did you two hook up? That was...
unexpected
."

"Well, we—"

"You can tell me if she threatened you, Wes."

"
What?
No!"

"She doesn't have to know. You just tell me what happened, and we'll make sure—"

"Tay would never!"

Ms. Easton sighed then started down the hall again. "Taylor has been in-and-out of ISS all year. I only let her go on yesterday's field trip because we were hoping she had turned over a new leaf. Turns out she hasn't, so back downstairs she goes."

Wesley shook his head. Taylor'd never even been threatened with ISS. But Wes knew he'd be wasting his breath if he tried to explain. It was clear she didn't know the Taylor Williams he knew. No one did. Not anymore.

"You need to be careful," Ms. Easton continued. "You're a good kid, Wes. All the teachers love you, but after yesterday we're going to be watching you a little closer. Taylor's got a reputation around here. Had it long before you came to this school. Don't let her pull you down. You've got a bright future ahead of you. You're too good for a girl like that."

She gave him a quick rub of the head before leaving him alone as she disappeared into a rowdy classroom.

Wesley felt his stomach churn. It reminded him of the nausea he often felt after being goaded onto a roller coaster by his dad. It was like he'd just crested the coaster's peak and was about to barrel down its tracks.

Taylor's got a reputation?

Yeah, for being a teacher's pet.

Old Man Riley came around the corner pushing a cart with a hodge-podge of his tools and supplies. Straggling students were hurrying through doors and into classrooms, the scurry of their feet causing fallen papers to flutter along the tile floor like tumbleweeds through an Old West ghost town.

Wesley turned to study the staircase leading into the basement at the end of the hall. It was dark – the only part of the hall that wasn't bathed in the natural light flooding through the hallway windows and into the school.

She must be scared to death
, Wesley thought.

Riley muttered something beneath his breath about flooded toilets and rotten kids. He had orange hair in his ears and a mouth full of crooked teeth. Most kids feared the man, but Wesley had always felt sympathy for the old guy. Like the librarian, there were urban legends about Old Man Riley told in hushed tones all through Astoria – only the Riley stories weren't nearly as nice.

Wesley stepped aside, allowing the maintenance man to shuffle past. Riley grunted another complaint, but Wesley missed it. Something on the cart had caught his eye.

Oh, man! You're gonna rip me a new one, Tay.

The late bell sounded, and Wesley took off down the hall. Strangely, he didn't turn into one of the noisy classes. Instead, he inched into an empty computer lab, making sure he was alone before heading straight for the teacher's desk.

THE SCHOOL'S BASEMENT was dark and smelled of sulfur. There were long lights hanging from the ceiling, but most of the florescent bulbs had burned out long ago. All that remained were a few that flickered dimly.

Taylor sat in one of a dozen desks that faced the front of the room. While it was set up to look like an ordinary classroom, the basement was anything but. The floor beneath them was stained concrete. The ceiling above was nothing more than a checkerboard of exposed wires and iron beams. The room was crowded, its walls lined with items being stored until needed by the student body above: the good kids.

Perhaps most telling was the man sitting behind the teacher's desk. He wasn't teaching the kids in ISS. He wasn't working on his lesson plan. Instead, he had his feet up and was hiding behind the morning's newspaper, only looking up at his students when it was time to turn the page.

Taylor adjusted in her seat, using the movement as an opportunity to slyly look the room over. There were four other kids in ISS with her: three boys from her grade and a heavy-set girl from the grade above. In the corner, two of the boys were using a pocketknife to cut an empty soda can in half. When finished, each took a piece of the can for himself and began to spit into the open container that remained. Taylor couldn't take her eyes away. Was it a game? Was it supposed to be fun? Perplexed, she continued to watch as the boys spat one quick loogie after another as if racing to see who could fill his half of the can first.

The lights flickered, and the room turned dark. When the cold glow of light returned, Taylor saw one of the boys was looking up at her. He had stubble on his chin and a cigarette tucked behind his ear. It was Russ Kelley.

Supposedly, Russ had been given ISS because he hit Principal Dill across the face with a computer keyboard. When he saw Taylor was watching he snorted loudly then spit into his can once more. She turned away. A few second later, she heard him repeat the disgusting display and winced.

Taylor had never believed the rumors about Kelley's exploits, but it was clear his offense had been serious enough. He'd been in ISS since the first grading period, and the school year was almost up. She'd forgotten all about him.

She looked down and saw someone had carved an obscenity into her desk.

How long before people start forgetting about me?
she asked herself quietly. Then:
They already have.

Only that wasn't it. Wesley was right. Somehow, the world
had
changed. Things were off. Who knows? Maybe in this strange, new world Russ Kelley really had assaulted their principal. Or, maybe it had been something worse.

The legs on the teacher's chair squeaked as he pushed back from his desk. "I'll be right back," he explained. "No one's to move from their seat."

Russ and his friend focused their attention on Taylor as their teacher started for the door. Both grinned wickedly. Taylor swallowed hard. Her palms began to sweat. She didn't belong down here with these guys. Definitely not alone. What if they tried something once the teacher was gone? What if—