Everyone Is Talking About It
1190 Words
By the end of lunch today, the whole school will know I had lunch with the school librarian. Not that I mind though. I loved the library, and I wasn’t really a social butterfly, so they could chastise all they wanted, and I wouldn’t budge.
“Let me get this straight, you want me to go to the party with your niece, why?” She leaned in to not break her own library code of conduct.
“So she can have a good time, plus she’s new here,” she whispered.
“Mabel, I would love to help, but I won’t be attending the party at all.” I murmured. She frowned, taking off her glasses and cleaning the rim with her thick sweater.
“You’re a kidder, didn’t you say your friend was a host at this bash, you’re really telling me you’d pass up on that?” She asked exasperatedly.
“Yup,”
“What is wrong with kids these days?” She threw up her hand in disbelief, fuming. I munched on the homemade sandwich I had brought, less cafeteria food would really do me some good.
“Don’t teenagers loathe it when aged people try to coax others into befriending them?” She glared at me, slamming her hands on the table, making me jump.
“ I told you to stop that, I’m still in my thirties. I’ll have, you know, forty tomorrow, but that’s by the way. ” She snapped.
“I’m sorry. Happy birthday in advance Mabel. ”
“Thank you, Sydney.” She quipped loudly, the library wasn’t flooded with students, but the minority still sent scowls our way.
“Now, to the point.” I sighed and rubbed my temples.
“Besides the blatant fact that I do not want to be the paragon parading around with the new girl, I have to baby sit my little sister.” She replaced her glasses and sagged.
“ Common Sydney, baby-sit? What is she, twelve? ”
“ Actually, she’s fourteen and, yeah, I have to watch her. My mom is pulling a late night shift, so, that, unfortunately, has been decided. ” I leaned back a bit, taking another bite that took me a good minute to chew and swallow.
She watched me in disbelief. I know it’s almost unfeasible for a teenager to not harbor a defiant urge to go, even when instructed not to. But I’m part of that 1% who would rather stay back and not risk jumping off the window to make-out with hangover and a tenacious headache.
No, thank you!
“ Uh, okay then, how about you take your sister over to the house? Tatiana’s siblings are such sweethearts, she would love spending time with kids her age. ” Her persistency was definitely applaud-worthy, if I could say so myself.
I try to focus on what she was saying, but my attention keeps wandering around the library.
Something that happens way too often when I’m here for too long without a book to bury my face in.
It’s got this quiet charm, like it’s too settled to care about what goes on outside. Rows of books stretch out in all directions, some with spines so faded you can barely read the titles. A soft glow spills from the windows, casting warm patches of light on tables that look like they’ve seen decades of distracted visitors just like me.
The smell of aged paper and wood hangs in the air. A kind of calm that feels like it belongs here more than I do. I bring myself back to her voice, realizing I haven’t really been listening.
“Yeah, my sister hates being around kids her age, they’re ‘Superficial Airheads’ as she called them”. I shrugged my shoulders. Panic surged through me when she eyed me exasperatedly.
“Don’t look at me, that’s what she says.” I defended.
“But I’ll try my best, I guess.” I complied when I realized she wasn’t going to back down. She beamed graciously and grabbed my hand from the table.
“Thank you, thank you Sydney. I’m grateful. ” I nodded my head sheepishly, pushing back on my seat, making an irritating screeching sound on the floor as I stood up.
I shot her an apologetic look for the noise it made, then left the library.
I was definitely not looking forward to Friday night.
The basketball court stretched out before me, polished wood gleaming under the bright overhead lights. The markings for the key, free-throw line, and three-point arc stood out in sharp white, framing the game in clean boundaries. There were two worn out baskets, one on either end, each with a sturdy backboard and a net that swayed with every successful shot.
The bleachers were mostly empty, with just a few scattered spectators here and there, their voices echoing faintly in the vast space. Occasionally, the sounds of squeaking sneakers and the steady rhythm of the dribbling ball filled the quiet, punctuated by the occasional shout or call from the players. Nearby, a couple of players sat on the bench, waiting their turn to jump in, watching intently as their teammates practiced plays.
Poor dudes.
The air had that familiar gym smell, a mix of floor polish and faint sweat, and the whole place had a vibe that felt serious and a little intense, even with the small crowd.
There was a long list of things I disliked and failed to see the point of. Sports are at the top of the pyramid, but I could tolerate basketball, it was cool.
Of course, there are people who hate Nile’s High for making basketball the top sport, but that was one of the things I was grateful for.
From my spot, I watched Zane dribbling down the court, sneakers squeaking against the polished floor. One of the other players tried to cut him off with a rough shove, but he dodged smoothly, keeping control of the ball. Then, just before he passed, he sent a quick, proud smile my way.
“Show off.” I laughed, taking a bite of the cold yogurt he had asked me to get for him.
He wiped his eyebrows with the back of his palm, his breathing still ragged as he jugged over the bleachers and settled down next to me.
“How did I do?” He asked in a deep breathless voice. I passed him water from the cooler, clicking my tongue.
“Me…”
“If you say mediocre, I’ll kill you.” He sneered, gulping down the water, his throat worked as he did.
“Not Mediocre.” He snatched the cup of yogurt I held and took a bite.
“Hey, I wasn’t done with that.” I snapped, offended by his lack of consideration of my obvious feminine fragility.
He ignored me and took another bite.
A familiar blondie appeared in front of us with a look I couldn’t decipher.
“Hey Zane, we need to talk.” Mia mumbled, her frown stretching as she met Zane’s hesitant eyes.
This can’t be good.
- Writer
