THE LIBRARY WAR ZONE
550 Words
The clock hit 3:30 PM, and I took a seat in the nearly empty library. Ethan arrived late, as usual.
He dropped his bag on the table. “Alright, let’s get this done fast.”
I pushed the project outline toward him. “We’re creating a full presentation. We’ll need planning.”
He rubbed his forehead like he’d already given up.
“Fine,” he said. “What roles do we take?”
“You do research,” I said. “I’ll organize and design.”
He snorted. “You don’t trust me with design?”
“You once drew a flaming chicken in art class.”
“It was a phoenix!”
“It was on fire. And screaming.”
He tried to hold back a laugh, and I tried not to notice.
We worked in silence for a few minutes. Ethan typed quickly, but then he stopped, staring at the screen like it suddenly hurt to look at it.
“You okay?” I asked.
“Yeah,” he said too quickly. “Just tired.”
It wasn’t convincing. Ethan Cole was energetic to a fault. The only time he ever looked tired was when—
His phone buzzed again. Same contact. He turned away from me, shoulders tense.
“Mom, not now,” he whispered. “I said I’ll come after homework.”
He froze when he realized I overheard.
I looked back at my notebook and pretended I wasn’t listening.
He sat down slowly. He didn’t raise his head.
“Look,” he said quietly, “don’t start talking about it.”
“I wasn’t going to,” I replied.
“Good.”
A few moments passed before he added, “My mom’s been sick. She needs help at home. That’s all.”
His tone wasn’t sharp. It wasn’t sarcastic. It was real.
And it caught me completely off guard.
“Oh,” I said softly. “I… didn’t know.”
He shrugged without looking at me. “You never asked.”
The silence after that wasn’t awkward anymore. It was heavy.
Maybe he wasn’t just “Ethan the Annoying.” Maybe school was the only place he acted tough because he had to.
We worked for almost an hour. For the first time in three years, we didn’t fight. At all.
When the librarian called closing time, we packed our things quietly.
Ethan carried his bag with one strap, moving slower than usual.
“Hey,” I said, “if you ever need help with the project or… anything else, just tell me.”
He looked up.
His voice dropped. “Why would you help me?”
I shrugged. “Because sometimes people need help. Even annoying ones.”
Something almost like a smile flickered across his face.
But before he could answer, the library door burst open.
A boy ran inside, out of breath.
“Ethan! You need to come now!”
Ethan stiffened. “What happened?”
“It’s your mom,” the boy said. “She collapsed.”
Ethan’s face was drained of color.
He ran.
I grabbed my bag and chased after him.
We reached the entrance, but the moment Ethan pushed the door open… someone was already waiting there—someone who definitely wasn’t supposed to know where he was.
- Writer
