The Library Agreement

09

All I can do is stare.

But, then again, that's all I really tend to do around Hailey Richards.

Her face is flushed, and she's breathing a little quicker now, as if saying those words literally took everything she had. Her hold Alice's Adventures in Wonderland is tightening by the second—her knuckles are white from gripping it so hard.

"Hailey." I finally manage to stammer out, feeling as if I just got the wind knocked out of me. "Oh, my God—"

"Don't." She snaps suddenly, turning away from me, and I'm startled to see tears glistening in her eyes. She swipes them away quickly with the heel of her palm, looking frustrated. "That was stupid. I shouldn't have said anything. I don't know why I even—"

"Hailey Richards," I say then, softly. "I cannot believe you just said that to me."

I am awestruck. Absolutely floored. I don't know how else to describe it. Hailey Richards just said those things about me.

There has to be some mistake here.

She wouldn't say anything like that to me.

She is someone with so much depth. So much fire. So much passion and feeling and empathy. I see it in her every day.

Someone with all of those things could not possibly think so highly of someone so stereotypical. Someone who can't tell the truth about himself. Someone who is too caught up in his own reputation to care.

If she is fire, I am rain.

Subduing her. Suffocating her. Forcing her down until she has to escape.

This—the Library Agreement—will never last.

Because, soon enough, she'll figure it out.

She'll figure out that I am not worth having as a friend.

She'll figure out that I am not the kind of person she deserves as a friend.

She'll figure it out, and then she'll leave.

That's how it works.

I've been through this before.

But she's still waiting. Looking at me. Her back is slightly turned now, to hide the tears, but I still see her eyes on me, and they are no less beautiful then they are when they're dry.

I have to say something. I have to tell her.

"Hailey, I don't know what to say." I finally manage to spit out, my voice flat and breaking a little. "No one—no one has ever—"

"Save your breath. I get it." She mutters. "I get that this ruins your entire 'reputation'. I get that you can't be seen with me. I get that I probably came on too strong, or that I should have at least waited a while. I get it. I get the whole freaking thing. And I'm sorry that I thought it was anything different; I really am. So don't try to—"

"What?" I gasp out, my voice several octaves higher than normal. "Hailey, no! I'm—I didn't mean to—"

"Didn't mean to what?" She snarls.

"I didn't mean to imply that you shouldn't be my friend. God, Hailey, no. It's just that—no one has ever said anything like that to me, ever. And I can't believe—I can't believe that you actually think those things about me. It means so much. It really does. I didn't mean for you to get offended, I'm just not really good at taking compliments and—"

Then, in an instant, Hailey Richards is in my arms for the second time this week. Her arms are slung around my shoulders; she stands on her tiptoes to reach. It takes me a second to react—to realize that this is actually happening—but then I hold her against me like it's the most natural thing in the world.

And I can't help but get that feeling again. The feeling that everything will be okay if we just stand here, holding each other like this.

"You're a good guy, Charlie." She whispers, her lips just barely brushing my ear. "A really good guy. You should talk to Sanchez tomorrow."

Tomorrow? Tomorrow is Friday. Friday is the football game. If I say something to Mr. Sanchez tomorrow, the rest of the team won't let me hear the end of it.

And then I realize that Hailey is encouraging me to do this. That Hailey is the one asking me to be brave.

"Okay." I reply, quietly. "I'll do it."

She is so close to me, I can feel her smiling.

"Thank you."

She releases me, and I take a step back, grinning to myself as I see the flush entering her cheeks.

"Thanks for the book." She says, after a few moments of empty silence. "For everything, I guess."

"No. Thank you." I reply, and I mean it. I mean it with every fiber of my being.

The corners of her mouth lift upwards. "So you're really going to do it?"

I nod. "Of course I am, doll."

A flicker of a smile plays across her face at this, and I feel my heart pounding against my ribcage, as if begging to be released.

"Forties lingo." Hailey mutters under her breath, and I offer up a sheepish smile.

"See you tomorrow, Hailey."

"Yeah." She says weakly, her fingers rapping on the outside of her thigh in a somewhat nervous matter. "Okay. Thank you—and I'm sorry. You know, for..."

Her voice trails off, and I intervene quickly.

"There's nothing to apologize for."

She glances at me warily, but then nods, as if reassuring herself.

"Right. Thank you again, Charlie. I—it means a lot."

"It's my pleasure."

"Right. Okay, then. Um...see you tomorrow."

I chuckle a little, and she sends me a somewhat panicked look.

"I already said that, didn't I?" She asks, seeming flustered. "Sorry! I didn't mean to—"

"Go," I urge her gently. "Get some rest. I'll see you tomorrow."

Hailey grins at me then—a full-blown grin.

"Okay."

She gives a small wave, tucks the book under her arm, and disappears without another word—into the labyrinth of bookshelves and hallways and out the door. I hear the bell ring as she steps outside once more.

________

As I step outside of the library and into my car, my phone gives a small ding. I look down at the illuminated screen, my heart leaping into my throat as I realize that my newest message is from Charlie.

I'll only do it if you do it, too.

I hesitate. Standing up and sharing something in front of the entire class? It might be slightly embarrassing for Charlie, but it would be downright humiliating for me. Everyone already knows me as the bullied girl—Lord knows I don't need anymore crap in my life.

But, ever since the Library Agreement started, I've begun to realize that people's comments don't bother me as much anymore. That I have stopped being paranoid and started—living.

So maybe I should live tomorrow. Maybe I should live, and not worry. Just this once.

I type back,

Sounds like a plan.

I can practically see his surprised expression from here.

Really? Comes the reply. You'll really do it?

I can't help it—I laugh, right there in my car, out loud.

Yes, you i***t. I'll do it.

He doesn't respond. I suddenly feel bad for calling him an i***t.

You know I mean that in the kindest way possible. Now, I'm going to head home. I'm tired, and tomorrow's a busy day.

About fifteen seconds later, not even before I have the keys in the ignition, I see his response.

Thank you, Hailey. For everything.