i do not own stravagazer (can't even spell it)
Jack Quill was in the library. It was a location he seemed to find himself in increasingly often. He just needed somewhere to relax, somewhere peaceful. The normal daily life had got so stressful since his family had moved. Since Katie had died…
He bit his tongue tears welling in his eyes. He couldn't stop thinking about his twin sister's death. Every time her name was even mentioned he started crying uncontrollable. He couldn't start now this was his statuary this was were he was supposed to get away from all this stuff.
He desperately scanned the shelves for something to distract him. Anything to deter him from the horrors of his so-called life. And that's when he saw a book. The book. It stood out because all the other books spins were plastic; this one was leather.
He slid it out from the shelf. Surprisingly the words were in Italian but even more surprisingly he could read the front cover. The beginners guide to sword fighting. Jack had never had a talent for languages, or any other subject really, so it came as quite a shock that he had learned a whole one in the last three seconds.
This book had his full attention now. He examined it closely and got another surprise. The book didn't actually come form the libery at all. It had no dust jacket, no readers log and no barcode. It was almost as if someone had just slipped it on the shelf. And there was another funny thing the book was old very old. It was actually handwritten with beautiful penmanship and the leather was probably made in the old fashion way with animal skin and urine (he was too fascinated to be revolted). Yet as well as being ancient it also looked new. He wasn't blowing dust off it; it wasn't covered in spider webs. It could have been made yesterday. He wasn't going to let a discovery like this disappear without a trace he had too much of that already.
Is casually as he could Jack slipped the book into his bag and walked out of the libery.
"Hi Ronald, not getting anything today?" asked the librarian as he walked past
"Nope maybe next time" the sixteen-year-old replied, rolling his eyes to heaven. With his emerald green eyes and thick ginger hair and freckles people often commented Jack Quill looked a lot like Ronald Weasly from Harry Potter, which was kinda ironic because the fictional character didn't really like going to the libery at all. He walked towards the lift as calmly as he could but inside he was buzzing. He couldn't wait to get home and unravel the secretes of this book. Who had written it? What was it doing in a public libery? Why had he found it? Was it fate? Luck? Destiny? Jack didn't know but he did know this book had made him feel more exited since... no concantrate
of corse he stravagates to a libary