"What are you reading?"

A voice somewhere in the library reached L's ears, and she glanced around from her perch atop a chair to see where it was coming from. She had heard nothing but footsteps and squeaking wheels since she had arrived―an aide was reshelving books, her presence accounting for the footsteps, and the ladder she was using for the squeaking.

She couldn't see anyone who might have spoken to her―the voice sounded male, and young, and most of the other children were out throwing snow at each other that afternoon―so she returned to her book.

"Hello? What are you reading over there?"

The voice again, and L looked up further in case she had missed something―which was unlikely, she told herself―and again found nothing. But she found herself slightly unnerved, and pretended to return to the book. It would probably provoke a response from whoever was speaking to her, anyways.

"I know you can hear me," said the voice, as expected, "even if you are trying to ignore me. Just tell me what you're reading."

"Tell me where you are, and I shall tell you what I'm reading," L said, not looking up. The voice laughed.

"Well, that's not very fair, is it?" he said. "You should look harder. It can't be that hard."

L's eyes skimmed over the top of her book, scanning the room again, but she found nothing. "If this is some sort of trick, it's not a very good one," she said, her eyes returning to the text. "I dislike hiding games."

"Unless you're the one that's hiding, right?" said the voice, and L looked up again. "You like to hide places."

"I do not," L replied, which was a bit of a lie; she did like to vex Roger and Quillsh by climbing atop cupboards and into closets, but it hadn't been as fun lately.

"Do too," the voice said cheekily. "You caused a lot of trouble when you first showed up and hid all over the place."

"And do I any longer?" L asked.

"Who am I to say?" the voice replied. "You've been very quiet lately, Little Miss L."

"Do not call me Miss, or Little," L said tartly, and returned to the book. "How do you know me?"

"Oh, I know lots of things," said the voice. "Lots more than you, I bet, Miss L."

"Stop that," L said, and didn't look up, but her grip tightened on the book in annoyance.

"Stop what, Miss L?"

"Stop calling me Miss! I dislike it!" she hissed. The voice laughed, and she wished she could give its owner a good clout in the face.

"I'll stop calling you Miss if you tell me what you're reading."

"And I'll tell you what I'm reading when you stop hiding, you annoying thing," L said, getting much angrier than usual. The book trembled a little in her grip. What a stupid boy. "Why aren't you outside with the rest of those idiots?"

There was a slight murmur, and a very light chuckle, and footsteps. L closed the book on her finger, expecting to see some sort of boy appearing, but it did not happen.

Then a squeak of wheels, and the aide that was shelving books appeared, pushing a wheelchair with a child in it. It was a boy, maybe around 11 or 12, by L's calculations, with dark hair and eyes and a placid smile.

"Afraid I can't go outside, really," he said. "Can't do much of anything, myself."

"Oh," L said curtly, feeling just the slightest bit embarrassed, and returned to the book.

"Thank you for bringing me over," the boy said, craning his neck to glance at the aide, who nodded and left. "Now that I'm here, tell me what you're reading?"

"The Catcher in the Rye," L replied, but did not look up to make eye contact with the boy in the chair.

"Oh, I see," said the boy. "Any good?"

"No," L replied. The boy laughed.

"Really? I've heard it's a classic, or something like that. It's bad?" he said.

"The main character is a disgusting person," L said, and glanced up for the merest of seconds over the book. The boy was still smiling a little. She looked back at the book again. "He has absolutely no regard for anyone but himself. It's a trait I dislike very much."

"Really," said the boy. "Anything else?" L didn't do anything, so he continued. "Huh, can't be all that bad, then. I mean, if you don't like one character in the book, it doesn't mean the book itself is bad."

"The main character is the narrator," L said dryly. "His point of view isn't a very nice one."

"Ah," said the boy. "So is it really that bad?"

"To put it lightly, it's awful," L said, feeling particularly scathing. Her vocabulary was getting a nice workout, she felt.

"Then why are you halfway through it?" said the boy, and L looked up. Her cheeks flushed a slight shade deeper than normal in embarrassment. "If it's such a bad book, why are you still reading?"

The boy looked like he was about to laugh, and L glowered, her cheeks going pale again. "I want to see if the author will redeem himself by the ending," she said. "Sometimes the ending is the best part of the book."

"Read it backwards, then," said the boy, finally laughing. L noticed that only his head seemed to move when he laughed, his shoulders oddly stationary.

"Why would I do that?" L said. "That wouldn't make any sense."

"But you said endings were the best part," said the boy.

"Only on rare occasions!" L said, and returned to the book quite discontentedly. She peered over it again. "Why are you bothering me?"

"Because I want to," said the boy.

"Oh, shut up," said L, her eyes darting to the text, and the boy laughed again.

"You're much more interesting than the other girls here," he said. "Even the bookish ones that stayed inside today."

"If that's intended to be a compliment, then thank you," L said flatly.

"It is, and you're welcome," said the boy. "You're kind of an enigma, y'know. I wanted to know who you were."

"Flattered," L said.

"No, honestly!" the boy said. "Nobody knows a thing about you; you always keep to yourself, or get in trouble. Plus that whole thing with that name of yours. Most people think it's just a nickname or something, but you never know. Who named you after a letter, anyways?"

"You ask a lot of questions, Nosy One," L said. "You haven't even told me your name, you know."

"Ah, sorry," said the boy. "I'm Josiah."

"Josiah." L tasted the word in her mouth,

"Yeah, Josiah," he said. "I, uh, don't have any nicknames of my own, really."

"What gives you the assumption I have nicknames?" L said. "I just have one name. Just L."

"That's kinda... I dunno, neat," said Josiah. "Your real name's really L?"

"Yes."

"Huh. Your parents give you that name?" he asked. "Must have been really―"

"My mother named me, but improperly," said L. Merely mentioning the woman brought back memories, and her naked toes curled. "I chose my current, proper name myself."

"What did she name you?" Josiah asked, but L refused to answer. "Ah. Embarrassing, is it?"

"Mortifyingly," L said sarcastically. Josiah let out a slightly nervous chuckle.

"Okay, then, we won't talk about it," he said. "Why do you call yourself L, then?"

"Various reasons," L replied, and turned the page. "Mostly because girls names are so idiotic. I hate girls."

"But you are a girl," said Josiah.

L looked up, and stared at the boy in the chair. "No, I'm not," she said.

Josiah burst into laughter, with his strange frozen shoulders. "Not a girl, huh? No way. Unless you really are a guy..." His laughter stopped, and he stared at L in an expression that was almost surprised and pitiful. "Wow, then it really would be embarrassing to have a girl's name."

"I'm not a boy either," L said, glaring and her fingers tightening on the book again.

Josiah laughed again, but it began to sound forced, in a way. "Then what are you?" he said.

"A human being," said L. "Just a person. Like a letter. Or... something of that sort." She closed the book and looked at the pattern of horses on its cover. "Stop bothering me."

"But I'm nosy," Josiah said with a mischievous grin. "You should know that. I won't stop until I get answers, Miss L."

L's fingers curled around the book tightly. "I asked you to stop calling me that," she said.

"Miss L, Miss L," Josiah said in a sing-songy tone, bobbing his head about as if listening to some music that L could not hear. "Lovely Little Miss L, with eyes like onyx and hair like jet! Lovely Miss L; Princess L, even."

"Stop it, stop it, stop it!" L said, and when he didn't, she tossed the book at him.

However, he did not catch it, as she had expected, and it instead hit him square in the chest.

"Ow! That hurts! That really hurts!" Josiah said, wincing, his fingers curling weakly, but he did not move his arms to rub where he had been hurt, or adjust the book that lay, pages bending unnaturally, against his leg. "Why'd you go and do that?"

"Why didn't you catch it?" L replied. "You could have caught it."

Josiah smiled weakly as the pain ebbed away. "I can't," he said, and wiggled his fingers as he had been doing previously. "Nearly-paralyzed from the neck down. See? Can only really move my fingers, and that's just because I've been practicing. Parents gave me up 'cause I'd be too expensive to raise."

"...oh," said L, and held her knees. Her thin eyebrows knit together and upwards. "Pardon me for throwing the book at you, then, but stop calling me names."

"Hey, it's okay. Really," said Josiah. "Don't suppose you could really tell, huh?"

"Only slightly," L replied. "I... shouldn't have done that."

Josiah laughed unexpectedly. "Well, I guess I sorta deserved it," he said. "You really were serious about the whole name-calling thing. Sorry about that."

"Apology accepted," L said. "Now, if you'll excuse me, Nosy Thing, I have to go to my Spanish lesson."

"Come back to the library again soon," Josiah said with a smile, as she dismounted the chair. "I'd like to talk to you more."

"I don't know if I'll agree to that," L said, picking the book, the pages of which were now bent rather badly out of shape, up off his lap. "Good-bye."

Carrying the thing away, Josiah said, brightly, "Bye! See you later, L."

What an annoying boy.

-///-

"I was bothered today," L said abruptly in the middle of her lesson, as she sat at a table with Quillsh in a more private study. A cup of tea, several heaping spoonfuls of sugar added, sat half-finished to her right.

"Really? By what?" said Quillsh, setting down the flashcards that held L's new set of vocabulary to learn. He peered curiously over his glasses.

"Some boy in the library. He seemed to have an interest in me," she replied.

"A boy? Having an interest in you?" Quillsh said, tapping the cards on the table as his mouth drooped downward in interest.

"Perplexing, I know," L replied, almost teasing. Quillsh chuckled.

"What is his name?" he asked.

"Josiah."

"Oh, that one," he said, and neatly shuffled the flashcards.

"You know him?" said L, and reached for her tea.

"I know every child in his house, L," Quillsh said matter-of-factly, and shuffled the flashcards again.

"Oh," L said. "Then what makes him unique, other than his physical state?"

"Ah, you mean the wheelchair?" said Quillsh, and set down the cards, face-down, permanently. "Well, he's exceptionally bright. Exceptionally. Reminds me, somewhat, of you. Much more social, however."

L sipped her tea spitefully. "Really."

"Well, more of a passing resemblance," Quillsh chuckled, and L stoically took another sip of tea. "Very observant, he is. And very kind."

Again, L said, "Really."

Quillsh frowned a little. "You certainly don't look pleased."

"He's an annoying thing," she replied. "He made me mad and ruined my afternoon."

"Did he, now?" said Quillsh.

"I threw a book at him," L said.

Quillsh sighed, and kneaded his forehead a little as L sipped her tea. "Not this again."

"I apologized properly, however, and did not harm him harshly," she said, and glared at him. "It was not like Anthony."

It had been a few months since the incident with Anthony, that much was true, but the event was still fresh in both of their minds. Anthony had avoided L at all costs ever since, going so far as to run to the farthest part of the hallway from her if he ever happened to pass her there.

"Well, all right, then. What did he do, to make you throw the book at him?" Quillsh said, binding the flashcards with a rubber band.

"Called me names," she replied. "Princess L."

Quillsh fought the urge to laugh, and lost. "What?"

"Called me Miss L, and Princess L," L grumbled, and Quillsh continued to laugh. "I don't see what's funny!"

"Princess L... goodness, I'm going to have quite a talk with him about this. I'm sorry, it sounds funny," he said; and then asked, of all things, "What book did you throw at him, by the way?"

"The Catcher in the Rye," L said, and held her teacup dejectedly upside-down. It was empty. "I don't like it very much."

"So I see," Quillsh said. "Was he hurt badly?"

"He seems fine; the book's pages got bent, however, but I don't care," said L, and dangled the teacup from her index finger. "If something more severe occurs, then all the blame is mine."

"It's refreshing to see you so civil, L," said Quillsh. L gave no reply, her eyes fixed on the teacup. He laced his fingers together. "Ahem." She looked at him briefly. "Would you be interested in traveling somewhere again?"

"New York, again?" said L, her eyes darting to him again. "I will not wear a dress."

"No, no, not there..." Quillsh said. "I was thinking more along the lines of... Spain, perhaps?"

"What would we be doing there?" L asked.

"Visiting, sight-seeing, practicing your fluency," he said. "If you wish to go, we'll be departing on Sunday."

"Then we shall do that," said L, and put down the teacup. Cat-like, she stepped down from the chair and made her way to the door.

"And where are you going?" Quillsh asked, getting up as well to put away the flashcards.

"I shall go inform Josiah of my absence," she said. "I don't want the nosy thing to be wasting his time waiting for me in the library while we're gone."

Quillsh chuckled as the girl left, and neatly filed the flashcards away in a drawer.

-///-

L decided that Spain was much more boring than she originally thought.

She had no problem with speaking fairly fluently to people, and there wasn't much to see that interested her. There had been a puppeteer on the street that was very good at what he did, manipulating the strings on his little wooden dog so well that it very well may have been alive. L thought he did a fantastic job, and after asking Wammy, dropped the man a little money. He grinned with many missing teeth, and made the remainder of her day a little less boring.

There was a Wammy House in Madrid, which Quillsh arranged for them to stay at, and the orphans were somewhat more well-mannered than the children back at home, L thought, if not half as smart. She holed herself up in the library and practiced reading in Spanish, unless Quillsh wanted to take her somewhere. Usually, the places he took her were just slightly more interesting than the orphanage, but nothing to write home about.

Upon returning home, L found Josiah waiting for her in the library, reclined comfortably in an armchair. His legs dangled, limp and seemingly lifeless, over the edge of the cushions.

"Nice to see you home," he said with a smile, and she began up a ladder to the bookshelves.

"Spain was utterly boring," L replied. "I'm glad to have returned."

Josiah laughed. "Is that so? What did you do?"

"Absolutely nothing, Nosy One," she replied, choosing a book. "And what have you been doing? I told you not to wait for me in the library while I'm gone."

"My aide told me you'd be coming back today, and I wanted somebody new to read to me," he said. "I can't really read books on my own, you know."

"As I can assume," L said, climbing down the ladder. "What makes you think I read well aloud?"

"Just a feeling," Josiah said sunnily. L sighed, and reached the floor. "If you don't want to read to me, why don't you tell me what you did in Spain?"

"Suppose I wish to read alone; would you honor my decision?" she replied, slightly annoyed.

"Well, that's no fun," said Josiah. "Come on, tell me what you did in Spain."

Holding her copy of Gulliver's Travels, L perched on the wide arm of Josiah's chair, and told him everything.

"Next time, I'll have to write you a letter," she said, after finishing. "It's far too bothersome to say it all."

"You didn't say much of anything, you know," Josiah replied. "I enjoyed it anyways. Are you going to read to me, now?"

"Absolutely not," L replied, and left for her room.

Josiah laughed, smiling and enjoying the memory of her dry recollection of Spain, and hoping she'd come back soon. She was definitely more interesting than the rest of the girls at the House.

L was resolved, however, to send the bothersome boy a letter the next time Quillsh took her somewhere. They were going to start French lessons soon.