Disclaimer: Ricky belongs to Louis Sachar. Can you believe it?
Author's Note: HAPPY CANADA DAY! **waves a Canadian flag** OK, that was yesterday (or the day before yesterday, since it's 12:01 AM right now). July 1st. Heehee.... O CANADA! OUR HOME AND NATIVE LAND-- OK, I'll stop. Oh, and one more thing: I'm over my Zigzag obsession, so this chapter might not be very good, although it's very long (mostly because of the description of library. What can I say? I like books!). I'm kind of mad at him right now. Not really, but kind of. Well, that's all. On with the story!
~*~
Chapter 2
'Today is the tomorrow we worried about yesterday.'--Anonymous
As the day had been uneventful so far, Ricky had spent it wondering why Eleanor of all people had offered to give up her free time to be with another human being. She never spoke to anyone if she didn't have to, but she had said a whole sentence to him without any 'um's or 'uh's. It was... creepy. One day she's silent, and the next she's asking him to meet her at the public library! Maybe she was planning to kill him when he got there and-- He banged his head against his desk while muttering, "Don't be stupid!"
The whole class turned around in their seats and a few snickered and whispering things like "Psycho," or "Crazy," while the rest just looked frightened. Ricky really didn't care-- he had just learned that banging your head against a desk looked a whole lot better in cartoons and what they were saying or thinking didn't seem too important. They already thought he was a nutcase, so why should he care if he received a few strange looks?
"Are you all right, Ricky?" the teacher asked, looking a little worried as well.
"Yes, ma'am." He didn't know why he called teachers 'sir' or 'ma'am'. That was just one of the many reasons people thought he was weird. He had always done it, probably for a reason when he was younger, but now it was just a habit. The teacher gave a tiny sigh, turned back to the board, and returned to what she had been doing. Before he could start contemplating what had caused Eleanor to act so strangely again, he forced himself to pay attention. After all, this was Math class and he would never have had to go to the library after school today if he had only paid attention earlier.
Unfortunately, paying attention meant having to ignore what the others were saying about him and now that a few minutes had passed since when his head had connected with his desk, he did care what they were saying or thinking. They were always talking about him, but he could keep them out of his mind if he concentrated hard on something. Just like they kept him out of their little group of 'cool' people. It wasn't like he wanted to be in that group or anything, but being told that he was funny or smart or even just nice would be appreciated. The last time someone had told him he was funny was a few years ago, before they thought he was crazy. They had still thought he was weird, but at least they had been laughing with him, not at him.
No one was staring at him now, they had all gone back to what they had been doing. Some were actually learning something from the lesson, some were sleeping, some were whispering to their friends. Probably whispering about him, but at least they weren't looking at him anymore.
Or were they?
He stopped trying to think about the lesson and became aware of someone with their eyes still on him. Trying to move as little as possible, he looked around the classroom and saw Eleanor quickly look down at her desk when their eyes met. Why had she been watching him? Maybe it was one of those girl things.
"I will never understand girls..." he muttered, so quietly he wasn't sure if he had said it or thought it. Girls were one of those things that gave you a headache if you thought about them too much. Ricky knew a lot of those things and had had a lot of headaches because of them. He urged himself once again to go back to the lesson. Only two nights ago he had given himself a migraine and he wasn't interested in repeating that.
He sighed, loud enough for the people sitting next to him to notice, but not loud enough for the teacher to ask him if he was all right again. He had, for about the millionth time that day, confused himself.
~*~
The library was never packed, but it was also never empty. You could always count on at least two or three people to be sitting at the tables or browsing through the shelves. The section that was the most crowded was the children's section where little kids were always pulling picture book after picture book from the shelves and dashing to a chair to read or rushing to give their parents what they were carrying to make room for more in their arms. A few adults could be seen every now and then in their section, delicately picking up a paperback novel and flipping through it to see if it interested them. They were the opposite of the younger readers: they were careful when they selected their book and were even more careful when handling what they picked, while little kids would pick any book at random no matter if it interested them or not and flipped the pages quickly, sometimes tearing them.
The tables and armchairs that sat in their own corner were usually occupied by teenagers who needed somewhere quiet to do their homework. The chairs were comfortable and pretty new, the library had only got them in February. Now it was June, and the chairs seemed to have survived those few months. There were no holes poked in them and they were free of stains. The tables, however, were much older and had quite a few messages scratched into them. Several wads of gum had been stuck under the tabletop. It was strange, seeing the chairs, in perfect condition, sitting next to the tables that were anything but in perfect condition.
In general, the library was neat and tidy, not brand new like the chairs and not ancient like the tables, but clean. You could easily find a book on any subject, and there hardly were any missing pages. Occasionally, you could see a small rip, (usually in the children's books) but it was nothing huge. Somehow, whenever somone took a book off the shelf, it was always returned to the right spot, just as it had been, as though the book had some sort of control over their mind.
That was what Ricky thought, at least, as he made his way through the aisles and into the slightly cramped corner where the new armchairs and old tables were. Eleanor, of course, was already sitting there. She seemed to have been there for quite a while, judging by the large bag filled with books sitting by her side. A book called 'The Subtle Knife' was being held tightly in her hands, and she only realised Ricky was there when he shook her not-so-gently by the shoulders.
"Hey, Eleanor, I'm here," he whispered. Not only did you feel responsible for the books when you entered the library, but the urge to speak at even a normal volume left you immediately as well.
"Nora," she corrected, but he guessed she didn't think he heard her, because she then said, "Oh, um, uh, hi." She put down her book. "Um... I'll be right back in a few minutes, OK?" Without waiting for a reply, she walked towards the washroom and out of sight.
Ricky picked up a book from her bag and read the back. It was called 'Tailchaser's Song' and it looked kind of weird, but maybe girls liked it. Girls liked a lot of weird things. Well, not all weird things. Girls might have liked books about cats going on magical quests, like this book, but girls didn't like him. He was weird, but apparently it was a bad kind of weird. Maybe cats going on magical quests weren't weird to girls, but he was. Maybe girls didn't like things that were weird to them, but things that were weird to boys. Maybe--
Luckily, he was saved from further thoughts about girls because one sat down beside him and opened the textbook on the table. Unluckily, she never found the page she was looking for. Eleanor's --or, Nora's-- expression changed from pleasant to sour in a few seconds.
"Where," she said icily, "Is my book?" Ricky stared at her, then pointed to 'Tailchaser's Song', which was right in front of her. He assumed that was what she meant, because he hadn't put it back in the bag.
"I meant 'Pride and Prejudice'." she crossed her arms and glared. Ricky stared at her, but this time from surprise, not confusion.
"You're without it? Isn't that defying some law of nature or someting?" She continued to glower at him.
"Where is it, Ricky?" Another thing that shocked him was how much she was talking. He had thought that her two sentences yesterday had been amazing!
"I..." he wondered if all guys went through this sort of thing, being confused by girls, that is. "I dunno."
"OK, sure, whatever." She put away her stuff, not looking at him. Her hands were shaking slightly.
She got up, and, still not meeting his eyes, headed for the door.
"Eleanor-- Nora-- whatever you want me to call you, where're you goin'?" he asked as loudly as he could. The girl tripped and fell head-over- heels, landing face down on the ground and giving a shriek, somehow quietly, as she fell. The librarian walked by, looking disapproving.
"Sorry," Eleanor mumbled, getting up and brushing herself off. Turning around, she said, "I am going away from you." She then sent him a final glare and stormed out of the library. Ricky walked to the exit and watched as she ran until he couldn't see her anymore. He soon left as well. As he stepped outside, he shook his head sadly.
"Girls," he muttered under his breath. Girls, like cats going on magical quests, were pretty weird.
~*~
Author's Note: Reviews! YAY! I got reviews! **does a happy dance** Thanks to the two people who reviewed my story, you make me feel special! Of course, one of them is my friend, but who cares? Not me! I've got the third chapter written up in my mind, so I'll update soon!
Author's Note: HAPPY CANADA DAY! **waves a Canadian flag** OK, that was yesterday (or the day before yesterday, since it's 12:01 AM right now). July 1st. Heehee.... O CANADA! OUR HOME AND NATIVE LAND-- OK, I'll stop. Oh, and one more thing: I'm over my Zigzag obsession, so this chapter might not be very good, although it's very long (mostly because of the description of library. What can I say? I like books!). I'm kind of mad at him right now. Not really, but kind of. Well, that's all. On with the story!
~*~
Chapter 2
'Today is the tomorrow we worried about yesterday.'--Anonymous
As the day had been uneventful so far, Ricky had spent it wondering why Eleanor of all people had offered to give up her free time to be with another human being. She never spoke to anyone if she didn't have to, but she had said a whole sentence to him without any 'um's or 'uh's. It was... creepy. One day she's silent, and the next she's asking him to meet her at the public library! Maybe she was planning to kill him when he got there and-- He banged his head against his desk while muttering, "Don't be stupid!"
The whole class turned around in their seats and a few snickered and whispering things like "Psycho," or "Crazy," while the rest just looked frightened. Ricky really didn't care-- he had just learned that banging your head against a desk looked a whole lot better in cartoons and what they were saying or thinking didn't seem too important. They already thought he was a nutcase, so why should he care if he received a few strange looks?
"Are you all right, Ricky?" the teacher asked, looking a little worried as well.
"Yes, ma'am." He didn't know why he called teachers 'sir' or 'ma'am'. That was just one of the many reasons people thought he was weird. He had always done it, probably for a reason when he was younger, but now it was just a habit. The teacher gave a tiny sigh, turned back to the board, and returned to what she had been doing. Before he could start contemplating what had caused Eleanor to act so strangely again, he forced himself to pay attention. After all, this was Math class and he would never have had to go to the library after school today if he had only paid attention earlier.
Unfortunately, paying attention meant having to ignore what the others were saying about him and now that a few minutes had passed since when his head had connected with his desk, he did care what they were saying or thinking. They were always talking about him, but he could keep them out of his mind if he concentrated hard on something. Just like they kept him out of their little group of 'cool' people. It wasn't like he wanted to be in that group or anything, but being told that he was funny or smart or even just nice would be appreciated. The last time someone had told him he was funny was a few years ago, before they thought he was crazy. They had still thought he was weird, but at least they had been laughing with him, not at him.
No one was staring at him now, they had all gone back to what they had been doing. Some were actually learning something from the lesson, some were sleeping, some were whispering to their friends. Probably whispering about him, but at least they weren't looking at him anymore.
Or were they?
He stopped trying to think about the lesson and became aware of someone with their eyes still on him. Trying to move as little as possible, he looked around the classroom and saw Eleanor quickly look down at her desk when their eyes met. Why had she been watching him? Maybe it was one of those girl things.
"I will never understand girls..." he muttered, so quietly he wasn't sure if he had said it or thought it. Girls were one of those things that gave you a headache if you thought about them too much. Ricky knew a lot of those things and had had a lot of headaches because of them. He urged himself once again to go back to the lesson. Only two nights ago he had given himself a migraine and he wasn't interested in repeating that.
He sighed, loud enough for the people sitting next to him to notice, but not loud enough for the teacher to ask him if he was all right again. He had, for about the millionth time that day, confused himself.
~*~
The library was never packed, but it was also never empty. You could always count on at least two or three people to be sitting at the tables or browsing through the shelves. The section that was the most crowded was the children's section where little kids were always pulling picture book after picture book from the shelves and dashing to a chair to read or rushing to give their parents what they were carrying to make room for more in their arms. A few adults could be seen every now and then in their section, delicately picking up a paperback novel and flipping through it to see if it interested them. They were the opposite of the younger readers: they were careful when they selected their book and were even more careful when handling what they picked, while little kids would pick any book at random no matter if it interested them or not and flipped the pages quickly, sometimes tearing them.
The tables and armchairs that sat in their own corner were usually occupied by teenagers who needed somewhere quiet to do their homework. The chairs were comfortable and pretty new, the library had only got them in February. Now it was June, and the chairs seemed to have survived those few months. There were no holes poked in them and they were free of stains. The tables, however, were much older and had quite a few messages scratched into them. Several wads of gum had been stuck under the tabletop. It was strange, seeing the chairs, in perfect condition, sitting next to the tables that were anything but in perfect condition.
In general, the library was neat and tidy, not brand new like the chairs and not ancient like the tables, but clean. You could easily find a book on any subject, and there hardly were any missing pages. Occasionally, you could see a small rip, (usually in the children's books) but it was nothing huge. Somehow, whenever somone took a book off the shelf, it was always returned to the right spot, just as it had been, as though the book had some sort of control over their mind.
That was what Ricky thought, at least, as he made his way through the aisles and into the slightly cramped corner where the new armchairs and old tables were. Eleanor, of course, was already sitting there. She seemed to have been there for quite a while, judging by the large bag filled with books sitting by her side. A book called 'The Subtle Knife' was being held tightly in her hands, and she only realised Ricky was there when he shook her not-so-gently by the shoulders.
"Hey, Eleanor, I'm here," he whispered. Not only did you feel responsible for the books when you entered the library, but the urge to speak at even a normal volume left you immediately as well.
"Nora," she corrected, but he guessed she didn't think he heard her, because she then said, "Oh, um, uh, hi." She put down her book. "Um... I'll be right back in a few minutes, OK?" Without waiting for a reply, she walked towards the washroom and out of sight.
Ricky picked up a book from her bag and read the back. It was called 'Tailchaser's Song' and it looked kind of weird, but maybe girls liked it. Girls liked a lot of weird things. Well, not all weird things. Girls might have liked books about cats going on magical quests, like this book, but girls didn't like him. He was weird, but apparently it was a bad kind of weird. Maybe cats going on magical quests weren't weird to girls, but he was. Maybe girls didn't like things that were weird to them, but things that were weird to boys. Maybe--
Luckily, he was saved from further thoughts about girls because one sat down beside him and opened the textbook on the table. Unluckily, she never found the page she was looking for. Eleanor's --or, Nora's-- expression changed from pleasant to sour in a few seconds.
"Where," she said icily, "Is my book?" Ricky stared at her, then pointed to 'Tailchaser's Song', which was right in front of her. He assumed that was what she meant, because he hadn't put it back in the bag.
"I meant 'Pride and Prejudice'." she crossed her arms and glared. Ricky stared at her, but this time from surprise, not confusion.
"You're without it? Isn't that defying some law of nature or someting?" She continued to glower at him.
"Where is it, Ricky?" Another thing that shocked him was how much she was talking. He had thought that her two sentences yesterday had been amazing!
"I..." he wondered if all guys went through this sort of thing, being confused by girls, that is. "I dunno."
"OK, sure, whatever." She put away her stuff, not looking at him. Her hands were shaking slightly.
She got up, and, still not meeting his eyes, headed for the door.
"Eleanor-- Nora-- whatever you want me to call you, where're you goin'?" he asked as loudly as he could. The girl tripped and fell head-over- heels, landing face down on the ground and giving a shriek, somehow quietly, as she fell. The librarian walked by, looking disapproving.
"Sorry," Eleanor mumbled, getting up and brushing herself off. Turning around, she said, "I am going away from you." She then sent him a final glare and stormed out of the library. Ricky walked to the exit and watched as she ran until he couldn't see her anymore. He soon left as well. As he stepped outside, he shook his head sadly.
"Girls," he muttered under his breath. Girls, like cats going on magical quests, were pretty weird.
~*~
Author's Note: Reviews! YAY! I got reviews! **does a happy dance** Thanks to the two people who reviewed my story, you make me feel special! Of course, one of them is my friend, but who cares? Not me! I've got the third chapter written up in my mind, so I'll update soon!
