Disclaimer: Still not mine.
A/N: I promise the lone gunmen will be in it shortly!
Cabin seven seemed to already be inhibited when I arrived, from a slightly ajar door some punk-boyband screeched out and a cart of abysmally strong cleaning chemicals sat unused. Unused for cleaning anyway.
"Hey you stayin' here?" asked the girl in the room.
"Um yeah." I said.
She was no more then sixteen and a gerneric adolcent girl. I've seen a dozen of girls like her in the library using the computers to email friends and hanging out to avoid doing any real work.
"'Kay, I'll be done in a sec." She said.
Doing what? She didn't seem to be doing anything, except listening to music. She pulled the cart out of the room carrying faded paperback. I felt kind of guilty when I saw the title. The Scarlet Letter by Nathanial Hawthorne. Ouch. My coscience would eat me alive later.
"That's a good book." I said.
"Huh? Yeah it is I guess. I gotta read it for class.Kinda confusing."
"Yeah it can be, but I normally recommend it to kids about your age."
"Oh. Are you a teacher?"
"I'm a librarian"
"Oh. Well, do you know anything about like the symbolism and stuff?"
Never get a librarian started on literature. About twenty minutes later we were still standing outside my room talking about it until somebody screamed for the girl.
"I gotta go. Can you help me tomarrow, at breakfast?" she asked.
Sorry I'm going…where am I going? Leaving seemed so hazy besides it's a librarian's creed to help those in literary distress, well it's an unspoken creed anyway.
"Sure."
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