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Tawny did it. She finally got what she wanted: a proper study session for her English Literature project.
After her last class, Tawny made her way to Ivoree Gates’ storied library building.
To call it a library seemed like an understatement. It was like the library from Beauty and the Beast hepped up on steroids.
The moment Tawny passed the foreboding stone gargoyles and past the threshold of the entrance, her jaw dropped.
The space was MASSIVE. There appeared to be no walls; only shelves. Shelves upon shelves of books, spanning from floor to ceiling stretching as far as the eye could see.
The atmosphere dripped dark academia, practically oozing intelligence, sophistication, and history. Every inch of the library felt like it held a magical secret.
One thing that struck her as odd was how deserted the library seemed. If left to her own devices, Tawny would live in the library, immersing herself in the miles upon miles of tomes that decorated the space like wallpaper.
She walked to the information desk, where a middle-aged plump woman with glasses and her hair in a bun sat. The woman was preoccupied, engrossed in what looked to be a salacious harlequin paperback novel.
Tawny cleared her throat. The woman glanced up from her book, a look of amazement on her face.
“Oh!” she said. “I beg your pardon. “It’s usually so dead in here....some shifts I barely see a single person!”
“I find that hard to believe,” said Tawny, admiring the library’s architecture. “This place is gorgeous...I don’t think I’d ever leave.”
The woman beamed, and set her book down. “Well, generally it’s a struggle to pull a teen away from the screen. What’s your name?”
“Tawny Matthews,” Tawny extended her hand toward the woman.
The woman graciously took her hand and shook it. “Linda Branson - head librarian. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Tawny.”
“Likewise,” said Tawny. “I was hoping you could help me. I’m looking for a good section for studying.”
“How odd,” mused Linda. “You’re the second person in the past ten minutes to ask that question. It just so happens I directed a young man to Westminster Hall C for that same purpose - dark, quiet. The perfect little study haven.”
“That must’ve been Dylan,” said Tawny. “I guess he beat me here.”
Suddenly, Linda’s face went dark. It was as if the life was sucked out of her eyes. “Oh. That was...Dylan?”
“Yeah...hey are you alright?”
“Yes, it’s just...wow. Dylan is in our library...”
“Riiihght...” Tawny was getting uncomfortable. “Anyway, can you point me to Westminster Hall C?”
Linda pointed down a hall to the left.
“Thanks,” said Tawny, but Linda seemed very deep in thought. Tawny decided to forget the strange encounter and walk down the corridor, following the signs to the illustrious Westminster Hall C.
---
This section of the library felt like a church. Gothic, gothic, and gothic galore, with high stainglass windows that dampened any daylight that deigned to seep into the hall.
Tawny came to a section that was full of wide tables with chairs. The only other occupant was Dylan, sitting in the far corner of the hall, furiously writing something down.
Wow, thought Tawny. This library seems to have a strange effect on people. It even got Dylan to sit down and focus.
Dylan’s back was to Tawny, so she decided she would try to sneak up on him. Tiptoeing over to him, she waited until she was right behind Dylan before swiping up his paper.
“Whatcha got there?” Tawny said, paper in hand.
“Hey!” said a startled Dylan. “Give it BACK!”
“Uh-uh, I just had to see for myself you doing homework...”
Tawny looked at the paper, but was surprised to see a paper completely covered in oil pastels.
Vibrant reds, greens, and yellows were etched on the paper, an abstract melange of art. Immediately it brought to mind her chalk dream with Professor McCurdy...
Dylan snatched the paper back and stuffed it into his backpack. “Were you raised in a barn or something? Do you have any idea how rude it is to just take something while someone is in the middle of working on it?!”
“Sorry...” Tawny said, timidly. She felt like a tool.
“Yeah...” Dylan growled, lookng up at her resentfully. “Well, I’m here. In the library, like you wanted. So...let’s do this thing.”
“Right,” Tawny sat down in the seat across from Dylan and the two of them got to work.
---
Progress went surprisingly smooth. Although they had only agreed to spend an hour tops in the library, they had taken on so much momentum that after 3 hours they actually completed the project.
After putting the finishing touches and finesses, they both stood up and admired their handiwork on the table.
“Wow...I can’t believe we did it....” said Dylan.
“I know. I think we make quite the team,” replied Tawny. “When we put our minds to something.”
She expected Dylan to give his standard scoff in response, but now witty retort came. Dylan merely nodded, seemingly giving his approval. This was new...
“Hey, listen,” Tawny said. Dylan’s intense eyes met hers and for a moment her mind went black.
“Yeah?” said Dylan. “What is it?”
Tawny shook her head to gather her thoughts. “I’m sorry snatched that paper out of your hands like that. It wasn’t cool,”
“Hmm,” Dylan shrugged.
“It was beautiful, though,” Tawny added. “You really have a way with colours.”
“Yeah?” asked Dylan, who now seemed genuinely flattered. “It’s...nothing. Just something I do as a form of art therapy...”
“A-hem,” both Dylan and Tawny turned to see Linda standing several metres from them, looking apologetic.
“So...sorry to interrupt,” said Linda. “But it’s closing time. I came to collect you two.”
“It’s alright, Linda,” said Dylan. “We were just about to leave.”
Linda took a step back, stunned at Dylan’s calm response. “Oh...Mr. Matthews.”
“Let’s go, Tawny,” said Dylan, grabbing his things and departing from the hall, with Tawny following closely in tow.
---
When they reached the stone steps of the library outside, the night sky was dotted with clouds. But the full moon glowed defiantly in an empty patch of deep royal blue.
Tawny folded her arms and shuddered. “I didn’t realize how late it was...”
“Do you need a lift...?” asked Dylan.
Tawny whipped her head to look at him, aghast.
“No, no!” Dylan said, waving his arms. “Not like those other times. I drove myself today.”
He pulled out his keys attached to a small device that unlocks cars. He clicked the device, and something in the distance made a chirping noise.
Tawny followed Dylan until they both stopped in front of a sleek red Porsche. She was struggling to remember where she had seen the car before, then remembered that it was on her first day of school, when the screen of her phone unfortunately broke.
Regardless, Tawny tamped her feelings down and slid into the passenger seat as Dylan held the door for her.
The leather seats were buttery soft, much nicer than the ones in Professor McCurdy’s humble car. She admired the interior, all top-of-the-line, state-of-the-art features. She half expected to find a button that would trigger an oil slick or catapult her out of her seat through the roof of the car.
“Seatbelts,” instructed Dylan as he put his own on. Tawny did the same just as Dylan’s foot slammed the accelerator and they raced down the street like greased lightning.
ns 15.158.61.21da2
