The Misdemeanours Between Two 17-year-olds and A Library

“May I help you?”

I startled slightly, swivelling around to face the deep voice that addressed me. I come face to face – or rather, face to chest – with a guy. He might’ve been around my age, about 17 or a bit older, with black mussed-up hair and tired eyes.

“I’m looking for the librarian,” I say meekly, hiding behind a curtain of my hair.

His eyes lit up, apparently amused. “Never seen a librarian so young, have you?”

His taunting tone grated my nerves, and I grimaced.

“I was hoping to find someone that fits the description, you know? Maybe an old woman with white hair and pantyhose?” I rolled my eyes, annoyed. “She definitely would’ve been easier to talk to,” I muttered more to myself.

“What’s stopping you from talking to me? Is it because I’m way too hot for your taste?” He flexed jokingly as if just to prove his point. I tried to hide the fact that I started checking him out right then.

“More like too cocky,” I retort, narrowing my eyes. “Anyway, I came here looking for a book. I want to read the Hunger Games, if you have it here. Mind if you point me in the right direction, uhhh…”

I look at his chest now, finding a nametag with a name printed on it. 

“Jake Henderson.” Jake? I probably would’ve thought his name was asshole with his manners, which were most likely nonexistent.

He smirks before walking away in confident strides. “Gladly. I’ll even walk you there, courtesy of my manners.” It’s like he read my mind. “Although, I’m not sure if you want that book,” he says warily.

“Of course I do. It is in popular demand. Might as well read it now,” I say, then narrow my eyes. “And no need for walking me all the way there. Surely I can find my way.” 

I cross my arms defensively, remembering how small the library was from outside. I had been surprised to see everybody walking by casting wary glances toward it. What can I say, curiosity got the best of me. 

And I wasn’t disappointed. The stacks of books perfume the air with old-book smell. The quaint shop was covered in fairylights, as if coming to life from a fairytale in countless of the books there.

We walk several paces in silence, although it was strangely loud, a king of buzzing in the background. The library felt alive, even in silence. The books seemed to hum lowly, dark knowledge and bright worlds begging to be devoured. My hands itch to open them, as if I’m a kid in a candy store. Just not as many sugary delights that would probably make me obese by the age of twenty.

I scanned the library, looking for any other sign of life. It was deserted, as I thought it was before this ‘librarian’ appeared. I turned towards Jake, finding he was staring at me intently, an unknowing look in his eyes. I realized they are a transparent green, a seemingly neverending ocean of emotions trapped in his eyes.

“What?” I snap, trying to hide the blush creeping up my cheeks.

“Nothing,” he mutters, his face slowly going blank, wiping any traces of the look previously on his face. He recovers. “You know, it is customary that when someone gives you their name you repay them with yours.”

“It’s Toni Ramirez. Why? Are you curious to know who is the only person that stepped in your library at this hour?” I scan the shelves, looking at anything but him. The books seem to have no title. That’s odd. 

“Considering it is eleven p.m. on a Friday night, I would’ve assumed everyone was out partying at this point.”

“Not everyone is the same as the cookie-cutter highschool teenager they see in the movies.” I sigh, thinking I might be the only one in my friend group without any STDs. Lord knows what they do at those God-forsaken parties. 

I sneak a curious glance at Jake. What is such a good-looking jackass doing running a library at eleven on a Friday night? And why was there a library open at eleven p.m.?

“I would like to take that as a compliment,” he says with bright eyes, making me realize I had just spoken out loud. We’re still walking. The library seems never-ending. “And if you paid attention to the sign outside, you would’ve realized this is a library that is open twentyfour- seven called the Midnight Library.”

“I think I’ve heard of a book like that,” I say, changing the subject. It’s hard covering up how flustered I was. I hesitate “So Jake, are we there yet?”

“Almost,” he replies with a mischievous glint in his eyes. 

After some time he looks at me, genuinely curious, no mask to suppress his emotions. He asks, “Why have you chosen to come here for your book?”

“I had to return it to the library when I was half finished with it. It closed down, unfortunately,” I sigh. None of my friends understood my connection to the horrid place, as they called it. 

“Nobody seems to appreciate the wonders books can bring to someone.” Jake sighs, one full of emotion and that spoke more than words.

Then he stops abruptly, making me bump into his back. “We’re here,” he says ominously. He pulls out a black hardcover book with no title. It seems to suck the light around it, and I feel it pulse as I slip it from Jake’s big hands. They were warm to touch and I will myself not to blush. Wow, Toni. You are trying to buy a book and this boy is all you can think about.

“Thank you,” I say stoically. I turn around to walk away, but his hand catches my elbow, spinning me back around. I think I forgot how to breathe.

“You might want to try it out here, see if it’s suitable for you.”

I raise an eyebrow, but comply. No use buying it if I don’t like it.

“And remember this: do not interfere with the characters. If you only stand by and watch, you’ll be invisible to everyone else. And be careful. This book is more dangerous than others. If you absolutely have to get out, repeat the phrase The Midnight Library has more in store for me. And just so you know, it might be a rough landing.”

I take a deep breath and open it at the middle, or what I assume is the middle – there are no page numbers – waiting for the unexpected. Nothing happens. A minute passes. Then two.

“Enjoy the trip,” he grins, one that lights up his whole face, crinkling his eyes. That is definitely a way to disarm someone and catch them off guard.

“Is this a jo-” I can’t finish because the air is sucked out of my lungs and everything goes black.

______________________________________________________________________________

I sit still in the darkness, choking on lack of air. My chest is heavy. Something is pressed down on me and it weighs a ton. Where am I?

Next, cheering erupts around me. No, not cheering. Screams, I realized with a start. The world becomes brighter, sun shining down, down, down. I sputter and cough, wheezing in the fresh air – or something close to it anyway. It smells of coal and dust.

My eyes open, and I see someone looking down at me curiously. It is a man with white gear on, a pistol slung across his shoulder. He holds out an open hand, beckoning for my arm.

I stumbled to my feet on my own, ignoring the man’s outstretched hand. He dropped it reluctantly and pointed in the direction where several teenagers seemed to be filing in a line. I followed them blindly, disregarding the pain in my legs.

The teenagers were herded off in what was most likely the main square.

“I volunteer as tribute.”

I wake up from my daze. Of course. The words so famously said by Katniss Everdeen in the book, The Hunger Games.

No way. This can’t be happening, this can’t be happening.

But it was. As clear as day, I saw the reaping happening in front of my eyes. And not how it was in the movie either. It was exactly how it was described in the book.

And suddenly, out of all the things I could have done in that moment, I laughed. And not just a chuckle or a giggle, it was a full-on bellyaching laugh. I heard it again, and again. It echoed back throughout the silent crowd.

I looked down, and it was my body, my body, covered in rags and dirt and dust and grime. I was really there. And it was better than I could even imagine.

“Do we have another volunteer in Katniss’ place?”

And just as quickly as it came, the laughter huffed out of my body, because everyone was staring at me, eyes wide, wide, wide. Nobody laughs on Reaping Day.

I shrink back, retreating to the shadows. And everything changes. As if I wasn’t there, invisible in their eyes. Just as Jake said.

I was about to have another fit of happiness before I remembered what just happened. No need to experience that again.

I watched, and watched, watched, watched. It played out as I had read. Who wants some movie theater ripoff when I can have something even better. 

______________________________________________________________________________

Everything worked out perfectly. I watched the whole movie, or rather, the book. I would’ve asked for popcorn with butter if I didn’t have to stay invisible. It was a little lonely at times, not being able to talk to anyone. And in the boring moments – because there are boring moments in all books and movies – I had enough time to think about the mysterious boy by the name of Jake Henderson. Maybe there was a key to his puzzle.

 It all ran smoothly almost the whole time.

Emphasis on almost.

The arena is a scary place to visit in real life. Although I love the Hunger Games, next time I think I would rather snuggle in my bed with a hot chocolate instead of chasing after Katniss Everdeen in a kids’ death match. I really have to work on my cardio.

And the tree climbing. Don’t even get me started on it. Beyonce with heels could’ve done it better than me.

I heard movement behind me. A slight rustle, small footsteps and then a herd pounding in the distance, louder by the minute. I assumed the running made me visible, which more or less made me their prey. That is definitely not ideal, I thought.

The stomping advanced towards me. I had no more energy. I pant, pant, pant, my last efforts draining.

Suddenly, I feel a sting in my left arm. Not that of a tracker jacker, like I had witnessed earlier. I had seen the effect they had on the tributes. It was not pretty.

I hiss sharply as I bring my right hand to the wound. When I draw it back, it’s covered in blood. Thankfully, it’s not deep, adn I stare at it. I start to feel dizzy, anyway. Nausea overcomes my senses.

I probably didn’t choose the right book with my self-prescribed hemophobia. I laugh at my own joke despite the circumstances. Yeah, that’s how far gone I was. 

The thundering brought me back to the present, the present where it is possible I’m going to die. Not the most promising thing to think about when you are stuck in this hellhole.

Then, a sting in my right arm. One in my leg. Another, and another, and another. My steps slow, heavy breathing, eyelids flutter closed. I don’t want to die I don’t want to die I don’t want to die.

Then a memory of a familiar yet unknown face comes to my mind, and then a spark revives. Special rules pouring from his lips, and the phrase: The Midnight Library has more in store for me.

“The Midnight Library has more in store for me,” I whisper tiredly, my voice barely audible over the sound of running. Then louder.

“The Midnight Library has more in store for me.” Even louder now.

“The Midnight Library has more in store for me! I have more to visit and lots to see,” I yell with more conviction. I scream until my voice is hoarse. The game makers must have been very surprised to see an extra person in the arena. Definitely unexpected.

I’m sweating now. Not that I wasn’t sweating before. It is definitely a workout to follow around someone from the Hunger Games. I must stink like a pig, but definitely not worse than the tributes. 

But I couldn’t  care less. Because I could feel my body drifting further and further away, as if my soul was leaving my body. Let’s hope I wasn’t dying, yet. Goodbye, Hunger Games.

______________________________________________________________________________

A now familiar pair of green eyes appeared above me, filled with worry and concern. How’d I end up on the ground again?

I had imagined his eyes at many moments throughout the movie, some purposely, some completely unexpected. And the last grin he gave me. A grin not meant for strangers.

Maybe we don’t have to be strangers. There’s just something about him that pulled me in deeper.

“Are you okay?”

What does okay mean anymore? I definitely didn’t feel the best, with my post-book travel headache and wind knocked out of me. I checked for scars on my arms and legs. The faintest feeling of the wounds was there.

But the difference was that I felt more alive now, even after my supposed near-death experience.

I struggle to respond, my lungs still recovering. I give the tiniest of nods, but he seems to have understood. He gives me a smile, the same smile that made his eyes crinkle. A smile that is definitely not for the faint-hearted. Especially since my heart is beating a million miles an hour, as if it just ran a marathon.

He grabs my hand, picking me up with ease. His smile shows his perfectly white teeth, one slightly chipped at the corner.

“I told you it would be a rough landing.” A guarded look then crosses his face. “I suppose you won’t be visiting anytime soon after your first encounter.”

“You’re nowhere close,” I say with the biggest smile on my face.

I turned around, surveying the shelves that seemed to go on and on. What now seemed like the possibility of dying now seemed like a never-ending supply of opportunity. My eyes shined brightly, and even under the dim fairylights, I could see Jake’s hope shifts as well.

“Let’s do that again.”

If possible, his smile widened even more. “I thought you’d never ask.”