I don’t get to go outside much. My Mom doesn’t like me to. But one place she’s been letting me go is the library. And the only thing I like to do at the library more than reading is eating. She would be so mad if she knew, we should eat together at home as a family she’d say, but it’s still my favorite.
Rule 1
It's uncomfortable wearing a mask when I go out, but Mom says I have to. And its no different going to the library. I’ve got to keep it on when I walk up the big cracked concrete steps to the only entrance. The double doors open and I walk past the single desk with its single volunteer clerk, the hood of my baggy sweater pulled up over my head.
I don’t want to talk to the volunteer, an older lady tapping on her phone, so I keep my eyes on the carpeted floor. I get nervous around people, especially if I have to talk with my mask on. I’ll sound funny.
I don’t know if she wanted to talk or not. I think she was too busy with her phone. I don’t get it. Why come to a library, or work at a library, if you’re going to go on your phone? I don’t have a phone- Mom says noisy electronics like that aren’t good for us, and I think she’s right.
I just want to be with the books. There are other libraries where I live, newer ones with brighter lights above newer, shiny floors that reflect the light back up. They’ve got rows of computers, and rows of people using them. It's all too noisy for me. I think this is the oldest library where I live. It's also got my favorite books, and the quietest spaces, and that’s what makes it my favorite library.
Rule 2
There’s one spot in the library where I can read and eat, where no one will notice. That’s my rule- not my Mom’s. Like I said, she wouldn’t let me go to the library if she knew I was going to eat there and not at home.
I’m also pretty sure eating’s not allowed at the library, but people break all kinds of rules at the library. Sometimes I can hear people talking too loudly to each other, or sometimes talking too loudly on their phones. So I find a place where I can’t hear them.
And sometimes I see people folding pages of books, or writing on the old wooden desks, or bending covers back too far, and this really makes me mad. But I get nervous around people and don’t say anything. So I find a place where people like that can’t see me.
But before I go to my spot, I need a book. Or what’s the point of going to the library to eat, right?
Today I want to read a book about another place. The other day I heard a couple of people talking- too loudly- about something happening in a place I’d never heard of. And today I want to read about that place. It takes me a while, but I think I’ve found the book I want to read, and-
“Hey, nice sweater.”
Some guy is in the aisle next to me. I don’t say anything- I’ll just sound funny with my mask on.
“What band is that? It looks metal as fuck.”
He’s pointing at my sweater now, and I just shake my head.
I don’t like music- too noisy. He’s pointing at the marks I put on the sweater myself, to help with the noise. Spirals help with noise from electronics; triangles in triangles in triangles help with the noise from bright lights. Stars with as many points as I can make- with chalk or markers or whatever I can get- help with noisy people. I put lots of marks on my sweater.
It’s not about a band though. It’s like, the opposite of that. But I don’t want to explain all that because I’ll sound funny.
“You ever listen to Kask? Check this out.”
He holds some earphones up to where he thought my ears would be, and my mask slips.
Rule 3
Mom says it’s dangerous to go out, mask or not. But I think she knows I need to go out sometimes. I’m not little anymore.
“Don’t get caught,” she says before I go out. “Whatever you do, don’t get caught.”
This is what I’m thinking when my mask slips.
The noise, the earphones- it’s just too much. I can’t concentrate. My mask slips and from beneath the hood of my sweater he sees me.
He sees me for a few seconds, the me that makes people scared, and then his eyes go wide and his mouth opens up and I know he’s going to be loud and noisy. I reach out from my baggy sweater and grab his face, keeping all the noise inside.
I can still see one of his eyes, so round and big that I can see myself reflected back in it, like those shiny new floors of the new libraries reflecting the light back up.
I reach up really high with my other arm, above the top of the bookshelf, up higher still until I can touch the drop ceiling. I keep squeezing his head tight, I keep the noise inside, while with my other arm I gently move the panel of the ceiling aside.
This is my favorite spot to read and eat, and I know no one noticed us. I won’t get caught. I pull us both up into the ceiling, then reach back down and get my book.
I just want to be with the books. It’s nice to go out, to learn new things someplace quiet.
I’ll finish reading and eating in a few hours, well before the library closes for the night. I’ll put my mask back on and walk out past the older lady on her phone.
There’s also phones in my spot, up in the ceiling. There’s earphones and other things no one’s going to use anymore. This is probably the oldest library where I live, with its old lights and old carpets, and ceiling full of old noisy things now quiet.
I won’t get caught, Mom, I promise.