Behind These Bars

Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine

After reading through the assigned portion of F. Scott Fitzgerald's wonderful masterpiece, I closed the book and got up to stretch. Setting my stuff on the table, I decided to wander around. Any time I could waste as not to go home to my mom worked for me. Deciding any aisle would do, I began to go up and down the rows and rows of books.
Touching each of every spine of the books I passed brought on this immediate feeling of euphoria. Smelling the specific smell of old and worn pages reminded me more of home than my own house and if I am being completely honest, this place was home. Surrounded by thousands, if not millions, of different worlds with different plots and ever changing characters just felt right to me. It just seemed- well it seemed safe.
Walking to my favorite section of books, I covered my eyes as my fingers roved on each and every spine. Counting down from ten, I stopped and opened my eyes once I reached zero. Pulling out the book I had stopped on, I fondly read the title. Wuthering Heights was another one of my favorites. To me though, every book in the 'classics' section was simply amazing. In these books the past seems to just jump off the pages and play before you like a movie; lives of poverty and grandeur, heartbreak and love, all vividly skating over your imagination.
This section had always been my favorite mainly because the places I imagined from these novels were real places. Sure the books were set in the past, but it was fun to imagine living in these far off and peculiar places and the authors themselves were pieces of art. They were the conductors behind these amazing orchestras of characters and plots. Authors like the Bronte sisters, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Charles Dickens, and my personal favorite, F. Scott Fitzgerald.
When I learned that we were reading The Great Gatsby in English, I was ecstatic. I didn't show it on the outside of course but I was truly excited. Much to some people's chagrin, I thought The Great Gatsby was a wonderfully crafted book, ending and all; I had always felt a connection with Gatsby himself. While he might have been a bachelor who partied all day and night and I'm just a quiet fifteen-year-old girl, we were very similar in that we were both wealthy. Gatsby of course had earned his while my mother had practically stolen her fortune and Gatsby and I both have blots on our posts. While I didn't try to cover up a murder, I had broken the law. Lastly, we both wanted something money couldn't buy; love. Gatsby wanted Daisy's love while I, well I just wanted anyone's love.
Never in my life had I ever heard someone say those three simple words that everyone longed to hear. My dad didn't stick around long enough to even welcome me into the world let alone love me once I was here. Mother has always been too focused on her husbands and makeshift boyfriends that she never had the time to do motherly things with me. Add that to the fact that I never had very many friends or a single boyfriend and the closest thing to love I'm left with is Ms. Hughes, the librarian, letting me take books even though I don't have a library card. Fifteen years on earth and never once had I heard those three simple words. "I love you" was simply no in my memory or vocabulary.
Moving about the shelves I performed my selection process two more times. My fingers ended up landing on Oliver Twist by Charles Dickens and the ever so classic Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen. After collecting my books, I started to walk in the direction of the checkout desk when I saw a woman glancing at me weirdly. I just smiled and kept walking towards my destination. By now the odd glances I received in here didn't faze me. People often thought that my book selection method was a bit odd. Ever since I was little I had never looked at the books I was going to choose. To me, having this impartial view on a book was critical. Covers were usually the reason a person was first attracted to a novel. I liked to not be able to see the covers of the books I had the option of reading. Just because a book was worn and old and the cover was dull didn't mean that the book wasn't colorful and lively on the inside. Ever since my stay at juvie I had especially considered this theory to be true. People who knew about my now criminally tarnished record immediately labeled me as a useless troublemaker. They never looked deep enough under the surface to see that I was just a confused kid trying to fix my mistake.
Reaching the checkout counter, I politely smiled at Ms. Hughes. "Which books are you getting today Evangeline?" I handed them over to look at. "Oh just these three," I simply stated. She grinned at me as she held up Wuthering Heights. "Going for a fifth shot at it huh?" I just smiled and nodded at her. "Heathcliff's story just never gets old to me. I could read it a hundred times and still find some new aspect of his feeling for Catherine." She just laughed and nodded. She handed the books back to me and said, "So I'll see you tomorrow afternoon?" I replied, "You sure will. Bye Ms. Hughes." "Bye Evangeline."
The walk home from the library was quick. By the time I had left my haven of literature, the sun had already set and it was getting increasingly dark outside. Reaching my front door, I grabbed the key and unlocked it. I put the key back and slowly went inside. My bag uncaringly fell on the floor and the sound echoed off the entryway walls. Walking further into the house I noticed all the lights were out. I turned them on one by one and headed to the kitchen. Once there, I found a stick note posted on the otherwise empty fridge doors. It simply said "Out--- Mom." Sighing, I crumpled up the note and tossed it into the bin. Deciding that I didn't feel like putting the effort into making an actual meal, I sloppily put together a turkey and mayonnaise sandwich. Grabbing a soda, I walked over to the huge dining table where I proceeded to eat alone. At a ten-person table I was the only one using it. It was sad really.
Suddenly a beep came from my pocket. I took out my phone and unlocked it. The screen read one new message from Jason: "Hey, I got your number from Mr. Grueman. Just wanted to make sure you got home okay." I read the message three times before typing a reply, "Yeah, thanks for checking." My phone beeped again as Jason replied: "Okay, good. I'll see you tomorrow Evangeline." With that, my heart sped up a little.