Junk and Other Stories

Paperback Reader

(This story is a work of fiction. My job at the library, however, is completely real.)

I don't know if a lot of you know this, but I have a part time job. I volunteer at the local library for two hours every Friday morning , and it's a lot of fun. I used to think volunteering wasn't worthwhile because you didn't get paid for your service. It turns out I was wrong...

I was working my ordinary shift last Friday - ten til twelve, like always. My mum dropped me on the curb outside in our big red bus of a car and drove off. I raced inside, all set to dump my stuff and get to work shelving books in the children's section. It was pretty noisy there due to a crowd of toddlers and parents who had gathered for "rhyme time" with the two head librarians; but I managed to squeeze through the vast sea of screaming kids and chattering parents and place the books on the shelves without too much trouble. Then I wondered what to do after that.

I took my little white trolley and wandered off to the adults' non-fiction to see what needed doing there. Everything was already pretty much put away except for a small stack of books, so I didn't stick around long. By the time I'd finished putting the handful of books away, "rhyme time" had finished up and the building was quiet again.

"Good," I thought. It's very difficult trying to pay attention to sorting the numbers printed on the spines of the books when there's a din of crying babies and The Itsy Bitsy Spider echoing in your ears.

There weren't a lot of people left. I spotted a few older students sitting at tables by the window, noses in a book and their iPod's plugged into their ears. The computer lab was pretty much full. The librarians at the front desk were busy sorting paperwork and talking to customers. There wasn't much left for me, a mere, teenage volunteer, to do.

"Maybe the adults' fiction needs sorting," I wondered, gathering up my little trolley and puttering over to the far end of the library.

I really enjoy shelving in the adults' fiction. The sorting part is fairly simple (books are ordered by last name rather than by long strings of numbers), and there are always lots of sweet old ladies and funny old men wandering around, looking for books. I try my best to be helpful and assist them in finding what they're looking for.

Today, however, hardly anyone was roaming the aisles on the adult fiction section. There were only two people: that weird man who always visits the library but doesn't do any actual browsing; he just sits in an armchair an sleeps for hours. The other person was an older man with shaggy brown hair. He had his back to me, so I didn't pay him too much attention and went straight to my shelving.

"So, let's see," I murmured, taking a quick peek at the books in my trolley, "there's several to go in the C part of the adult section... And here's a couple of F's... Several H's..."

I always mutter to myself when I do any kind of sorting. It helps me concentrate. After loading up my trolley with alphabetically ordered books (and glancing warily at the guy sleeping in an armchair), I sped off down the first aisle. I hummed Starman by David Bowie as I walked. Humming is another thing I do to concentrate.

"First up... books by someone called 'Cole'," I mumbled, squinting at the letters printed on the spine of the book in my hand. "Dammit... It lives on the lower shelves."

If there's one thing I'm terrible at, it's squatting. Unfortunately, I have to do it a lot during my library shifts. All I could do then was sigh, adjust my long skirts so my knickers didn't show, squat down and proceed to shelve the C books. I was nearly done and about to stagger to my feet, when I heard a soft voice from behind me.

"Excuse me? Do you know where the Stephen King books are?"

"Sure," I said, standing up and turning to face the speaker. "They're right over - Oh!"