Growing Up Beside You [John Lennon/Beatles Fanfiction]

28. A library, not a playhouse

That lazy, loudmouthed twat was cackling again. That's all he'd been doing for the past thirty minutes. Laughing.

Celia did her best to ignore it and picked up another book from the stack on the library floor. This one looked like it had gone undisturbed for a very long time. The thin volume was bound in faded red leather, cracked and dry with age. Celia delicately fingered the tatty gold lettering, appreciative of its haggard beauty. Reaching on the shelf for the cloth, she swiped away the ancient dust coating the fore-edge of the book. Tenacious, it caught in Celia's throat, making her cough a little. Seemingly, no one at Quarry Bank High School was interested in reading about naval warships of the seventeenth-century. The faint date stamp on the first page declared it hadn't seen life outside the library since nineteen forty-seven —a whole decade ago. Nevertheless, it was checked out many times before that; the pages within were brittle and what remained of the book's original stitching were barely holding together. Celia glanced over her shoulder before getting a whiff of the book's pages. It smelled warm and dusty, like the inside of a loft. Most old books did smell like that, though, didn't they? A smell of an earlier time leaking through the pages—a special odour of knowledge and emotions that for ages have been calmly resting between the protective covers.

Celia didn't feel like she was in detention at all, regardless of the dozens of books she'd been allocated to dust and put away. How could being surrounded by books possibly be a punishment? Sometimes, there was nothing better than spending the day in a quiet corner, lost in the wisdom of words that offer comfort.

Celia spent most of her childhood running in and out of other worlds like a time bandit, or a spy. In fact, for the first two years at Quarry Bank High School, Celia had spent most of her time companionless within the walls of the library. She'd happily score new books the minute they'd arrive; ordering books she'd heard of—then fervidly waiting for them to arrive as if it were Christmas.

After breathing in the worn leather, Celia glimpsed through a few pages before returning the book to its new position on the shelf, which she'd polished.

There it was again. That horrid cackle. Celia poked her head around one of the shelves. Just as she expected, he wasn't working. No surprise there.

For the past three detentions, John Lennon hadn't so much as lifted a finger. Two days ago, the nine detentioners were forced to remove rotten pieces of chewing gum from underneath desks and chairs, which were used for exam purposes in the school hall. It was enough to make anyone gag, and Celia had done so, several times, but she'd got the job done without a fuss. John, on the other hand, have given up after precisely three minutes. He'd complained that he wasn't going to be forced to do "hard labour" for free. 'If you think I'm gonna spend another minute scrapin' off other people's chuddy, then you've got another fuckin' thing comin'," he'd protested.

Instead, he made it his mission to use his scraper to pelt gun at other detentioners, much to his own amusement. A ball of gum had landed in a third-years mouth, and John almost wet himself as the poor sod spend five-minutes retching and spitting into his bucket, like a cat heaving up a hairball. Thankfully, Celia was on the other side of the hall, so she wasn't a target of John's mischief.

Today, John was hiding. Or rather, he was stationed in a place that kept him hidden. It was underneath a big, wide staircase which led up to the library's additional study space. It was a corner restricted from view, and by the sounds of it, John was having the time of his life under there.  He wasn't completely concealed, though. Celia could see his legs resting on-top of a book trolley, his shabby black shoes crossed over each other. He cackled yet again. It was the sort of cackling imagined to come out of the throat of a gremlin—loud and obnoxious.