Skurdulka's House (a LGBTQ chosen-family thriller)

Part 19: Waiting

Storm scanned the books on the shelf for the third time. "Wilde... Wilde..." he muttered. Then, he stopped. The Collected Works of Oscar Wilde.

He pulled the hefty book off, propped it up against the shelf and looked through the index. The title he was looking for was only a few lines down in the poems sections; Ballad of Reading Gaol, The.

Storm stood, reading quietly, for long minutes that got lost in the dusty silence. The school seemed impossibly quiet after the last bell rang, like the entire building was exhaling.

"Paper books, huh?"

Storm looked up. Heather leaned against the bookshelf.

"Oh, hi." Storm closed the book. "Sorry, were you waiting?"

"No. Chris is meeting with Mrs. Summers. Chemistry stuff." She rolled her eyes. "So we're all waiting."

"Oh. Well, I have to check this out anyway." Storm strode to the check-out station and pulled out his student ID. "You know what's weird? I could steal this book and never bring it back and no one would know. But if I check I out," the machine beeped, once over his student ID and again over the book, "and I keep it more than two weeks, I have to pay a fine." He scoffed. "How does that make sense? Why should anybody do it the right way?"

Heather shrugged a shoulder. "'Cause if you get caught stealing it, you'll get in trouble, I guess."

Storm scoffed and gestured around the empty room. "Who's gonna catch me?"

She sat down on the worn-out sofa in the center of the library. "Why don't you steal it then?"

Flipping over the book in his hands, the serene, yet oddly intent gaze of Oscar Wilde looked into his soul. "I guess I don't really need it that bad. And, I guess it's always here if I want it."

"To steal or to borrow?"

Storm smiled and sat down on the other, equally worn-out sofa across from her. "Yes."

Heather chuckled, but there was no humor in her face. She looked down at her golden fingernails.

"I thought you'd be rehearsing with Ash and Marie and everybody. Isn't the play coming up?" Storm asked.

"I'm not in drama club."

"Oh. You're not?" Storm thought for a moment, trying to remember why he thought she was. "But you're always at rehearsals and everything."

"I just like to hang out. I'm usually here for student council anyway."

"Why don't you go out for a part? I bet you'd be good at it."

Her eyes swiveled up to him slowly, looking at him from under her brows. Storm couldn't tell if it was her 'be serious' look or her 'stop talking or I will kill you' look.

"Really?" was all she said.

"What?" He was genuinely bewildered. "You're at rehearsals anyway."

Shaking her head, she looked away. "You're an idiot."

Storm threw up a hand. "What? All I said was—"

"I'm gonna get up on stage? In front of the entire school? Who would I play? Juliet? Lady Macbeth?"

"Sure, why not—"

"God, how do you not get it? Don't you have eyes?" She burst out. "Look around this school. Look at plays in general. There aren't any girls that look like me." She fell quiet and her sharpness dulled. She looked down at her nails again. "I would get up there and they would laugh."