Dear Library Girl

16

Caley

The Monday after Prom, we sat in English class and I realized that what I had said before was true: Prom changes people. Jess smiled at me when I walked in, hand in hand with Derek, which I had not seen ever before today. Come to think of it, people were sitting in different desks all over the room. It was weird. Tyler still sat in front of me, and we acted like we had never kissed each other before, because friends don't kiss each other. I still thought about it a lot and I sometimes I couldn't help but fantasize about his Malfoy-blonde hair, but I had always liked his hair anyway. I think being friends was going well. Tyler knew my situation now, and we were closer than ever. Prom changes people.

Mr. Hall released the projecter screen to reveal what he had written on the board. He liked to do that, I'd noticed. It added a little bit of dramatic flair. He'd written "FINAL PROJECT" on the board with not one, not two, but three exclamation points.

"As you might have noticed already," he began, "I have 12 pairs of books lined up at the board. There are 24 of you so you will be working in partners. You may choose amongst yourselves." He began to pass papers around the room as he talked.

At "partners," chatter arose around the room as people quickly made arrangments for partners. Tyler didn't have to turn around and inform me that we were partnering up; of course we were. But he still stretched his arms behind his back, folding his fingers together and placing his arms on my desk, almost as if he was claiming me as his partner so others knew not to ask either of us. I laughed and pried his hands apart so his arms swung back to his sides.

Mr. Hall waited for the noise to settle down. "All right, line up with your partners at the back of the classroom. Let's pick us some books."

Desks scraped floor as people moved around. Tyler and I pretty much sat in the back already, and stood basically where we were.

"I will be choosing random pairs to come choose their books for their project," he said and grabbed his clipboard from his podium. He closed his eyes and twirled his finger in the air a few times before setting it on the roll call sheet and opening his eyes to see which name he'd pointed at. "Tyler Thompson."

We walked up together to see what we could choose from. I'd read quite a few of them already, and knowing from how we'd met at the library so long ago, so had Tyler. Gatsby was up there, as well as Tom Sawyer, A Seperate Peace and the Outsiders. I looked at Tyler. He was eyeing The Outsiders as well.

Mr. Hall broke the silence. "Quickly, quickly."

Tyler picked up the book and looked at me with raised eyebrows. I picked up the other copy and nodded and we took our seats. Mr. Hall read off another name. "Cassie Wilson."

Tyler turned in his seat. "We're probably not supposed to do a project on a book we've both already read, huh?" he whispered.

"Well, I would think so...but this is one of my favorites," I whispered back.

He grinned and turned all the way around, setting his elbows on my desk. "Me too. It's the first book you recommended to me before we actually talked to each other. Remember?"

"Clearly," I smiled back. How could I forget?

///

We had three weeks left of our junior year at Pine High. Three weeks to finish our book project and study for finals week. If it was even possible, Tyler and I spent more time in the library than we did before. We took turns writing and editing paragraphs for our Outsiders essay, went through study guides, and made flashcards. Whenever the time came that one of us wanted to throw our textbooks and or rip said flashcards to shreds out of frustration, we took walks around the few blocks surrounding the library. Not once did we hold hands or kiss. We studied. We stressed. We survived together.

///

It was our last day in Mr. Hall's English class. At Mr. Hall's instruction, a man that reminded us every day to make the janitors' jobs easier, we had stacked and lined up the desks and chairs in the back of the room and sat in a circle on the grey carpet. Our teacher sat in the circle as well, in his red velvet chair he often referred to as "the throne." In one hand, he held a stack of manila envelopes. In the other, several children's books.

"These are your final projects and report cards," he said, holding up the envelopes and handing them down to the first student on his left. "I was generally very pleased with them. Pass them down quietly. We're going to spend our last class together enjoying story time."

I got the stack and singled out the envelope that said "Tyler Thompson & Alley Cat Caley Sloane" in blue ink. Tyler and I turned slightly towards each other and bowed our heads over the envelope in my hands. We'd put so much work into our essay. I opened it and slid out the stapled papers to confirm that we'd earned a big fat red "100%, Awesome work, smiley face." We initiated the world's biggest smiles and quietest high five. Tyler slid his fingers into mine and our hands remained clasped through all eight children's books Mr. Hall read. I tried not to think too much of it.

To celebrate our perfect grade and the first hour of our three month summer holiday, Tyler and I drove to the nearest burger joint for chocolate ice cream cones. We didn't hold hands.