The October Malice ༄ (gxg)

four, trenchcoat

A 10-page research paper served as the midterm for her General Psychology class.

It was to be written in APA style, a style Opal had never learned at her half-assed high school. She had to learn how to write a cover page and an abstract page, and the slightly modified formatting. She also had to retrieve a book about her topic from the county library and begin researching the paper that was due at the end of the week.

Sam had left at some point during the night, leaving behind a gentle kiss on Opal's forehead that had been returned with a half-awake and incoherent mumble. The brunette usually always sneaked out sometime in the night after their sneaky rendezvouses so that she would be in bed by the time her mom woke up for her early morning shift.

Opal's parents had tried to take the lock off her bedroom door many times before, but the obstinate girl had spent dozens of dollars buying brand new locks to replace. Fortunately, they had given up, which led to Sam sneaking in nearly every other night.

She started to leave for college that crisp morning until she picked up her bike from the ground on which she had thrown it the previous evening and began to walk it down the driveway, being met with a loud screeching noise accompanied by reluctance in the wheels.

Huffing, she really didn't even have to examine the bike to know what was wrong with it. When she had thrown the bike down, it must have knocked the chain out of place, meaning it was virtually impossible to ride until her father could place the chain back in its place; but he had already left for work.

She had strategized to leave early, anyways, so she could pick up a book at the library before class. She figured she'd have enough time; she would just have to be quick.

Tightening the black straps of her backpack, she let out a huff which was met with a cloud of fog around her mouth as she began the journey into town.

She hated walking on Highway 13. There was something still and eerie about it, something watchful, as if the tree trunks of the dense, dark green forest were lined with beady chestnut eyes. The morning fog made it even worse, blurring the distinction between different trees and making the forest look like one dark blur. She quickened her pace.

She arrived to the library quicker than she had expected. Walking in through the smudgy glass doors, she was met with a heat that was nearly sweltering. It melted the goosebumps off her cold skin within seconds, although the hot air filled with the smell of old books and dust invaded her nostrils and made her want to turn right back around and walk out.

But she had already been caught by Jean Browning, the frail librarian who had read children's books to Opal and her classmates for her entire time at elementary school. It had been a weekly thing—Mrs. Browning would go to the school and read a book to the kids every Friday. It had made Fridays Opal's favorite day.

The elder lady had also been an extremely close friend of her father's, for she had been the librarian even when Jeremy was a child. She was like a mother figure to him, even taking care of him as a teenager when his parents had been killed in a car crash out of town (one of the reasons he avoided big cities). Mrs. Browning had been to Jeremy and Amanda's wedding, their baby shower, and every one of Opal's eighteen birthdays. She was practically a family member.

Her husband had died years before Opal was born, and she never had any children. That was why she took in Opal's father as her own and spent all her free time reading to the kids at the schools. Her heart was so obviously made of gold.

"Opal!" Mrs. Browning exclaimed from her front desk to the left of the entrance as soon as the blonde had appeared through the front doors. Opal was struck with a pang reverberating in her chest at how much Mrs. Browning had aged even in the few months it had been since Opal visited the library.