Check Out the Library Weenies Page 8

  After several rounds of ask her and no, you ask her, one boy stands and walks over to the Girl in Blue. Jayden. I figured he’d be the one. For some reason, boys who are irrational enough to be afraid of girls aren’t rational enough to be afraid of ghosts.

  Jayden stops a few feet from the Girl in Blue, and speaks. His voice is too quiet to reach my ears. But it must have reached hers. She nods. They step toward each other. They dance for a magical and timeless span of time. The song ends. As Jayden drops his hands from her back and shoulder, she leans forward and gives him a kiss on the cheek. That’s absolutely forbidden at dances, but a quick check reveals the teachers are still occupied with the spill.

  The kiss breaks the spell that had gripped the onlookers. The boys whoop and cheer. Jayden returns to his peers, a hero who wasn’t afraid to approach a ghost. The Girl in Blue glides to the locker room and slips behind the door.

  A moment later, Deborah returns from the hallway. She has no paper towels, of course. That wasn’t her mission. Her task was to dash to the other door to the locker room at the end of the hall, get the specially designed dress we’d stashed in her locker, and become a ghost. I glance toward the punch bowl, where the teachers are just finishing the cleanup. Molly reaches me at the same time as Deborah.

  “How was it?” I ask.

  “Nice.” Deborah says. “I liked it. Thanks.”

  “It was my pleasure,” I say.

  “And thank you, Molly,” Deborah says.

  “Any time.” Molly raises a paper cup of punch and says, “Here’s to our genius friend, and her cloaking cloth.”

  I shrug off their praise. “It was no big deal. I just adapted some current technology.”

  I’d explained all of it to them right after I got the idea to take advantage of the urban legend about the Girl in Blue and help Deborah get what she wanted—a dance with Jayden. And I got to try out my invention. The fabric uses fiber optics to bend light, so the wearer appears to be transparent. It’s far from perfect, which is actually perfect for anyone who wants to look like a ghost. I’m glad Deborah was brave enough to make an appearance as the Girl in Blue, and that Molly was willing to help distract the teachers. I wish Jayden knew who he’d danced with. But this was a good first step.

  “Next dance, you’re on your own,” I say to Deborah.

  “No problem,” she says. “If I can find the courage to become a ghost, I can do anything.”

  “That’s for sure,” I say. And if I can create the illusion of a ghost, I can do anything, too. But I already knew that.

  CHECK OUT THE LIBRARY WEENIES

  “Check out the library weenies,” Brutus Thumpbuster snarled as he rumbled down the hallway past the open door of the Chelsea Middle School Media Center. I didn’t look up from my book. I knew his face, that snarl, and those mean-spirited, beady eyes all too well. I gripped the book cover tighter, eliciting a crackle of protest from the protective Mylar wrapper, and reminded myself that I was safe from harm in this media-walled sanctuary.

  We all were—me, Diego, Rivka, Faber, Raj, Patrizia, and Meiying. There were others who came and went, but the seven of us pretty much always hung out in the Sofa Circle or sprawled on the scattered bean-bag chairs before school started. The Book Rats. That’s what we called ourselves. It’s okay to call yourself a rat. It’s not okay for someone else to call you that. Or to call you a weenie.

  After Brutus had moved along to his next target, I glanced at Ms. Denwilter. She would have said something to Brutus, if she’d heard him, but she was all the way back in the far corner of the room. She was busy pulling some old books from the shelves. I really liked her. She let us come here and read before the first bell. And every time I thought I’d read all the good books ever written, she’d suggest another author for me to explore. She was like a book magician. And she really cared about us. She called us her Diversity Crew. Not because we came from a lot of different cultures, but because we read all sorts of different things. I loved science fiction. Raj read The Lord of the Rings trilogy over and over. Rivka was big on technology and math. You get the idea.

  When the first bell rang, I headed for home base, moving safely in a sea of students. I’m small for my age. Small for any age, I guess. Though I hope that the growth spurt Dad keeps promising I’ll get shows up before I make my way through high school, college, the work force, and retirement. Until that spurt, I’d have to continue to spend a lot of my time trying to fly beneath the radar of bullies like Brutus.

  It’s funny the way people get names that fit them, almost like life is a book written by an author who wants to give you a hint about what’s going to happen. Brutus seemed perfectly named. As for me, I got saddled with Timothy Meagher. Yeah, it’s supposed to be pronounced Mayer, according to my parents, but you know it will inevitably become Meager in even semi-mean hands. Or mouths. And I’ve been called Tiny Tim more than once. Or Timidthy, which I at least have to admit is a bit clever. I guess it could be worse.

  And that’s exactly what things became when county inspectors discovered the library was infested with a dangerous form of mold—worse. They ordered the room to be sealed off. Nobody could go in, and no books could go out, until experts dealt with the problem.

  I learned the news at the end of the day, when I swung by the library to stock up on books for the weekend. There was yellow tape across the double doors, like the kind they use at crime scenes, and a big CLOSED sign on the wall for those who weren’t literate in the language of tape. Ms. Denwilter was standing in the hallway, staring at the door, her head slumped, along with her shoulders.

  “Closed?” I asked. It was not my most brilliant conversational moment, but I was too surprised to come up with anything more clever or supportive.

  “Closed,” she said. “Mold.”

  “Must have been those old Hardy Boy books,” I said.

  She didn’t even smile at the joke. Not that it was all that funny. Mr. Denwilter had taken over as our school’s media specialist in the middle of last year, when our old librarian, Mr. Yancey, won two million dollars in the state lottery and quit the next day. There were a ton of books he should have gotten rid of, including some series fiction that was getting dangerously close to the century mark, and several shelves full of reference books that seemed, based on their warped appearance, to have encountered a minor flood. But he hadn’t been enthusiastic about making any changes. Ms. Denwilter had totally the opposite attitude, and she was making progress. But it was a big job.

  On the way home, I wondered what I would do when I got to school on Monday morning, since my sanctuary was currently lethal. And I tried to figure out where I would get books since our town didn’t have a public library.

  “How was school?” Mom asked when I came in.

  “Okay. Except the library is swarming with deadly mold.”

  “That’s nice.” She went back to the blog post she was writing. I went through my old books, looking for something good.

  By Monday, I still hadn’t figured out what to do. I caught up with Diego a block from the school. “We can’t go to the library,” I said.

  He stared at me for a moment before responding. “You have a gift for stating the obvious.”

  Before I could reply, Rivka came running up to us. “Guys! You’ll never guess what I found!” She spun around and headed back toward the school. “Come on! Everyone else is already there.”

  We followed her to the side of the school and around to the back, where she pointed to a small mountain of cardboard boxes that were currently being investigated by our fellow rats.

  “Books!” I shouted when I saw what was stacked up and tumbling out of the boxes.

  “Old, damaged books,” Diego said. He’d gotten there ahead of me, and was already pawing through the contents. “I guess Ms. Denwilter finally got them out of the library.”

  “Just in time for us,” I said, squatting next to Diego and checking the titles on the spines. “Hey, some of these look interesting.”r />
  As I was thumbing through an ancient book, I heard the last thing I’d ever want to hear.

  “Check out the library weenies.”

  I turned and saw Brutus walking toward us. “Or are you garbage weenies?” he said. “Do you know what’s going to happen to you?”

  “This is trash,” Diego said, ignoring the threat. “Not garbage. There’s a difference. It’s a common mistake, like with soil and dirt. You’d know that if you ever bothered to pick up a book.”

  Correcting a bully’s grammar is also a mistake. Brutus let out a howl, clenched his fists, and charged at us.

  We all ran for the nearest entrance. Outside, we’d be antelopes fleeing a lion. Inside, we had a chance to get lost in the crowd. I’m small, but I’m fast. Not as fast as Diego or Meiying, but I wasn’t far behind them. Even Raj, in last place, had a respectable lead over Brutus. We hit the door hard, pushing it open, and scampered down the hallway as fast as we could.

  “We’re doomed,” I said, once we’d blended in with our classmates. “We’re safe for now, but he’s going to be waiting for us after school.”

  “We need to figure out a strategy,” Diego said.

  “It’s Monday,” Meiying said. “We can meet during free period.”

  That was a great idea. We had a free period Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, thanks to a schedule nobody really understood. We usually met in the library.

  “Where should we go?” Raj asked. “We can’t hang out in the fortress of moldiness.”

  Faber pointed toward the end of the hallway. “How about the art room.”

  “Perfect,” I said. The school had cancelled all the art and music classes because of budget problems. There was never anybody in the art room. After spending the morning peering over my shoulder to make sure Brutus wasn’t about to pounce on me, I slipped along the corridors and gathered with the other Book Rats in the sad remains of the art room.

  My friends twitched and shivered in various ways, like rats who were aware that doom was approaching. We all looked at each other with hopeful eyes, as if one of us could save the day. I finally broke the silence. “Brutus is right. We are library weenies.”

  “What’s wrong with that?” Diego said. “The best way to fight against bad words is to embrace the insult, and take it for your own. I’m proud to be a reader. I’m proud to be a Book Rat. And I’m super proud to be a library weenie!” He thumped his chest.

  “Me, too,” I said. “But that doesn’t mean I have to be a wimp. I want to stand up for myself.”

  Raj stood up straighter. “So do I.” Then he slumped a bit. “But Brutus would crush me.”

  “So let’s not try to fight brute strength with brute strength,” Diego said.

  Patrizia smirked. “You mean brute weakness, in our case.”

  “Either way,” I said, “what’s our strength?”

  “Book strength!” Rivka shouted, raising a fist in the air.

  “Right. We’re readers,” Diego said. “We think, and we know things.”

  “Knowledge is power!” Raj shouted.

  “Yeah! There are tons of books where the little guy wins,” I said. Naturally, I was a big fan of the little guy. “So what do we know about fighting evil?”

  “We need a champion,” Diego said.

  “Batman!” Faber said.

  “Or a dragon,” Meiying said.

  “A real champion,” I said. “Let’s embrace being library weenies. Every answer is in the library. Right?”

  “Sure,” Raj said. Then he shook his head. “But the library is closed, and we’re not in it.”

  “We’ve read all the books,” I said. “We’re the Diversity Crew. Between us, I’ll bet we’ve read every book in the library. This is like the world’s biggest version of Battle of the Books. We’re getting tested on everything we’ve ever read.”

  “I’m up for that!” Faber said.

  I was starting to get excited. Maybe we really could save ourselves. “So, who are the heroes we know about,” I asked.

  “David slew Goliath with a sling,” Patrizia said.

  “Killing is frowned upon in schools,” I said. “As are weapons. We don’t need a weapon. We need a champion.”

  “Legolas!” Raj shouted, naming an elf from the Lord of the Rings books.

  “We’d have better luck finding Gollum,” Diego said.

  I shuddered at the thought of that creepy creature, who was also from Lord of the Rings.

  “Gollum!” Rivka clapped her hands. “That’s it. You just gave me the perfect idea.”

  We all voiced variations of “Huh?” and stared at her.

  She slapped a big block of clay that sat on the floor next to her. “We’ll make a golem! This is the best idea ever.”

  This did not clarify things. I waited for an explanation.

  “The golem is a clay monster that protected the people in the Jewish ghetto,” she said. “There are dozens of versions of the story. In one, the golem is brought to life with an amulet containing the secret name of God.”

  “And you would happen to know this name?” I asked.

  “No. But in the other version, he’s animated with the word emet. That means truth.”

  She tore off the wrapper and scratched some Hebrew letters on the slab of clay. I could swear it seemed to quiver. Before I could really focus on it, she smeared the letters away. “Come on. If we all pitch in, we can make a clay figure before the period ends.”

  “But it’s just a legend,” Diego said.

  “No. My grandfather told me that his great-grandfather had seen the golem,” Rivka said. “It’s real. I believe in his existence. Where I come from, we know there is truth behind our stories and traditions. I’m going to get started. It’s up to all of you to decide if you want to help.”

  Well, I liked playing with clay. And even if this was not going to save us, it would at least give us something to do. Which was better than standing around wondering which bones of ours Brutus would break.

  “How big does he have to be?” I asked.

  “We want a giant!” Raj said.

  “There isn’t enough clay,” Patrizia said. “And there isn’t enough time.”

  “As big as Brutus,” I said. “That should be enough. This golem, he’s clay. He can’t be hurt, right? He’ll be magically strong. So he doesn’t have to be a giant.”

  “He?” Rivka asked. “Why not she?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Patrizia said. “Let’s go with it.”

  So we made it—a creature of clay—using all the clay we could find, which was a lot, since the old art teacher was passionate about pottery. Our defender was far from perfect, and very far from pretty, but anyone with a bit of imagination would see it as having the form of a person. It was taller than I was. That’s no surprise. It was actually slightly taller than all of us.

  “We did it!” Rivka shouted.

  “Library Weenies unite!” Raj yelled.

  We echoed his cry.

  “Now what?” I asked as I stepped back to admire our work.

  Once again, we were interrupted by an unwanted screech.

  “There you are!”

  It was Brutus. I guess he’d heard our cheering. He rushed into the art room, kicking a table out of his way as he stormed toward us.

  “This better work,” I said as Rivka reached up and inscribed emet on the golem’s forehead.

  It worked.

  Big time.

  The clay hardened before our eyes, making a sound like truck tires on loose gravel. The golem rose, expanding so his head touched the ceiling.

  “Defend us!” Rivka yelled, pointing at Brutus.

  The golem grabbed her arm and threw her across the room. She slammed into the wall and dropped to the floor.

  Before I could move, the golem grabbed me by the shirt in one giant clay fist and Raj by the other. It lifted us up and started shaking us like we were cans of soda it wanted to squirt in the faces of unsuspecting victims. Its own fac
e lacked all emotion. I saw nothing but a clay mask with dead eyes and an unmoving mouth. I tried to pry its hand open so I could slip free, but beneath a thin layer of soft clay that squished against my fingers, I felt solid rock.

  “What’s happening?” Raj shouted.

  Unfortunately, I knew the answer. “The monster is turning on his creators,” I said. Our voices vibrated all over the place as the golem shook us.

  “That’s a classic mistake,” Patrizia said as she yanked without success at the arm that held me. “We should have known. Didn’t you ever read Frankenstein?”

  “I sort of skimmed it,” Julian said.

  “Me, too,” Diego admitted.

  Across the room, Rivka sat up, but stayed where she was. She looked pretty stunned. I had more immediate things to worry about. The golem spread his arms wide, like he was planning to slam Raj and me together. It would definitely hurt to become part of a pair of human cymbals.

  Past the golem, I saw Brutus shake himself out of his startled state. But he didn’t run away from the monster. He ran toward us. Great. Now we were under attack by two monsters.

  “It’s no use,” I shouted at my friends. “Save yourselves.”

  Brutus leaped up and swiped at the golem’s forehead. I had no idea why he was attacking it, but I knew the blow wouldn’t have any effect.

  The golem froze. He was no longer shaking me. I was still shaking, but that was my own nerves doing the work.

  “What…?” I asked.

  “How…?” Raj asked.

  “Huh…?” Rivka said as she rose slowly from the floor.

  “Don’t you library weenies know anything?” Brutus asked. He sounded the way my folks did when I’d done something brainless.

  “Apparently not.” I pried at the golem’s fingers, but they were still locked solidly in place.

  “You give the golem life by writing emet,” Brutus said. “You stop it by erasing the first letter.” He pointed at the forehead, where emet had become met.