Between the Stacks

Chapter 15

Over time I'd grown quite battle ready for mayhem. Most people have images of libraries as quiet, peaceful sanctums - and that was true sometimes. But for a branch as small as Northern Ridge, all it takes is a handful of kids to raise the noise level to something similar to the sound of fighter jets taking off.

I realized in that moment how innocent I was.

I couldn't count the number of children. Some were at their tables, clanging their utensils together, but most were on the makeshift dance floor. They shrieked in joy as they jumped up and down as they tried to sing along with the man who stood on a small, raised platform.

Jack.

"I want everybody to scream!" he said.

The kids obliged.

My poor eardrums. There weren't any empty tables left, so I slid over to the bar on the far side of the restaurant. I took the stool that gave me the best view of the dancefloor.

"Can I get you anything?" the bartender asked over the noise. "I've got to warn you, tonight is family night, as you can tell."

I ordered a Coke. "I'm actually here to see him," I said, pointing at Jack. His chestnut hair was mussed with exertion. He was taller than expected in person. "Does he perform here often?"

"Once a month," the bartender said. He placed my drink in front of me. "Donates half the proceeds to charity."

"Wow." I would need thousands of dollars, diamonds, and a guarantee of immortality before even considering hosting a solo event like this. I still wasn't comfortable interacting with large groups of kids on my own, especially after my infamous storytime incident.

Jack started another song, one that must have been an original. It was hard to hear the lyrics over the sound of all the yelling. I was fairly sure it was about a boy named Eddy who loved spaghetti.

Clearly the kids knew the words. At one point there was a break from the guitar and Jack pointed at the audience.

"Eddy!" Jack yelled.

"Spaghetti!" The kids yelled back.

It was one of those songs that involved audience interaction. Kids always loved those. The song continued with more chances for the kids to yell back. I was confident that whenever the guitar stopped, the call-and-response would begin.

The song was catchy. I couldn't help but admire Jack's hands as he strummed the strings on the guitar. His fingers -

No.

Bad thought.

I was caught up in the song, that was all. I wanted to play along, to have some innocent fun. I tapped my toes against the stool, humming along, when the guitar stopped. Jack looked expectantly at the audience. He took a breath and said, "Eddy-"

"Spaghetti!" I shouted.

The kids burst into laughter. I had been the only one to yell. I was mortified.

The bartender snorted nearby. Even the parents chuckled.

And Jack looked up at me from the microphone.

We made eye contact. It was the longest three seconds of my life.

"Friends, that's not how the song goes!" He strummed the guitar. "Let's teach her what we say when the song ends. Eddy-"

He let the word drag out. That was my mistake. It was the end of the song, and he let the word rest for a few moments before breaking out into an acoustic riff that was wasted on these six-year-olds. The kids boogied. One girl did a somersault. A boy took off his shirt, just because he felt like it.