Between the Stacks

Chapter 38

The Internet loved Wesley. The comments on the previous video of his speech had mainly focused on the content of his presentation. The CBC comments, surprisingly, attracted a different crowd: horny women with nothing better to do.

What a snack, someone named Meredith wrote. Then someone responded, No, he's dinner.

I fought the urge to respond, MY SNACK.

Katherine Jaworski, the CEO of the Cherryhill library system, sent out an all-staff email congratulating him for highlighting the many woes of the libraries across the country. This seemed a little ironic to me. Katherine was the one who could make our lives easier – but then again, she was as constrained by the budget as we were. I really couldn't blame her. The fault was with the city council, who never allocated enough funds to us. (They had just voted to spend five hundred thousand dollars on a statue of a giant cherry on the highway leading into town; I wanted to know if a giant cherry would ever help someone learn to read.)

Instead, I was sure every teenager in town would vandalize it. There was an inherent popping-the-cherry joke in there somewhere.

Now, two days later, Wesley was more popular than ever. He'd texted me screenshots from his phone from various people in his life who were reaching out to him: his old French teacher, a friend from the one year he played Ultimate Frisbee, even an old landlord who'd never fixed a leaky kitchen faucet.

I was only mildly jealous. Yes, just mildly. I could only throw a few snakes.

None of that really mattered: I felt something in my chest that felt awfully warm, awfully cozy. I didn't know that jealousy and this weird fuzzy sensation could coexist - but they did.

---

Kermit, my stuffed frog, sat on my desk when I arrived at work. He held a Post-It note with Wesley's writing that said, You look hawt.

"Oh, God." I frantically looked around, praying no one else had seen a slightly-too-spicy-for-work note. With an apology I shoved Kermit in my drawer, then placed the note surreptitiously in my notebook, where I could glance at it without drawing any attention. It would seem as if I were studiously reading my meeting minutes, not reading high school notes.

Hawt. What a word. I snorted.

Our keycards worked across library branches. Wesley must have snuck in earlier today. And as to how he got Kermit in the first place – well, that wasn't secret at all.

The first night after the interview, I stayed over at his place. The outfit we'd so carefully curated had ended up on the floor. Last night we'd stayed at my place, and he'd clearly kidnapped Kermit. This time I didn't mind so much.

"Your note was super gross," Matteo said, appearing out of nowhere and perching on my desk. "Was 'hawt' ironic? Please tell me it's ironic."

I jumped and snapped my notebook shut. "Please burn the memory out of your mind."

"It's too late. I took a picture. Posted it online. The whole world knows you're seeing someone who uses the word 'hawt.' The Toronto Star is doing a big article on it."

Then he paused, looking at me with those big puppy eyes, clearly begging me for details. It wouldn't take him long to guess that it was Wesley - I remembered a few suggestive looks thrown my way - so I figured I would have to come clean anyways.

"I'll tell you tonight," I said. We'd rescheduled our hangout because of Wesley's interview. Then I winced, hating adulthood and the very concept of having to schedule a casual get-together. "You're buying the drinks."

"I'll be there too."

Now it was both me and Matteo who jumped; Lakshmi had appeared behind us. I hadn't seen much of her since she'd stormed out of her office after her meeting with Matteo, after he'd announced he was leaving.