There's a Reason I Go to the Library & It's Not Cause I Like Reading

Chapter 3

If you asked Dan at the end of 2008 whether he enjoyed Rawtenstall any more or less than Wokingham he would have told you to piss off. He was sick of having friends he knew would bugger off as soon as he asked anything of them. He was sick of the rift forming between him and his family and he was sick of the smell of coffee that was caked into the carpet in his room.

Dan may not have done much in the 9 months he'd spent in the north but the one thing he did do was notice how eerily quiet his room was. It was the same silence as everywhere else, except it made Dan feel uneasy. It still didn't feel like his own room after so many hours spent in it, away from everything else.

Of course, Dan just thought it was his stress from school getting to his head. He slept fine, there wasn't a corpse in the wardrobe or anything (he'd checked twice), but he couldn't ignore the odd red speck stained in the carpet beside the window. It made him wonder about the person who lived here before him. What did they spend their nights thinking about? What memories do they have in this room?

Before too long, Dan had created a person in his head. His name was Cameron, he had ginger hair he kept long and wanted to be a tattoo artist. A little out-there, he knew. But Dan was fast running out of trivial matters to occupy his mind so he could avoid thinking of the responsibilities he'd have in only 7 months when he graduated.

Speaking of school, Dan hated it.

Everyone gave him strange eyes when he opted to spend his lunchtimes and free periods in the school library, but he had no clue as to why. It was a nice room with students' art from all through the years hung up on the walls, few people, and the warm musk of old books Dan liked a little. Of course, when he asked why everyone avoided the library they just laughed and patted him on the back. "Someone will tell you eventually or you'll just find out by yourself, mate" they'd say, and Dan's brow would crease.

Soon the library became his main location away from home, as all the bellends who'd tell him to not go in there stayed out and he'd become quite acquainted with the librarian, Mrs Cullen. He would delve into the endless expanse of shelves and pick out a book, select a chair or couch equidistant from everybody else and read about the Blitz or some shit for a few hours before collecting his things and leaving.

There were only 3 other students he ever saw in the library. A blonde girl with her skirt pulled a little too high who'd run in and snatch 3 bulky books, issue them, and run back out again. Language Arts student Dan always thought. An indian girl with a strong northern accent who'd always end up in the loo on her phone shouting into the microphone. A brown haired girl and her two random, ever changing accomplices who'd whisper to each other in the nonfiction section. But it was the last student who fascinated Dan the most. A boy who sat in the corner of the library at a table who read Stephen King every day and never uttered a word. His short brown hair stood up at the front, his widow's peak adorning a pale face with two wide blue eyes staring intently at the pages. He never looked up. Not even when the bell rang through the empty room and everybody else left.

The boy confused Dan, but also was also a constant in Dan's life he enjoyed, even if the boy never knew. He often wondered what that boy liked other than Stephen King, and what his life was like, where he lived, what music he listened to, but Dan was, in short, a fucking pussy, so he never walked over to the boy and asked him.