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

Chapter 19

If you asked Dan as he was walking through the school gates alongside Phil whether he enjoyed Rawtenstall any more or less than Wokingham he would have been too nervous to give a straight reply.

"This isn't going to work, Phil," Dan said at his friend, who now donned sunglasses and had gaffer taped over the name scribbled on his bag.

"You mean Alex , Dan." He sighed.

"This isn't going to work, ALEX."

"Don't be silly, Daniel, of course it will," he replied. Phil followed Dan into the building and through the halls to the library, where Dan went each morning. Upon walking through the doors he froze, remembering the last time he'd come into this room. The police, the crying teachers and distressed students. His dead, glassy eyes.

"Phil?" Dan asked, concerned.

"I-I'm fine, just, like, phased out for a second." There was a reason Phil'd never come back to BRGS, it scared him.

"We don't have to stay in here if you don't want, Phil," Dan whispered.

"No, it's okay, it's just been a while," Phil replied, chuckling slightly. He padded further into the room, the surges of emotion he felt almost exactly four years ago rushing through him again, bitter tasting in his mouth. Not much had changed, a few of the seats and tables were in slightly different positions, the book trolley given a new paint job, some of the particularly old posters on the walls replaced by newer ones.

"Hey, Dan," Mrs Cullen, the librarian chirped.

"Good morning, Miss," Dan waved back.

"Who's your friend? Haven't seen him before," Mrs Cullen asked, sipping from her coffee mug.

"Oh, this is, um, Alex! He's, erm, new," Dan stuttered. Phil waved, not saying a word.

"Shades, young man," the woman instructed, pausing for Phil to remove his glasses, as it was against uniform code to wear them inside. Phil's heart jumped to his throat as he shakily removed them, trying his best to not look nervous on the outside. Mrs Cullen's eyes widened and she looked as if she were about to drop her mug, if it weren't for her realisation of her shock.

"Is there something wrong, Miss?" Dan asked carefully.

"Oh, I'm just getting old, as you know, just thought your friend looked a little like somebody I used to know, that's all," she replied, putting her mug down carefully on the desk. "Small world, isn't it?"

"Very, Miss. Have a nice day," Dan said, walking away from the issuing desk to his usual seat, Phil following close behind.

"Never knew I was so memorable," he muttered.

"You're essentially Moaning Myrtle, mate. That's why no one comes in here, my friend told me you scared the shit out of some girl a couple years ago," Dan explained. Phil looked confused, his mouth slightly ajar, brow creased and his head tilted.

"I... I didn't do that, I've avoided this place like the plague..." he said confusedly.

"Well, I've seen you sit at the table over there every day ever since I got here," Dan replied, just as confused, loosely throwing his index finger towards the corner he'd watched Phil sit in each day. Phil's eyes followed the finger, his head turning, confusedly. His mouth dropped and he jumped back a little. Dan looked across and saw him, Phil, sat at the table in the corner of the room, Stephen King book in hand, short brown hair atop his head, looking around nervously like he did every day.

"What the fuck?" Dan whispered. A thump to his left startled him and he quickly turned and watched the cleaner pull the mop and bucket out from the boy's toilet behind him. Phil in the corner stood, like he did each Monday, and shuffled into the loo to never return. Dan turned to look at Phil, his eyes were puffed and wide with shock.

"Well, that answers one question, but raised about a fucktillion more," he whispered.