The Always More (Doctor Who Fanfiction)

Chapter Two

Chapter Two
Irene

"Are you alright, Ren?" My sort-of friend Taylor puts her hand on my shoulder. "Normally, you've already finished your lunch by now." Although she never puts in the effort to be around me, it never ceases to amaze me how much she notices about me.

She sits down in the chair beside me. "I'd say you're stressed."

I shrug, and push my lunch tray away from me, and shrug. "Just not hungry today."

"Oh, come on. You can tell me. Are you worried about the Algebra test? Mr. Tyman likes you. You have nothing to worry about."

I almost said, "it isn't that." I stop myself. She had given me an out. "Yeah, you're probably right," I sigh, trying to sound relieved. "Guess I just needed a vote of confidence."

She moved here last year, and was instantly thrusted into the popular crowds. She sits at a table with the cheerleader girls who think they're so cool during lunchtime, and I generally sit alone.

"I'm always here," she smiles, patting my hand in an odd motherly way. At the call of her name, she looks over to see the rest of her make-up caked piranha pack standing up. "Oh, we're moving." She stands up. "See you later, Ren." She goes to flirt with a couple boys, and I'm alone.

I hate when people give me nicknames like that, but I'm usually too nice to say anything. I stand up, and chuck my entire untouched lunch into the garbage bin.

I still have fifteen minutes before I have to face that dreadful math test, so I start down the hallways to my favorite place in the school; the library.

I feel a lot better once I'm amongst the bookshelves, all on my own. I'm the only student here right now. As usual. The smell of a hundred unread books always seems to calm me. I pull down a book about a planetary system caught in the middle of a civil war, and page through it slowly, skimming the concept. I'd like to visit a faraway place like this before I disappear. The chance of disappearing, being swept away and forgotten, before I get the chance to do all those things I pictured myself doing as an adult hits me full force. I feel sick.

I put the book back, and go to the library desk. "Can I have a pen, please?" I ask. I plan on creating my very own bucket list.

The man behind the desk looks up from his book. And I start.

"You're not Mrs. McPhinnal," I say suspiciously. The man looks slightly unsure of how to respond to that.

"I agree," he replies, his voice bubbling with an unmistakably British accent.

"Are you her new assistant? You can't be." I don't know why he would be.

He leans forward, interested. "Why couldn't I be?"

"Because you look silly."

"What's wrong with silly?" He asks.

"Mrs. McPhinnal doesn't like silly."

The man does look silly. What sort of school staff member wears a bowtie and suspenders?

"Mrs. McPhinnal resigned," he says, "I'm the new librarian. Call me John Smith."

"Call me confused," I say. "Why did no one say she was leaving?"

"It was short notice," comes the answer.