Price Family Book Store (ON HOLD)

Chapter 3- Slow Silence

There always seemed to be a scent that lingered on the fibres of a freshly vacuumed carpet, a scent that could only be categorized as 'freshly vacuumed carpet'. Similar to the damp air after it rains is only identified as 'the damp air after it rains'. Jonah still agonized over exactly what the scent of 'freshly vacuumed carpet' was. Surely, it wasn't just that. As he sat on one of the uncomfortable reception chairs of his new school, waiting for any member of staff to arrive at the sleek, white desk, Jonah took note of the fact that this reception area, the first thing you see as you enter the building, was visibly cleaner than just a few paces down the hall. The hallway in question had just been cleared of the students passing through to their classrooms, the dark-haired boy sitting at the reception keeping his head down as each one passed, finding himself awkwardly staring at the feet of his by-passers. The teen sighed as he'd looked up and saw that, even though the other students had made their way to their registration classrooms, meaning that the school day should have begun for everyone, the receptionist still hadn't arrived. And so, he waited, staring down the now empty hallway with no real intention, once again. Nonetheless, he continued to watch the dull emptiness of the corridor to that side of him, his tanned fingers appearing golden as he drummed them against the contrasting white material of the seat that he sat on, his thoughts wandering aimlessly. Jonah's dark features seemed sunken and tired, like his father's, when he got bored, and waiting was what stripped him of all enthusiasm quicker than anything else. He was fast-paced, as he had been told by others and even observed it himself. He'd finished a new book within a few short hours and had been doing other things in that time too. In short, Jonah was fast and disliked it when others weren't.
As he thought back to the morning, recalling the items that he'd packed as he tried to think about the contents of the bag that he'd dropped at his feet upon sitting down, the teen was suddenly addressed by the loud voice of a female.

"Sorry that I'm so late. Can I help you?"

Jonah turned his attention upwards and saw a squat woman, looking somewhere in her late thirties or possibly early forties. She appeared cheerful, her face round and her cheeks red, the flushed tone of her skin blending nicely into her hair- the red dye having faded into a light pink, however, had left her roots a deep and warm ruby red. Jonah continued to inspect her, standing up and approaching the desk as he did so, his steps almost cautious. She was a large woman with a freckled face and dark yet welcoming eyes- one of the friendliest faces that Jonah had ever seen. He gave her a forced smile and finally responded to her question as he leaned forward on the desk, looking down at her.

"Hey," he began nervously, "I'm starting here today and I was told that somebody would have sorted out my timetable. I should apparently be taken to my first class from here." As if to clarify exactly where 'here' was, Jonah raised one hand off the desk, now tapping the plastic with the tip of his index finger, giving the surface three light taps before standing up straight again, putting both hands into his pockets. He spoke with a slightly questioning tone, checking the arrangements and subtly asking for confirmation that he'd understood everything correctly. The receptionist nodded and spun, now facing the computer, finally sitting down on the chair that she had been standing beside. The desk chair sunk slightly as she sat down, logging into the school computer, addressing Jonah as she did so.

"What's your name, sweetheart?" she asked in an overly cheerful manner.

"Jonah Lane," he responded, quickly, wanting to get to class as soon as he could.

"Jonah Lane," the receptionist repeated with a smile, "I like the name, Jonah. It was one of the names that I would've liked to give to my son, but my husband didn't overly like it."-As she took a quick pause, Jonah realized that the overly friendly nature of this woman made her the one who could be expected to engage in much more personal and irrelevant conversation whenever she got the chance. She continued to ramble- "Instead we called him Jack. Little Jack Barker." Jonah simply responded with a quiet hum and a nod, not entirely certain about whether or not she desired a response at all, and what he should be saying if she did.
The teenage boy watched as her fingers tapped away on the keyboard, the computer up and running and her getting to work on sending an email. He watched the letters appear on screen, but didn't actually bother to read the words. His gaze fell to the floor, staring tiredly at the bouncy carpet of a faded shade of blue, bordering on grey after god-knows-how-many feet trampling it every single day. Though, as he allowed his mind to begin wandering again. However, Jonah didn't get the time to get lost in thought this time, as the same orotund voice interrupted him again.