Playing For The Other Team [REMAKE]

Chapter 2

When he pushes the door open, he's met by blissful silence. There is no hushed small-talk or any murmuring from other students. He hadn't expected it to be crowded after school, but ha had expected someone to be there. He starts searching for a place to sit, he finds - much to his relief - that he isn't alone in. There are a handful of students scattered among the shelves, occupying the small desks thoughtlessly arranged throughout the library.

There's an open spot at the back of the room, tucked away behind the shelves holding old and dusty mystery novels. It's conveniently right underneath a good light, and the air conditioner is nearby, providing a faint but refreshing breeze. It's the perfect spot, where the chances of being found or distracted are minimal.

Nathan wastes little time in seating himself by the desk and pulling his book out of his backpack. Determined to finish his assignment as quickly as he could, he gets to work the moment he's got the papers in front of him.

He had never been much for listening to music while he studied. He's too easily distracted to be able to listen to anything with words and music without lyrics makes his mind wander. So Nathan sits in the relative silence, the only noise being distant tapping of a keyboard, the occasional turn of a page somewhere, and the buzzing from the AC.

The assignment itself isn't very difficult. Nathan notices that several of the questions are rehashed versions of the examples the teacher has used in class - which is another reason why he's glad to be one of the few that pay attention during class. But as it often goes when he studies, he gets stuck.

He flips through the pages of his book, glaring at the digits and letters in search of an answer or some kind of clue. How hard could it be? While it isn't people trading apples anymore, he has to be able to dum them down into something similar, right?

Nathan thinks he might have found something akin to an answer, and begins writing the equation down somewhere to remember it when a loud crack followed by a crash sounds from behind the shelf on his right. The sound is enough to make him jump, and the string of soft swears is enough to draw him out of his seat to go and investigate.

A few rows of shelves down, Nathan finds a student crouching in front of a bookshelf whose lowest rack has broken apart and spilled its books onto the floor.

While Josh is terrible with remembering faces, Nathan is not, and he recognizes the student as the same one he had run into that morning.

The strange student sighs, head hung low as he mutters something under his breath.

Before Nathan has time to stop himself, he asks, "Are you okay?"

The other student doesn't shout, but he jumps back up and turns to Nathan with surprise written all over his face. "I'm fine," he blurts out as if it's an automatic answer. "I'm mean, yeah, uh..." The surprise fades and is replaced by embarrassment. "The... thing broke."

"I heard," Nathan says.

"It wasn't my fault," the stranger attempts to defend himself.

"I didn't say it was."

They look at one another. It's an awkward situation that doesn't get any better by the heavy silence and the way the two boys struggle to think of what to say or do. It's the stranger that break their stalemate by crouching down and picking the books up one by one, placing them into a neat pile.

Without thinking, Nathan heads over to help.

They go about their task in silence, gathering the books - that all seem to have made it out unscathed - into two stacks. As they do, Nathan can't help but throw curious glances at the boy crouched a few feet away. Nathan doesn't remember seeing him anywhere other than that morning. Nathan would like to think that he knows most of the people in school as it isn't particularly big, but he has no memories of the blond before him.

"We should leave these at the front desk, right?" Nathan asks as the final book is placed on one of the stacks.

"Right," the stranger mumble.

"I'll take one stack if you take the other?"

Without replying, the other student picks the pile of books closest to him, leaving the other to Nathan. They don't walk together as much as Nathan follows the stranger to the front desk where Mrs. Wilson - the old and proper librarian - sits and types on an old and blocky keyboard. She looks up in time just to see the stranger place his stack of books onto the desk. "Jonathan!" She exclaims as she rises from her squeaky desk chair. "I know you're a quick reader, but isn't this a bit overboard?" She asks as she eyes the books.

Jonathan - as the student seems to be called - sighs at her joke. There is, however, a soft smile on his lips. "The shelf finally gave way," he says. "Just like I told you it would."

Mrs. Wilson nods slowly. "So it did, huh? You weren't hurt, were you?"

"No," Jonathan replies. "And the books are fine, too."

"I'll see if I can find somewhere to put them until we get that shelf repaired or, though it's unlikely, replaced." The librarian moves the stack aside. "I suppose this garners another visit to the principal to beg for money, or maybe I should just go straight to Stephens..."

Jonathan shifts awkwardly, stepping aside to let Nathan put the books he carries on the desk. Neither of the boys says anything, and the way Mrs. Wilson turns pale makes them both avert their eyes.

"Nathan!" She cries. "Why, I didn't see you there." Her face goes from stark white to a flushed red. "How have you been? I haven't seen you around for some time." He nervous chatter ebbs back out into the tense silence.

"I'm... doing good," Nathan says, flashing her a careful smile. "Gotta get some study hours in."

Nodding, Mrs. Wilson clears her throat and adjusts the silky scarf around her long neck. "Oh, you... I'm... I hope you don't take offense from my... earlier words. I meant no offense," she attempts to explain.

Nathan decides to spare her, himself, and Jonathan the embarrassment and interrupts her with a shake of his head. "There's no need to apologize or feel guilty," he tells her. "I know the principal is spoiling our teams with new equipment. And for what it's worth, I do think it's weird and unfair since there are a hundred things that need to be fixed around here."

There's a pause, and the strange silence turns less tense. "Why I knew you were a clever boy, Nathan Bone," Mrs. Wilson says with a smile.

"I could talk to Coach Stephens," Nathan offers. "And try and tell him that we don't need new equipment. What we have is more than fine."

"I'd appreciate it. I'm sure they're tired of my nagging at this point."

Jonathan - that has been silent so far - clears his throat and takes a step back. "If there's nothing else you need me for, I'll get going."

"Yes, thank you, Jonathan," Mrs. Wilson says. "See you soon."

With a gulp and a quick glance at Nathan, Jonathan turns around and starts to head back into the maze of bookshelves. "Wait," Nathan calls out - earning himself a slight glare from Mrs. Wilson for shouting - and hurries to follow. He pursues the stranger, turning around the corner of a shelf only to run into him again, just like he had that morning. "Sorry," he says and takes a quick step away. "Jonathan, right?"

"Yeah."

"I just wanted to apologize about this morning," Nathan says. "I wasn't looking where I was going. It was my fault. And I'm sorry about Josh, he's got the worst temper. It wasn't your fault, no matter what he says."

Jonathan's eyebrows rise with surprise, and his eyes widen slightly. He looks at Nathan with his odd green eyes and looks as if he isn't sure of what to say or do. Then his face contorts into an angry frown. "Whatever," he says, and with a huff, he turns and walks away, disappearing deeper into the library.

Deciding not to linger any longer, having lost the concentration and motivation to finish his assignment, Nathan returns to his desk, packs up his things, and leaves.