Kara and I were walking home from violin and we were passing by the one that we always passed. I stopped and looked at it, with its little wooden roof with its dusting of snow.
Kara kept walking and stood a bomb's blast away.
Inside, through the glass door, the books announced their titles: a few romances, a book about buddhism, and an outdated guide to Paris.
"Don't, Morgan," she said.
I didn't, even though I am interested in buddhism.
Later that winter, me and Jason were waiting for our parents to come pick us up. He was talking about Pokemon and I was zoning out a bit, looking at the Little Free Library, wondering if the book on Buddhism was still in there. But now the little Library looked a bit creepy to me -- almost like a poisonous mushroom there on a long stem, waiting for an unsuspecting person to touch it.
Jason noticed me staring I guess because he started throwing snowballs at the Library. I almost told him to stop but then didn't. His first few missed. "Nice try," I said, egging him on.
"There is no try," he said in a croaky voice. His very next snowball nailed the Library, and it shuddered there for a bit not exploding. Jason had a smug look on his face, but I have to admit the throw was pretty Jedi and maybe it was justified.
I unhooked the little latch and lifted the lid. The book was still there, and I took it out.
"What are you doing?" he said.
"Do you think Yoda was a buddhist?" The book smelled of flowers of some sort.
"What's a buddhist?" Jason said.
"My aunt told me this buddhist thing once. Feel the sadness, but don't be sad. Like let it go through you, don't fight it." It was at Grandpa Hanson's funeral.
"Yoda was all about fighting the Empire, so I doubt it."
I looked in the index for "sadness."
I returned the book for three weeks, a normal library period, because I didn't know how to renew it. I read a bunch of it. The stuff I found the most confusing was letting go of desires. It was hard to understand how that was a good thing. Why do anything if you don't want anything?
As I opened it up I saw a flash of a white haired lady before the curtain at the house fell back -- I guess the owner of the Library was watching me. I wondered if she had heard the rumour about the bombs.
Before I put the book back I peeled off the yellow sticky I'd made, and put it on the outside of the box. It said: "Checked for bombs: All clear. Happy reading!" Kara and I were walking home from violin and we were passing by the one that we always passed. I stopped and looked at it, with its little wooden roof with its dusting of snow.
Kara kept walking and stood a bomb's blast away.
Inside, through the glass door, the books announced their titles: a few romances, a book about buddhism, and an outdated guide to Paris.
"Don't, Morgan," she said.
I didn't, even though I am interested in buddhism.
Later that winter, me and Jason were waiting for our parents to come pick us up. He was talking about Pokemon and I was zoning out a bit, looking at the Little Free Library, wondering if the book on Buddhism was still in there. But now the little Library looked a bit creepy to me -- almost like a poisonous mushroom there on a long stem, waiting for an unsuspecting person to touch it.
Jason noticed me staring I guess because he started throwing snowballs at the Library. I almost told him to stop but then didn't. His first few missed. "Nice try," I said, egging him on.
"There is no try," he said in a croaky voice. His very next snowball nailed the Library, and it shuddered there for a bit not exploding. Jason had a smug look on his face, but I have to admit the throw was pretty Jedi and maybe it was justified.
I unhooked the little latch and lifted the lid. The book was still there, and I took it out.
"What are you doing?" he said.
"Do you think Yoda was a buddhist?" The book smelled of flowers of some sort.
"What's a buddhist?" Jason said.
"My aunt told me this buddhist thing once. Feel the sadness, but don't be sad. Like let it go through you, don't fight it." It was at Grandpa Hanson's funeral.
"Yoda was all about fighting the Empire, so I doubt it."
I looked in the index for "sadness."
I returned the book for three weeks, a normal library period, because I didn't know how to renew it. I read a bunch of it. The stuff I found the most confusing was letting go of desires. It was hard to understand how that was a good thing. Why do anything if you don't want anything?
As I opened it up I saw a flash of a white haired lady before the curtain at the house fell back -- I guess the owner of the Library was watching me. I wondered if she had heard the rumour about the bombs.
Before I put the book back I peeled off the yellow sticky I'd made, and put it on the outside of the box. It said: "Checked for bombs: All clear. Happy reading!"