Nathan entered the Library. It bustled with activity – a chaotic symphony. He tried to look unimposing as he read over his class schedule. The student Commlink proved just a tad bulky on his wrist but not overbearing – just an annoyance. Dead weight, too, since it had not activated yet. He shifted his backpack and walked slowly across the main floor through the maze of tables and chairs to take his place in line.
Like everything else at Hawkins, the library exuded immensity. The school appeared to spare no expense. Books still lined the walls and filled huge free standing bookshelves around the outer areas. All of them needed ladders to reach the top three rows. He gazed upward. The architects had designed the vaulted ceiling as a vast skylight, which flooded the entire library in natural light. The carpets, walls, chairs all popped with vivid colors. Flags and banners draped down and marked the center of this great rotunda: U.S.A., Tennessee, and Hendersonville flags to be sure; the U.N., U.E.O. as well. Banners for the five branches of the U.S. Armed Forces hung in one area; Nathan also saw banners for all State Universities and the other Hendersonville High Schools. He then gazed over the Hawkins Championship Pennants, too numerous count, though one displayed a date well over a century ago. The second and third floor railings that surrounding the flags and banners gave the rotunda a distinct octagonal appearance – a cool illusion Nathan thought. More bookshelves stood just beyond the railings – at least from what he could see. Not many schools invested much in actual books anymore, but, then again, Hawkins had over a century to collect them.
Nathan stepped-up to the processing table and placed his thumb on the touchpad. The terminal confirmed his identity as one of the Librarians stamped his class schedule and placed it in a pile to her right. He received a map of the school, which illuminated his class rooms and times; a list of required readings, and the weekly lunch schedule. Since he played soccer and was in the band, all that material came next. She then directed Nathan to place the Commlink in a slot. Nathan inserted his wrist and felt something grip. He heard a distinct CLICK. A green glow emitted.
“It’s now locked to your physiological signature,” the Librarian explained. “It will function only for you. Do not attempt to remove, modify or alter it. It is shock resistant and waterproof. You will deposit it at the end each day; retrieve it each morning. The designated areas are marked on the map. You cannot enter the School without it. Any questions?”
Nathan shook his head as he removed his hand from the interface and stepped aside. He spotted a table in a distant corner and started through the crowds. Portraits of each President of the United States, Governors of Tennessee, and Mayors of Hendersonville had walls dedicated to them. Pictures of past Principles, past football, baseball, basketball, soccer, volleyball and other sports teams also had prominent displays. The marching band wall resided in its own alcove. Historic vistas of Hendersonville lined still other walls. More large screens, mounted in strategic locations, flashed school and local and national news -- and a couple even carried sports. Computer terminals, tables, sitting areas seemed to reside everywhere, and yet it still did not feel cluttered.
Nathan settled on the table. Before he sat, he pulled a small paperback from a side pocket on his backpack: Milton’s Paradise Lost: A Modern Interpretation. He folded his map inside. Nothing about this monograph would appear overly unique, but to Nathan it remained particularly special. His older sister successfully published it this year. Stephani had graduated high school a full year early and now attended UCLA. Although she planned to become a lawyer, her work in literature had proven exceptional. She would have two advanced degrees in short order.
Nathan read to pass the time until first period began but took occasional moments to glance about the library. He thought he recognized most everyone who had attended Knox Doss and now became caught-up in the redistricting. Somehow he thought there would be more. He grinned slightly noting that even this microcosm of “Dossers” broke into cliques. Clearly some had stayed in touch during the summer; others now saw each other after a long absence. He occasionally overheard passing comments about the football stunt, interspersed with laughter.
He took a pen from his backpack. He then pulled a worn, small leather brown book wrapped with a rubber band from another pocket. After removing the band, he flipped pages, which appeared filled with scribbles, doodles, sketches, notes, folded papers as well as (and he started to write another one) poems.
Everyday just gets a little shorter
Don’t you think?
Take a look around you, and you’ll see what I mean
People got to come together
Not just out of fear
Where do we go?
Where do we go from here?
WUMP!
CRASH!
Nathan closed his books. He looked over toward the commotion. Soooo … he thought, here he would behold his first taste of Cougar hospitality. Two rather bulky boys had squared off against each other. Angry words exchanged, they both half swung, half kicked at each other. The table they had overturned rested near the side door, chairs scattered. Nathan tilted his head slightly, watching with calculated interest. He didn’t recognize them from Doss. Apparently they had stumbled in from the hallway? The fight appeared all emotion with short, stabbed words, pushes and half blind swings. The blows landed by happenstance. Nathan snapped the rubber band back about his notebook and shoved everything into the backpack. He stood-up to get a better view as students began to gather. A couple shouted into the hallway and soon more students started pouring into the library. Nathan looked to his left, one of the librarians already screamed into her Commlink.
The combatants locked into their struggle. They grabbed at each other, went close quarters and threw short, low punches. Nathan worked his way through the crowd. A particularly animated boy who wore a Detroit Tigers baseball cap had already started collecting wagers, shouting odds and taking money as he scribbled in a notepad of his own. That was fast.
Eventually, one combatant pulled the other one to the ground. They rolled inter-tangled. “Cheers,” “whistles,” and “hisses” sounded; clapping would come and go as Fortuna would change her mind from one to the other. The din grew. Nathan looked down and noticed that all the student Commlinks had shifted from a green hue to red. An alarm sounded.
Somebody bumped Nathan from behind hard – hard enough to dislodge his backpack. By the time he turned back, five guys had pushed by him and stood at the forefront of the crowd. Nathan noticed how they received a wide berth. How curious, he thought. Then he pierced his lips and inhaled, causing a feint whistle. One of these boys stood 6’4”, easy; maybe 225-230lbs, he guessed. Let’s just say plain HUGE. The remaining four were no slouches either, all looked chiseled from granite. They stood side-by-side, watching the fight intensely. No mistake here: these five commanded attention and exercised a fair amount of authority. Many about the crowd appeared as interested in them as they all were in the fight.
The taller of the two combatants pulled away. He raised both hands, almost howling. The other one tackled him though suffered a strike of clenched hands to his back. They fell into a bookshelf.
“Oh gods,” Nathan muttered. He saw it coming before the first bolts started to give, but the pops and cracking promptly followed. The shelf swayed and did not upright. It toppled back. It hit a hanging light, sparks flew then it slammed into the next shelf. Books exploded all over the floor. The crowd there scattered, and, for a moment, Nathan thought the second shelf might hold. Too soon, however, the popping and cracking began again as the boys, who had rested against the now overturned shelf, rolled again to the floor. This time, however, a girl had started backing out through a door on the far wall, obviously pulling something with her. She of course had backed into the path of the second collapsing bookshelf. One simply could not write a scene better than this, Nathan bemusedly thought.
He started to shout but checked himself. The surrounding commotion proved too intense. His rush of adrenaline caused time to slow. He beheld everything: the bolts on the second shelf giving way, the two boys still at it, with the shorter one having pushed the other away with a blow of both feet square in the chest, then leaping-up himself; the crowd cheering, beckoning.
Nathan dropped his pack and shot forward. A punch landed. The taller opponent fell back into one of those five -- the middle one. He had long blond hair pulled tight into a ponytail. Ponytail grabbed the guy’s shirt with both hands and launched him into the air with a shove that could have overturned a small car. Nathan ducked slightly as he cut between them. He pushed Ponytail’s arms aside, knocking him off balance slightly. More sparks flew; books started sliding out when the final inside bolt gave.
After what seemed like an agonizingly long time, Nathan lunged forward.
“LOOK-OUT!” He shouted.
The girl jumped and began to whirl.
Nathan grabbed her about the waist with his left arm, yanking her sharply away from a cart she had been pulling. He practically crushed her back against his chest and covered the back of her head with his right arm, tucking his own head next to hers. His momentum should now carry them both–*
CRACK! WHUMP!
The shelf struck Nathan in the back of the head and his back in rapid order. His knees buckled. He pulled her tighter and threw his weight to the side, slamming himself onto the floor hard and then the wall from the slide. He heard the shelf crush the cart and more books explode all over the floor. He laid still; eyes closed. Okay, being her cushion? That hurt.
He heard people start to work their way around the overturned shelves.
“SECURITY!” Someone then shouted. “COACHES!” Someone added. A stampede began.
Nathan felt someone pull at his arms. He heard female voices; one sounded familiar. Nathan loosened his hold on the young woman, and he felt someone roll him over onto his back. Everyone seemed to talk at once. Even though he heard questions, he ignored them.
“Dude, that was awesome!” Someone then laughed.
Nathan opened his eyes. “Ouch!” He exhaled.
The young man who had been taking the bets kneeled over him, grinning from ear to ear. “Totally awesome.”
Nathan watched as security took up positions. Large, very athletic men shoved their way through the scrambling crowd and jerked the boys apart. Principle Wells entered from another location.
“Dude, you saved the girl!”
Nathan raised an eyebrow. “Put me down for ten that coaches break-up the fight before it ends.”
The young man laughed as Nathan slowly started to rise. Something then slammed into his shoulder, throwing him back down on the floor, a weight then hammered into his chest.
“Stay down!” A voice snarled. “You could be injured!”
Nathan locked eyes with Pony Tail as the Bookie stepped back quickly. Pony Tail’s thick soled boot rested squarely on Nathan’s sternum.
Pony Tail then abruptly turned to his left. “You alright, Gwendy?”
“She’s fine, Shane.” A girl replied. Wait, Nathan thought, that was Tonya.
Shane turned back. He stood a couple inches shorter than Nathan but probably carried an extra twenty pounds – all muscle. The hair appeared naturally blond, slightly curled though pulled back tight. He had a noticeable scar just below the left cheek. And, good gods, his biceps had to be the size of Nathan’s thighs. He wore tight black pants, large black leather boots and belt, sleeveless denim jacket covering an equally black skin tight t-shirt
“You’re quite the hero there, chuckles.” Shane removed his foot from Nathan’s chest, knelt down and lowered his voice. “Funny thing about heroes, they usually get a lot of people hurt – or killed.”
“SHANE PHELPS! FRONT AND CENTER!” A coach’s shout interrupted.
Shane lightly slapped Nathan on the cheek a few times. “Better have that head checked.” He stood and turned. “And I’ll check on you later darl’n,” he grinned pointing over to the one Nathan had shielded from the falling shelf.
Nathan watched as Shane stepped over the mess and faced one of the coaches. “One had a ring,” the coach started with a finger in Shane’s chest. Principle Wells looked on silently.
The Bookie squatted next to Nathan. “DUDE! You saved the girl AND pissed-off Shane? You are my new best friend.” He removed his baseball cap. “Name’s Jon Burcham, you are?”
“In pain,” Nathan started as he tried to sit-up.
“Nathan Baird,” Nathan heard a familiar voice intercede. He looked over. “Matt!”
“Dude, you DO know everyone,” Jon laughed.
Matt turned to him. “How’d you do?”
“Not too bad. Looks like seven pay-outs,” Jon replied glancing at his notepad. ”I didn’t have much time to collect.”
They both helped Nathan to his feet. Yep, he was still in pain. “Who was the Ponytail built like brick shithouse?”
“Shane?” Matt replied. “Trouble with a capital T.”
“Leader of the Gang,” Jon added.
“A gang?” Nathan asked as he twisted, testing his back.
“No,” Matt replied. “THE Gang. Don’t tell me you Dossers haven’t heard of them?”
“The red vests?”
“Exactly,” Jon nodded.
“Just perfect.” Nathan muttered then turned to the girl. “Are you okay?”
She had stood with her back to them, another girl at her side. Tonya stood there too, smiling at Nathan. All stopped chatting with each other. “Yes,” the girl responded, turning around. “Thank-you.”
Jon and Matt glanced at each other, slight grins on their faces. Coaches started to drag the two fighters from the library; security and a third coach stood around Shane. The other four boys, including the giant, stood-off to one side. Huh, Nathan thought. They’re all wearing sleeveless denim. That’s not obvious. The girl, obviously shaken but still calm, looked back at the cart – or what remained of it under the collapsed shelf. The last of the crowd started to file out of the library, Tonya and the other girls with them.
“Oh lords,” one librarian managed as she stepped over some books. “What a mess.”
“How’s the head?” Matt asked.
Nathan started to rub it gingerly. “It hurts.”
“They’ll probably make you go to the Quack-Shack,” Jon retorted. He focused on his notepad again, appearing to add-up numbers.
“McClane! Burcham! Out!” The last coach shouted.
An uneasy feeling overcame Nathan. All five, who brushed past Nathan, stood at the Library’s main entrance, definitely focused on him. In fact, Shane stared intently at Nathan. Nathan stopped all movement and met it. Seconds ticked. Shane slowly grinned, pointed at Nathan and walked-out, the remaining four followed.
“Perfect,” Nathan sighed.
“Good job there sport,” Matt smiled, slapping Nathan on the back, as he and Jon too made for the door.
“Now Shane knows you too,” Jon observed as returned the Tiger’s cap to his head.
“Ow!” Nathan grimaced. “Okay, that hurts too.” He rolled his arm, massaging his shoulder blade.
Nathan then knelt to collect some of the fallen books. A hand touched his shoulder.
“Are YOU okay?” The girl asked.
Nathan looked aside, slightly flushed. “Yes. I am afraid; however, your cart’s history.”
“That’s okay,” she smiled, “as long as you’re okay. Thank-you.”
He set a stack of books aside and stood. “Nathan,” he whispered. He leaned forward slightly and spoke a tad louder. “Nathaniel Baird.”
“Gwendolyne Stacy.”
Nathan tilted his head. “Like the Spider-Man chara-“
“Yes,” she interrupted with a tone that said drop-it.
He turned and up righted a chair. “Gwen. I like that.” He glanced over to one of the librarians, who appeared to direct others with the clean-up. Custodial staff also started to gather. “Where do you want this, mam?” Nathan asked, indicating the books he had just stacked. She motioned to the side.
“Thank-you again,” Gwen whispered.
The last coach had now turned his attention to Nathan. “YOU! Go to Sickbay and have your head checked. That’s not a request.” He tossed Nathan his backpack.
Nathan nodded as he catched it.
Activity in the Library started to return to normal. Nathan looked about for the best path to the door but took one last time to glance at Gwendolyne. Writers will often invent a flaw here or there with their women in stories of old. Because, Nathan mused, they probably felt that it made them more “realistic.” Always something, but Gwendolyne was just plain beautiful – with no qualifications. Her skin lacked any blemish, fair with a slight hint of natural color. She stood somewhere about 5’10” Nathan guessed – tall but not too tall, and her figure was … lovely: firm, ample high breasts, a small waist that looked as if you could almost put your hands around it. Anyway, you longed to try. Nathan grinned. I guess I’ve done that already, eh? Long blond hair, nice hips, shapely athletic legs. Beautiful, smooth, curvy figure … just plain sexy. Artistically dull, but she sure did not feel dull when you looked at her.
The light white blouse and tight fitting blue skirt, though quite professional, accented everything perfectly.
“This fell out of your back pack,” Gwendolyne said holding out his sister’s book.
Nathan jumped slightly; his thoughts interrupted. He blushed, immediately fearful she had caught him. Ugh, she had to have seen him admiring her. “Whoosh,” Nathan exhaled. Well, can’t deny it. “Sorry,” he smiled.
She touched his arm. “Thank-you again, Nathaniel.”
He reached for the book but noticed she no longer looked at him. He followed her gaze, turning around. Shane stood in the hallway, arms crossed, looking at them through the main window.
“What is this?” Nathan said slowly through the corner of his mouth.
She stepped-up, interjecting herself between Nathan and the window, her back now to Shane. “Nothing. Don’t worry about it.”
She gazed into his eyes as Nathan took the book. “Will I see you around?”
“Most definitely,” Nathan smiled.
The coach grabbed Nathan by the arm and pulled him away. “Sickbay, hero!”
Nathan noticed Shane had vanished as they exited.
Yep. Just perfect …
