Stuck in a Book

Chapter One

Stuck in a Book

 

THE ONE FAIRYTALE Isabelle hadn’t even bothered to see or read was Beauty and the Beast. It didn’t interest her at all, and she’d never felt the need to see it. Just by reading that bit in the book of fairytales her dad got her, she could already figure out the ending. If there was anything in the world Isabelle hated, it was reading a predictable book or eating peas. Even at fifteen, she’d never grown out of her dislike for peas.

       Rolling down the city street on her skateboard, Isabelle waved to a gaunt old man under the porch of a cozy shop. His named was John Foxworthy, but everyone called him Flea. He was always there, lounging in his rocking chair, and everyone knew him. The man removed his frayed hat politely, showing a row of smiling gums. “Mornin’ Is,” Flea greeted, a strong Southern accent flowing through his voice. He had a face that looked as if someone had tried to mummify him and got half way before realizing he was still alive.

       “Good morning Flea,” Isabelle replied.

       “Where ‘ya headed this fine morning?”

       “Just the library,” Isabelle told him, stopping her board. “I finished a really good story,” she added. Flea nodded, fingering his white, wispy beard. Seeing that he wasn’t going to respond, Isabelle continued down the road. She pulled into the library parking lot, strangely empty for a Saturday morning.

       She stepped off her board and kicked it to her hands before carrying it inside. Indoors, she had to blink from lack of sunlight. “Hello, Is,” welcomed a librarian. His black, curly hair was beginning to show streaks of gray. “Back already?”

       “Yeah.” Isabelle pulled a book from her bag. “I just came to return this.”

       “But you just started! Now I have to scour the shelves again for you, and I hadn’t had time to search.”

       “I’m sorry,” Isabelle laughed. “I couldn’t put it down.” The librarian sighed as the girl set the book at a large table that had RETURN on a piece of paper at the front. “Do you have anything new?”

       The librarian chuckled. “Not since yesterday.”

       “It’s all right. I’ll just go find Gertrude’s Palace.”

       “But you’ve already read that one two or three times.”

       “But it’s my favorite,” protested Isabelle. She went to one of the shelves and started her hunt. “There are magic spells, far off places, daring swordfights… all in one book.” The librarian rolled his eyes playfully and picked it off the shelf before Isabelle could.

       “Well, no one else has checked it out in years.” He leaned in close, holding out the book with a soft blue binding. “If you don’t tell you got it from here, it’s yours. I’m sure the library won’t miss it. They probably won’t even know it’s missing.” He winked.

       “Really? Thanks, Mr. Waterborne.”

       “No problem kiddo. Now go before you read all the other books in the library.”

       With that, the librarian scurried off to another isle, and Isabelle went back outside. A sharp wind tugged on her hair and chilled her to the bone, so she pulled her jacket tighter. It was only September, but it was already getting cold enough to wear a jacket outside.

       On her way back home, Isabelle passed a group of girls on a side street walking the opposite direction. She was reading her book, so she didn’t see when one took a long stick out of the gutter and placed it in front of her. Suddenly, in place of the words on the printed pages was solid concrete. Isabelle felt the skateboard ripped out from under her as she skidded a few more inches on her stomach. Her face was searing with pain, and blood was already trickling down her arms.

       Outraged, she flipped onto her back and searched for the perpetrator. Three giggling girls stood beside her. “Have a nice trip?” asked the leader, a raven-haired girl with skin like liquefied chocolate. Unfortunately, Isabelle had had the pleasure of meeting this girl, Jesseca Palmer, at school. She and her gang were completely opposite of Isabelle. But, she and Jesseca shared one thing in common: they hated each other’s guts.

       “What is wrong with you?” snapped Isabelle, clambering to her feet, wincing as the muscles in her confused legs protested. “I could seriously have been hurt.”

       “Really? Oops; let’s try it again and maybe we’ll be luckier this time.” A flurry of giggles erupted from the group. Isabelle’s temper simmered, but she turned her attention back to herself, examining the wounds on her arms. They were only scrapes, but her skin was really sensitive; she bruised and bled easily. “Ouch,” Jesseca said again. “That looks bad; you should get it looked at Belle.”

       “Seriously, you should be more careful on that vile skateboard,” added another.

       “Yeah. If your nose wasn’t stuck in that book all the time, you could pay better attention.”

       “Well I’m not usually looking for sticks just materializing in front of me, you moronic cows!” With that, she turned to Jesseca and narrowed her eyes, as if her appearance just hurt her head. “And do not call me that.”

       “It is your name you know; I can call you whatever I want.” Isabelle rippled with anger, clenching her fists.

       “If you"”

       “Chill, Belle. We’re leaving. We don’t fight with trash. Go on! Run home to your crazy daddy and he’ll patch you up.”

“Don’t talk about him like that! My dad isn’t crazy! He’s a genius.” In a flurry of flipping hair and dissonance of giggling, the three girls swaggered down the sidewalk. Fighting to contain herself, the remaining girl literally shook. When she was calm enough, she touched a finger to her cheek, but recoiled in pain as her skin pressed against the tender flesh. All was quiet; she could only hope that no one else had seen her fall.

       “It’s okay everyone; my face broke my fall,” she said to herself. When no one answered, she picked up her board and went fishing for her book in some nearby bushes.