Page 19 of Isabelle and the Beast

“Do you want to come with us?” Theodore asks.

Bless him. “I suppose so,” I say, feigning nonchalance. I fall into step behind the unlikely duo. They say nothing as they walk, but I’m sure I heard them speaking when they were first walking down the hall. My presence must be a conversation stopper.

I tend to have that effect on people.

After another minute of walking and turning through the corridor, we arrive at the double doors of the library.

Theodore stands in front of us, his back to the doors. “Are you ready?” he asks Isabelle with a wide grin.

She smiles good-naturedly and nods. “I think so!”

With a flourish, Theodore opens the door and sweeps his arms wide. “Here we are, the library!”

I hear Isabelle take a sharp inhale. I try to see the library through her eyes, as if it were my first time here. At approximately two thousand square feet, it’s a marvel to behold. My father loves to read and made sure to fill each of the shelves with books for education, entertainment, and everything in between. Ornate white shelves line the walls, along with matching white shelves creating aisles through the room. In the center are three couches with enough pillows and blankets to create forts and read books in for days.

It’s been many years since I’ve built forts here with my siblings. I’m hit with a hard wave of nostalgia but swallow it deep, deep down where Isabelle won’t be able to see.

“This is incredible,” she breathes.

“Are you much of a reader?” I ask.

She chances a glance at me, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. “Not really. I was already weird enough as the girl who was super into musicals.”

My traitorous heart leaps at that commonality. Not that I want to share.

She sighs. “But if I’m stuck here with nothing else to do, I might as well read.”

“A noble way to pass the time,” I agree.

She nods, her fingers brushing the spines of the books as she walks down the aisle. “What about you? Do you read much?”

My eyes drift back to the couches, a memory of an evening here with my siblings when we first moved in. I tried to organize them into re-enacting a movie—I believe it was Transformers. As usual, my brothers were not cooperating. Henry wanted to play video games, not act out a scene. Peter insisted on being the dashing hero, instead of the minion I had assigned him to be. But little Lily, with her long, golden blonde hair…sweet Lily would do whatever I asked.

Father was on one couch, immersed in a book about business and marketing. And our mother sat on the other couch, a blanket wrapped around her legs and bunny slippers on her feet, pretending to read a book about ocean life. But I knew she was watching us with a small smile.

“Why don’t you read?” I asked her.

“I’m watching my whole world,” she said with a wink.

Back in the present, I snap my attention back to Isabelle, feeling my expression turn stony. “No. I don’t read.”

I turn away from her and walk toward the window. This is why I don’t come inside the library often. Too many memories of better times. It’s not the most painful room in the castle, but it’s bad enough.

“Isabelle, come read me a story,” Theodore says, returning to her side and pulling on her hand.

“Are there any superhero stories here?” she asks, following him to the small section of children’s books. And for some reason, I follow along behind them.

He shakes his head sadly. “It’s all girl books. Princesses and fairies.”

“Well, a lot of times there’s a dashing prince who saves the princess,” she says. “I think you might find some inspiration there.”

“But sometimes the princess just saves herself,” Theodore complains. “Those ones are boring.”

I snort a laugh despite myself. Isabelle catches the sound and chances a look over at me, and I don’t change my expression quickly enough. We end up sharing a smile at Theodore’s antics.

“Why are there only ‘girl’ books?” she asks, even using her fingers to put air-quotes around the word.

Theodore shrugs, starting to look through the options for Isabelle to read to him.

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