Page 90 of Bookworm

"Well good," she murmured, "I could use a little spicein my life. Can you tell me where to find it?"

"Aisle 18," I said.

"Thank you." With a nod, she marched away.

"I think that was my Sunday school teacher," Casey said.

Natalia whooped. "Coolest Sunday school teacher ever."

"Definitely the one with the best book taste," I added.

"I guess," Casey said.

"Even Sunday school teachers need romance, Case."

"I know, I'm not judging," she said."But why not just own it? She's a grown woman. She doesn't have to be all shifty."

I nodded. "I did get kind of asecret agent, keep-it-on-the-DL vibe."

"No need to hide. She can read what she wants."

"Yep," I said, "but if she really was hiding, I don't think she would've even come to the library. Maybe this is her little rebellion."

The girls murmured in agreement, and when the teacher came back, she had the book in hand. I scanned it, put one of our event flyers on top, then said, "Thank you so much for comingin today! Please consider supporting our Friends of the Library charity event where we raise funds to give books to underprivileged children. There's a QR code if you'd like to donate.Happy reading."

"You too," she said, giving me a small smile before she readjusted her shades and left.

The family I helped after her was totally different.

"So, you’re looking for an adventure in book form," I said to the man standing on the other side of the library counter, "preferably PG, middle grade with humor, featuring mythology because that's what your kids are into right now?"

The 40-something-year-old nodded. "Yes, and because I need to distract them, so I can finally get some work done."

I bit back a grin as the little girl and boy he'd brought with him chased each other, running circles around his legs.

"Guys," he said calmly, "if you don't stop that right now, I'm calling your mother."

The two looked up in alarm.

"I mean it." He leaned closer to me and dropped his voice. "I don't really mean it. My wife needs rest. That's why I told her I'd take them for a few hours. It's only been one, and it feels like a year. But I love the little heathens."

Either they heard what he said, or the warning had worn off because his children were now engaged in a pretend sword fight, involving two rulers they got from who knew where.

The man sighed then lifted a brow. "So miss, can you help?"

I nodded. "Absolutely! Try thePercy Jacksonseries by Rick Riordan. Also, theWarriorsseries by Erin Hunter;it's not gods and goddesses, but I hear the warrior cats are pretty awesome. The children's section is just that way on aisle five."

"Warrior cats," he repeated, sounding dubious, but the young girl paused.

Her t-shirt, featuring Hello Kitty, glinted under the lights, and hereyes held interest as she asked, "Did you say cats? I love them!"

I shrugged. "Then I guess you better go snag the books before someone else does. But no running," I added. "This is a library after all."

Her brother said, "Slo-mo zombie race?" and off they went, walking with their arms stretched out like extras fromThe Walking Dead.Dad followed after them, throwing a hasty "Thanks" over his shoulder.

The next person I helped was one of my favorites. A true romantic at heart, Mrs. Jenkins could read a book a day. She was in her late 70s, her salt-and-pepper hair always pulled back from her face with the prettiest pins, her eyes a deep chocolatey brown. But what I loved best about her was that Mrs. Jenkins was a book dragon just like I hoped to be when I grew up.

"Hi Mrs. Jenkins," I said as she came forward. "How are you today?"

---