Page 14 of Bad to the Bone
Chapter Eight
THEmeeting adjourned a few minutes later, but something kept Alex from heading straight home. After saying good night to Laura Lou, Jennifer, and Andy, he wandered from the cramped meeting room behind the circulation desk into the main expanse of the library. Sandy Neill, the other volunteer librarian, smiled at him before returning her attention to checking out a patron’s stack of books.
For a Monday night, he was pleased by the number of people taking advantage of the library’s resources. Several clusters of high school students gathered in the reference section, where many of the shelves that once held thick volumes of encyclopedias had been replaced by a half-dozen computer stations. To the other side of the circulation desk, in the library’s media collection, he spotted an older woman in headphones listening to a CD while several others browsed the shelves of magazines and DVDs—with more than a few VHS tapes still mixed in. Other racks held a variety of video games and computer software.
Alex took the steps to the second floor, where the bulk of the fiction and nonfiction books were shelved. It was quieter there, the open children’s area in the center—which had suffered the brunt of the leaking roof—unoccupied this late in the evening. He took a deep breath, the indescribable yet unmistakable scent of thousands of books calming him. Surely they’d be able to make the town council see how vital it was to maintain this resource.
The fiction stacks to his left beckoned, each genre marked with an inviting endcap display highlighting new and recommended titles. Intrigued by its cover, he paused to read the blurb of the latest release in a popular mystery series, but his meandering steps were leading him along a well-worn path toward the science fiction and fantasy section. He turned between two shelves, moving out of view of anyone sitting at the tables or the handful of more comfortable chairs in the open reading area. Past a cross aisle and another row of shelves, still more bookcases lined the back wall. Even though there was no one nearby, Alex glanced both ways before slipping around the corner of the last case to a hidden alcove where the shelves covered an oriel window facing the green space behind the building.
This spot had been his sanctuary since middle school. He’d been a quiet, introspective boy, much happier reading than playing outside or with his sister—the six-year difference in their ages, a seemingly impassible gulf as children, meant they didn’t have many interests in common until they were both older. To counter his introversion, his father had pushed him to participate in team sports. Football wasn’t Alex’s first choice—he’d made the track and field team in seventh grade, but when the JV coach saw him at an intramural event, he’d quickly been drafted as a running back. He’d enjoyed the challenge, and what insecure teen wouldn’t love the adulation of the crowd whenever he broke a tackle to score a touchdown? And it made his dad so proud of him. He could have done without the macho posturing some of his teammates engaged in, but he did his best to distance himself from it.
He soon learned that required hiding his choice of reading material. In his first year on the middle school team, he’d been caught engrossed inThe Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobeand taunted for reading a “sissy book”—though he suspected the concept of reading for pleasure was in itself enough of an aberration, at least to Odell. After that, he found it easier to avoid confrontation by taking to his reading nook when he wanted to indulge in something that might be judged insufficiently “manly.”
One evening halfway through his freshman year, Alex had struggled to complete an algebra assignment and was anticipating diving into the latest novel from China Miéville when he found his refuge already occupied. The tall, skinny boy with long black hair seemed as startled as he was. He jumped to his feet, dropping the book he’d been reading to the floor. Alex bent to pick it up.
“The Return of the King?” He grinned. “I’m impressed. Most people think since they’ve seen the movies, they don’t have to read the books.”
“I haven’t seen the movie.” The boy snatched the book back and held it to his chest. “And don’t tell me what happens. I don’t want to spoil it.”
Alex made a locking motion near his lips. “Not a word.” Taking a closer look at the interloper, he asked, “Aren’t you in my math class? Ricky something?”
“Ricky Lee Jennings.”
“Alex Morrison. Mind if I join you?” When Ricky Lee shrugged, Alex dropped his backpack and sat cross-legged on the floor. “I thought I’d never get through those equations.”
Ricky Lee sat again too. “Seriously? That stuff’s easy.”
“Easy for you, maybe. All those symbols and formulas look the same to me.” Alex grimaced. “If I can’t figure it out, I might have to drop from the JV team. Can’t play football if I’m not passing all my classes.”
Ricky Lee pushed a hank of dark hair from his forehead. “I could show you, if you want.”
That had been the start of their friendship, right there. Thanks to Ricky Lee, Alex avoided the mandatory tutoring Coach Tyler made anyone on the team participate in if their grades slipped. Odell, who struggled with math as much as Alex had before Ricky Lee, complained to anyone who’d listen about the twice-a-week sessions he had to endure at the library after practice. They’d helped enough to keep Odell on the team, though they’d also led to the night at the beginning of senior year when he followed Alex to his hidden nook and caught Ricky Lee surprising him with a kiss….
The lights overhead flashed twice—the signal the library would be closing in fifteen minutes—breaking Alex out of the memory. He touched a finger to his mouth, as if he could still feel the brush of Ricky Lee’s lips. Shaking his head, he headed out of the stacks and back downstairs.
TWOdays later, Freeland mayor and council president Donald Findlay pounded his gavel to cut through the chatter of voices filling the largest meeting room in the town hall. “This special session of the Freeland town council will come to order!”
The noise level in the room quieted as people broke out of the small clusters they’d been standing in to find seats. Findlay banged the gavel one more time for good measure. “Thank you. We are here tonight to solicit public input on the proposed sale of the land on South Wichita Avenue currently occupied by the Freeland Public Library.”
Alex was pleasantly surprised to see so many townspeople present, even if not all of them planned to speak. Nearly all the folding chairs set up behind the microphone facing the five council members were filled. He recognized many of the attendees as library patrons or teachers or administrators from the local school district, who could be counted on to advocate against the proposal.
“To begin, we will hear from the prospective purchaser of the land, Mr. Odell Tillman.”
Odell rose and made his way to the microphone. Tall and stocky, he moved with the easy assurance of someone whose family had been one of the most prosperous in town for generations. He tilted the mic up and fiddled with it until he found a position he liked.
“Most all of you know me. Tillman Motors has been one of the leading businesses in Freeman for over fifty years, and I expect I’ve sold cars to a good number of you.”
“Only because there’s nowhere else closer than Lawton to buy one,” someone muttered, and Mayor Findlay tapped his gavel when chuckles broke out from several people who’d heard the comment.
“The land in question sits directly next to Tillman Motors. Purchasing it will allow us to extend our lot to accommodate hundreds of additional cars. That means greater selection for you and increased tax revenue for the town of Freeman.”
“And most importantly, increased revenue for Odell Tillman,” Jennifer whispered from beside Alex.
“While this will require tearing down the current library structure, the benefits to the community will far outweigh the loss of a dilapidated building that most of the town doesn’t get any benefit from anyway.”
A babble of protest erupted at that comment, compelling Mayor Findlay to gavel the group back to order. “Please allow Mr. Tillman to conclude his remarks. The floor will be open to dissenting speakers shortly.”
“Dissenting?” Andy Dorman frowned. “That sounds as if he’s leaning in favor of the sale.”
