Expression Of Age

The lightbulbs above Camari’s head flickered with a pale yellow light. The library was deathly quiet, even for a library. The grandfather clock chimed softly, the twelve chimes reflecting the late hour. Everyone had left a long while ago, and the librarian had kept the lights on for Camari so she could finish her project. She smiled at the elderly lady with her steel-rimmed glasses and flowered dress that flounced as she dusted the books. Camari focused on her blaring laptop screen, as the words blared together. AP History was not her best subject decision, and this was not the first time she had spent all night in the library researching. Now, the websites about the Victorian Age were open on her computer, and books were strewn around her table. But she still couldn’t find anything interesting. She got up and traced the rough book spines as she looked for another title for her paper.

She was sleepy, but she kept at it, flipping open books about the Victorian Age and skimming through. Through the corner of her eyes, she saw books shifting, and figured it was the librarian dusting the books. But as she turned to ask her for help, she saw a thin gaunt boy staring back at her. He was peering into a book and his greasy black hair hung in strings over the pages. His spindly arms struggled to hold the stack of books and he wore black clothes and dirty trainers. “Here, let me help with that” Camari said.

She picked some of the books and then set them on the table. She glanced over the titles. “Victoriana and its impact on modern society”. “Hey, can I borrow this?” she said, holding up the book.

“After me.” he replied “I have a project due about the Victorian Age for my AP History class. Then you could?” He spoke quietly, with perfectly enunciated words. Camari was surprised. “I have the same project for my class.”

The boy laughed. “No way. My teacher is really strict. She takes all of our projects really seriously. She said it would count as 30% of our semester grade.”

Camari couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Is your teacher Ms. Anderson?” The boy looked at her, surprised. “Yeah, she is actually” he replied. “This seems strange, but we might be in the same AP History class, but I have literally never seen you before today. No offence” She added quickly. He laughed again. “No thats okay, I usually sit in the back anyway. I don’t talk a lot. I’m a very stereotypical introvert.”

Camari smiled. “What’s your name?”

“Aidan Spark” he replied

“Well, Aidan, would you like to write your research paper with me?” She asked. Aidan sat down at her wooden table and nodded, whipping out his laptop. She opened the book in her lap.

The library was silent again, other than the occasional humming for the librarian. Their laptops burned bright, lighting the books around the table, and highlighting the stacks behind them. The lightbulbs cast shadows above them as they scratched away at the ruled paper. Clicks and page turns broke the concentration and questions about the Age were frequent. Minutes stretched into hours, and words grew into paragraphs, and at 1:30 in the morning, they closed their laptops and stapled the loose sheets of messy writing together. Stress and relief broke from the floodgates as they got ready to head home, backs aching, and eyelids heavy. The librarian took out her keys and. watch them leave the building. “See you tomorrow,” Camari said to him as he walked away

He smiled and walked into the night

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When Camari walked into her History class, her eyes flew to the back of the classroom, where she saw empty desks and a few other kids on their phones. Aidan wasn’t there. She thought that he was late, so she left her paper on Ms. Anderson’s desk. “Hi, Ms. Anderson, is Aidan here today?”

“Aidan who?”

“Aidan Spark. Skinny, black hair? Sits at the back?”

“I know I’m bad with names Camari, but I have never heard of an Aidan Sparks. And I don’t know anyone who matches that description. I’m sorry honey, maybe age is catching up with me, but I wish I could help you.”

Camari gave her a light smile. “No, thats perfectly okay, it’s not that important anyway.” She was uneasy, and could feel her stomach knotting. She sat through history tapping her foot, restless. When the bell rang, she grabbed her bag and ran to the library.

She said hello to the librarian before setting down her bag at the table she sat at yesterday. The books still hadn’t been cleaned up and laid in a mess around a table. she shifted through the pages and found the book she had taken from Aidan yesterday. “Victoriana and its impact on modern society”. The book was lying open, its pages crinkled at the edges. The book was open to a page of a family in front of a Victorian Manor

“Sparks family, 1850” She looked at the family, with their thin faces and jet black hair. A boy looked at her from the black and white picture, with skinny arms and greasy hair. She looked back at Aidan, and Aidan blinked back at her