A New Keeper Read online

  “That's me, I guess.”

  “I fudging knew it.”

  “Now I have to go,” I grabbed my bag and darted toward the door.

  “See ya,” called Lilly.

  The evening was setting in around me as I fast walked through the suburbs of Torbay. Yellow lit windows started to blink on in the shadowy houses. The skies were threatening rain, and I had not thought to bring a jacket with me. A single pioneer drop fell on the concrete in front of me. I looked about for somewhere to take cover.

  Another drop fell, and another.

  Up ahead there was a bus shelter. I hurried forward as the rain started to fall hard. My phone buzzed.

  It looks like it is going to rain.

  Thanks, Mom.

  I made it to the shelter just as it really started to pour. The sound of the rain hitting the tin roof of the bus shelter was soothing. I would have appreciated it more if it weren't for the cold and the anticipation of coming home to a shirty mother.

  Across from me, there was a row of shops. It was a collection of dry cleaners, stationers, and other businesses.

  I knew this area very well. Having only one friend and a fondness for walking meant I came by here every other day. But today something was out of place.

  Through the failing light and the heavy rain, I could see a shop that I had not seen before. Between the post office and the grocers, there was another shop. I could just make out the sign as: Fis Second Hand Books.

  A bookshop? But there was no bookshop in Torbay. I knew that. I was the book girl, and there were no bookshops in Torbay. Someone would have told me. It didn’t look at all like a new shop either. It looked tatty, like something established in the ’80s.

  But this darn rain!

  I resolved to check the store out as soon as it eased off. I was already late, but some things were worth investigating.

  “This weather!” said a voice. I turned to see an elderly woman shuffling out of the rain. She slowly walked over and sat down beside me.

  “Yeah,” I said.

  “Good walking weather, my husband would have said. He always liked spring.”

  The rain subsided a little and then came back stronger.

  “Not too hot, not too cold,” she continued.

  “Hmm,” I said. I wasn't trying to be rude, I just possess zero social skills.

  I wanted to go now but didn’t quite know how to disengage. It was an old lady trap.

  “Can’t walk in the summer because you get too uncomfortable.”

  I smiled and nodded.

  “Can’t walk in the winter because you will freeze. And these showers never last long, do they dear?”

  “It’s clearing up,” I said.

  “And here is my bus. Always the way.”

  “Oh, is it?” I asked.

  Cringe.

  “Thank you for listening to me natter on,” she said.

  I looked and saw a bus rounding the corner. It pulled up at the stop, and the old lady edged her way to the door.

  “Bye,” I said. I knew bye. Bye was easy.

  I got up from my seat and waited for the bus to drive on. Its engine growled, and it heaved away from the sidewalk.

  But when it was gone, I saw something which made my heart skip a beat. I cast my gaze over the buildings before me and shook my head in disbelief.

  The bookshop had vanished.

  CHAPTER THREE

  I hurried across the road and walked right up to where I had seen the bookshop, between the post office and the grocery store. It was nowhere to be seen. The two stores shared a wall.

  There was simply no room for a bookshop.

  My mind spun trying to account for this strangeness. I had seen the bookshop there. If I could trust my eyes, then I had seen it there.

  I grew afraid.

  It was dark now, and the street lamps had all switched on. I was about to start for home when I noticed something on the pavement. It was a business card, white, clean, and new. I bent down to pick it up.

  Fis Second Hand Books. Opening Hours: Spring Showers and Summer Snow Storms.

  It looked like some sort of joke. I turned it over. On the other side, there was an intricate black and white pattern made up of Labrador heads in silhouette. They formed a series of spirals.

  I stuffed it in my pocket and began walking home. When I was over the road, I took one look back, and then hurried on.

  I got home just in time for dinner. My mom, dad, and little brother Jonny were all sitting around the dining table. I joined them and opened Harry Potter to where I had left off, clinging to the familiar.

  “Really, Alex?” asked Mom.

  The book was open in my left hand as I maneuvered a fork full of food toward my mouth with my right hand.

  “What?” I mumbled.

  “The book, Alex. Can’t we just have family time without the book for once.”

  “I don’t trust him,” said Dad, watching the TV news from the dinner table.

  “Who?” I asked.

  “That Adams guy. I mean, look at him,” said Dad, gesturing to the television. He connected with that particular piece of technology in a way that no one else I knew could.

  “Really?” asked Mom, “is that how we are judging people now?”

  “Look at him. He looks like he sells used cars or something. I feel like he is trying to sell me a car right now.”

  “Now that you mention it,” said Mom, leaning into the madness.

  “He has loads of overseas money too if you know what I mean.”

  It was at that moment that I started feeling the tension rise.

  Aquaman gets to breathe underwater and command fish and stuff like that. My superpower was to sense the tension in the room. I shrank within myself.

  “OK, let's just finish the conversation here, shall we? I’m trying to eat,” said Mom.

  “I don’t want to sound racist or anything-”

  “Shppit.”

  “-but-”

  “Can you just turn it off?”

  “Can’t do that dear, sports next.”

  Realizing that family time was being revealed for the sham that it was, I slowly opened my book to where I was up to.

  Mom shot me a look.

  “I give up,” she said and pulled out her mobile. “You OK, Jonny?” she asked my little brother. He was nine, but he was a young nine if you know what I mean.

  “Yup,” he said.

  “You looked like you were off with the fairies.”

  Jonny always looked like he was off with the fairies. He looked at Mom with his eyes so wide that they were almost creepy. “Are fairies really real, Mom?”

  I couldn’t help but smile. Jonny was unique, that’s for sure. He had this ability to erect a barrier between him and the rest of the world, shielding himself from anything which might mess with his balance. I think I used to have that, but somehow I lost it.

  “Remember when we found the fairy circles in the forest?” asked Mom.

  “I didn’t see any fairies,” said Jonny seriously.

  “That's because they were hiding from Dad,” I said.

  “You beauty!” yelled Dad at some kind of sports.

  “Can we go look for them tomorrow?” Jonny asked.

  “Tomorrow is Tuesday, you will have to be at school tomorrow.”

  “Oh,” said Jonny. His face dropped.

  “If the weather is fine we can go on Saturday,” said Mom. She looked at me, and I nodded. The fairy forest was awesome.

  “Really?” asked Jonny, his eyes widening. He looked at me and then back to Mom, grinning. Jonny ate the rest of the meal humming along to himself. He ate his peas one at a time. Sometimes he took one up and split it in two, examining the inside before putting both halves in his mouth.

  Yeah, he was a weird one alright.

  After dinner, I helped Mom do the washing up. I usually don't, but I kinda felt bad for family time or whatever. I liked helping Mom, but I didn’t understand why we couldn't
just use the dishwasher. Sure it didn't make things absolutely clean, but it got them close enough.

  “Have you visited Grandma recently?” she asked.

  I picked up another dish, wiped away the bubbles, and put it on the shelf with its friends. “I will soon.” It really bothered me when Mom reminded me to do things like that. It's like she didn't think I was capable of thinking for myself or caring for people. I loved Grandma and loved visiting her. I just wished that for once I didn’t have to feel guilty when I saw her.

  “I was talking to your uncle,” she said in that casual way which people only use when their casualness is premeditated.

  “Which one?” I asked.

  “My brother, Jack.”

  Here we go. “Ah yip,” I said, regretting that I didn't take Harry Potter and hide upstairs.

  “Well I was talking to him, and he might have a summer job available, that is if you need the money?”

  That, of course, was mom-speak for you better start learning to get this money stuff soon, ‘cos I ain't gonna pay for things forever.

  “What kind of job?” I asked, hesitating.

  “Data entry I think. You will have to talk to him about it.”

  “So not working with actual other humans?”

  “No, just you and the computer.”

  “That sounds pretty amazing,” I said, deadpan.

  “You are a worry,” said Mom, “just give him a call, and see if he has anything.”

  “I thought you said there was a job.”

  “You will have to call and see.”

  It was a beautifully choreographed awkwardness trap.

  Thanks, Mom.

  I could feel the anxiety build in my stomach as I tried to imagine calling up Uncle Jack. I mean, what is even the script here? Like, did he have a job for me or not? I guess it kind of made sense that Mom had first checked that there was a position, but was I supposed to pretend I didn't know that?

  I didn't say anything more to Mom about it, and in my over-analyzing thought storm, I completely forgot to tell her about the bookshop.

  I’m not great with the whole ‘other people’ thing. I find it hard enough managing my own mental processes without taking other people into account.

  Data entry over the summer would have been a godsend, which is a shame because there was no way I was going to be able to call my uncle.

  I read for the rest of the night, trying to forget the day, forget the bookshop, and forget the data entry job. Once the lights were out, and I was tucked up in bed, my mind whirred along of its own accord. Was there a bookshop or wasn't there? Was I just going mad?

  The strange business card sat on my bedside table, existing stubbornly.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Lilly was used to me disappearing at lunchtimes. She was one of those people who kind of knew everyone, so she never had to sit by herself. I needed alone time. The school, in general, was a sea of sound and awkward situations just waiting to be stumbled over.

  I retreated into the school library. I didn’t read there in general because there was a lot of distraction.

  You would think that a library would be quiet, but this place was pseudo-quiet. The whispering was every so often broken with a 'sorry miss,' a moment of silence, and then more whispers.

  I tried to get there early so that I could sit at the most secluded table. This meant that I wouldn’t be eating until later.

  I sat down at my favorite seat, pulled out my book, and began to read. I hadn’t been reading long when a casual glance upwards led to eye contact with a person across the room from me. It was Darcy.

  Hank kicked my left lung.

  I wasn't sure if he had been there when I sat down or if he had sat across from me deliberately. I hoped that it wasn't deliberate because that was super creepy. I smiled at him weakly and tried to get back into my book.

  I shifted in my seat.

  Knowing he was there was distracting. I considered moving seats. What if he thought I was avoiding him? Or worse, what if he moved too?

  I had to leave the library.

  I put my book back in my shoulder bag and walked toward the exit, trying to look as casual as possible. I smiled at Darcy as I passed, but he wasn’t looking.

  Super awkward.

  There was only one place which properly met my requirements for solitude. Over the sports field out the back of the school, up a small bank, there was a small collection of trees. It was technically out of bounds, but it had served me well as an escape.

  I called it the sanctuary.

  There was only one problem. To get there I needed to cross the sports field, and at this time of the day it was swarming with sports humans.

  I needed strategies.

  Today I would use the ‘the ground is super interesting’ approach. That combined with the emergency ‘I was just thinking about something’ line would keep me from most social situations.

  I started the march.

  The first leg along the side of the field was clear. Good, no sideline supporters today. I made it passed unchallenged.

  The second leg would be more difficult. A small group of randoms was hanging out in the stands. They looked to be all boys.

  I focused on my breathing and on the ground and fast walked passed them.

  There was a whistle.

  They are probably not whistling at you, Alex. Keep on walking.

  “Hey!” called a voice.

  I was almost there. I didn't look up.

  “Where are you going?”

  I looked over my shoulder and then back to the ground, immediately regretting the move.

  “You deaf?” shouted another boy as I cleared the area. He sounded threatening.

  My pace quickened. It wasn't far now. My heart was beating fast.

  By the time I reached the bank, the boys seemed to have lost interest. I looked back to see if I was followed. No sign of anyone.

  At last, I was able to join my friends in the other world. I breathed a sigh of relief.

  It was so quiet in the sanctuary. The students messing around at school were just a distant murmur. The odor of damp earth and pine needles hung in the air. There were a few birds there, singing to one another.

  I sat down, leaning against a tree.

  A thrush burrowed its face into the fallen leaves in search of lunch.

  I closed my eyes. It was peaceful.

  “What are you doing here?” boomed a voice.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  I would have jumped if I wasn't sitting down. My eyes raced up and saw Mr. Wilson, the gym teacher. He looked stern. I put my book away, embarrassed.

  “What did you put in your bag?” asked Mr. Davis, who was coming at me from the other side. They had cornered me.

  “It’s a book,” I said, slowly taking it out again.

  “Were you smoking drugs?” demanded Mr. Wilson.

  “No,” I said, dumbfounded. The teachers were kind of out of breath.

  Was this a bust?

  “This area is out of bounds,” barked Mr. Davis.

  “I was just reading,” I said. I was kind of scared. These wo grown men were bellowing at me, all alone.

  “Harry Potter,” said Mr. Wilson, cocking his head to read the cover. “Aren't you a little old to be reading Harry Potter?”

  Mr. Wilson only had a limited understanding of pop culture. He only had a limited understanding of any culture for that matter.

  “No?” I said, hesitating. “It's my Mom's book.”

  “Oh,” said Mr. Wilson abruptly. “Well, you shouldn't be here.”

  “And if we see you here again it will be detention,” said Mr. Davis.

  “OK,” I squeaked.

  I got to my feet and brushed the leaves from my skirt. I was acutely aware of their eyes on me. I started off towards the field, cringing as I thought about walking by those boys again. I'd have to be more careful and hide behind a tree next time.

  “Stay away from drugs!” shouted Mr. Wilson as I
left.

  It had been a rough day, and I didn't want to go straight home in case Mom started talking to me about calling Uncle Jack. That was the last thing I needed. I decided instead to go to the shops by the park again and see if I could find the bookshop.

  Once I was out of the school grounds I took out the business card and examined it again. I reread the opening hours aloud to myself, “Spring Showers and Summer Snowstorms.”

  I examined the sky. It seemed cloudy enough, but would it rain? I could only hope.

  Lilly text me to see what had happened to me at lunch. I felt pretty stink about ditching her. I don’t know why she hangs out with me.

  Looking for a bookshop. Talk later.

  As I walked a chill wind whipped about me. I shivered, pulled my hands inside the sleeves of my oversized maroon sweater, and quickened my pace.

  A raindrop fell. I smiled to think that I was pleased to get caught in this weather. Soon the rain was loud as it fell all about me, seeping through my sweater and into my skin. I hurried on towards the shops.

  As I approached I scanned the scene for the bookshop. To my relief, I saw it. There it was, casually real, right between the post office and the grocers. A warm yellow light glowed from within.

  I pulled the heavy door open and closed it behind me. The sound of the rain was muted, and I became conscious that I was dripping onto the carpet.

  “We are closing in ten minutes,” said the scruffy man behind the counter without looking up from his phone. He didn't seem like someone who would own a disappearing shop. Come to think of it, I wasn't sure what such a person should look like. A wizard maybe?

  I love old bookshops, the kind where you feel like you could get lost in the shelves forever, the ones where rows and rows of old books twist and turn impossibly, gaining in mystery the deeper you dare to go. In these shrines, every volume contains an adventure, silently waiting on a dusty shelf. Those are the bookshops I dream of.

  This was not that kind of bookshop.

  This place looked like it had been stocked by a passing tornado and shelved by an angry pigeon.

  I tried to get my bearings. I looked for anything which might point me in the direction of the classics section. I was a sci-fi and fantasy girl at heart, but whenever I was in a new bookshop, I bee-lined straight for the classics. You will either understand why or you won't.