The Library
May 2008
My life is not an ordinary one. In case you were wondering, my name is Claire Eckleston. My mother, Lisa Eckleston, became pregnant at seventeen years old. When I was born she convinced her mom to let her keep me. Unfortunately, the situation wasn’t that simple. Lisa’s mom never left her bed. She was constantly sleeping, and had her three daughters bring her food on the occasion that she woke. The shabby apartment was no place for a baby. But Lisa tried. Lisa loved me, and she wanted to keep me. For three years and nine months she gave her life and soul to me. She dropped out of high school and took night shifts at restaurants. On my third birthday, as we shared cupcakes, a knock came from the door. I was removed from my mother’s care, to put it lightly. Never will I forget Lisa’s face as I walked away from her, looking back to see my mother for the last time.
“I love my baby!” She sobbed.At that young age I didn’t understand what was happening. When I first met my Nicole, she cut off all but 8 inches of my golden hair, and it grew back brown and stick-straight. Nicole’s husband, Michel, doesn’t like kids. He acts as if I am not even there, but I live with it. When I turned ten I was given a letter written by Lisa. It included the details of my birth and toddler life. From that letter I learned everything I know about my true mother. Nicole has nicknamed her ‘that woman’. A name I have come to despise. My mom was not a bad woman, but Nicole would never understand the connection we had felt. At ten, when I read that letter, I vowed that someday, whatever it took, I would find Lisa Eckleston.
When I first began school at Coverton Elementary, I had no friends. Once in a while I saw my neighbor, James, in his yard, but I didn’t count him as a friend…yet. Being neighbors, and three blocks from school, we both walked the same route twice a day. Week after week, I walked, watching him as we traveled to and from school. Finally, in the front yard, Nicole told me it wasn’t safe to be walking alone for ‘so many’ blocks. At that moment, James walked by. Being young and foolish he yelled to her, “I’ll walk with her!” And it was done. At first I resented him, he was a useless chaperone, but over time we realized how much we had in common. All through elementary school we were best friends. Now, in seventh grade, we still walk the three blocks from home to school together.
In Coverton, nothing much happens. Sure, we’ve had our share of natural disasters, 1800’s history, and reckless teenagers, but the excitement hardly strays beyond a new store or resident. Unfortunately, James and I had the unpleasant assignment of writing a two-page essay on Coverton’s history. (Courtesy of Mrs. Bradley, Social Studies.) Which is why, on a bright, sunny Saturday, we were in section A – C of Coverton library.
“Ugh! This is perpetuous!” Exclaimed James, throwing aside yet another book of class A boring.
“I would totally agree, if only I knew what perpetuous meant.” I replied smugly.
“Permanent, never ending.”
“Oh.” I shrugged. James and I both took advanced classes, but while I struggled for my 4.0 GPA, he easily maintained his straight ‘A+’ s. (Once he told me that he reads the dictionary in language arts, but I’ll never tell.)
“So, Mr. I’m-so-much-smarter-than-Claire, have you found anything?”
“Nope.”
I turned back to the shelves, scanning the endless rows of books. Kneeling now, I noticed a small blue book, no bigger than a slice of bread, lying behind the row. Curious, I picked it up. At my touch, I felt the pages begin to whisper. I could hear the voices, but as I strained to hear they fell away. As I opened the worn blue cover, I suddenly felt the overwhelming power of something bigger than me. It was like lying on your back in the middle of an endless field, staring up at the star-brushed sky. You think to yourself, There are so many stars! You begin to count, but soon realize it is impossible, this is a thing that cannot be counted or measured. So there you lie, and you feel the overwhelming power that the sky is something so much bigger than yourself, that not even a word can contain. That is what I felt, when I opened that book.
On the first page of that book there were three faded words which I could barley make out. They read:
Who
When
Where
“James!” I called, “I think I found something!”
As I handed James the book I watched his face to see if he had the same reaction I did. If he did he concealed it well. But as he turned the cover to reveal those three words a gasp escaped his gaping mouth.
“Claire, those words, I mean, I’ve seen them. Follow me! Don’t leave the book!” He said, speaking faster than I could understand. Either way, it was hardly everyday that James got this worked up about anything.
I caught up with him as he sat down in front of a library computer.
“James,” I hissed. “What are you doing? What’s the big deal?”
“Those words.” He muttered. Every once in a while James ‘feels’ words. It is kind of like being were a soccer star, and sitting on a bench in front of a soccer ball. It calls kick me! Kick me! You squint your eyes, you try to ignore it, but finally, you give in, and kick the ball. It feels good, it feels… right.
Finally, James left the computer and returned to me. (I was sitting by a window, counting cars. ((weird I know, but I was bored.)))
“Claire-” He began.
“James.” I interrupted.
His eyes were like daggers, shutting me up.
“Who, when, and where all pose a question.”
“I’m following you.”
“That book either holds answers or questions.”
“And…?”
“I’m not sure, but there’s only one way we can find out.”
Pulling the book from my pocket, I heisitated, I felt like I was trespassing. Just a peek. I told myself. Just a peek.
Once again I felt that strange sensation. Turning to page two, James and I were both surprised. It was blank. Barren. Unmarked. I felt disappointed.
“Try page three.” Whispered James. I turned the page. It was empty.
I waited a moment. The tension in the air was like a thick fog. I opened my mouth, but closed it quickly.
“I’m sorry.” I said to James. (Or to the book.) “Sorry.”
James stood, I saw him wipe a tear from his eye. He really felt that strongly for words. To him, it was such a let down. Such powerful words, leading to… emptiness? It didn’t feel right. I was going to find out more.
I smiled as Lucy wrapped herself around my legs, her laugh was contagious and cheered my spirits greatly. James and I had agreed that I would take the book home and we would talk tomorrow. Stupidly, I had put it in my backpack as I left to babysit my five and three year old neighbors. So now, I stood with five year old, curly haired, Lucy hugging my knee with all the force she could muster.
“Hey Lucy! Where’s Anne?” I asked, shaking my legs.
Lucy stood. “In her room.”
“I’ll be right back.” I walked down the hall and entered the three-year-old’s room, although it could be more accurately compared to a cave. Piles of clothes heaped the floor like bones in a monster’s lair. In her crib lay Anne. She was wearing only a shirt from the waist down, the sleeves hanging limply by her side.
The moment she saw me she screamed, “Claire! Claire! I’m a mermaid!”
I smiled despite myself. “Wow Anne! I had no idea.”
She giggled. “Say mermaid.”
“Mermaid.”
“No!!! Say Anne!”
“Anne!”
“Claire no!!!”
I turned to see Lucy standing in the door, a shirt around her legs also.
“I’m a mermaid too.” She said
I gulped. I seriously hope I don’t have to put my shirt around my legs.
For Lucy’s sake I giggled and showed Anne.
“So, what do you want to do?” I turned to the doorway, but Lucy was no longer standing there. “Um… Anne lets go find Lucy.”
The chubby three-year-old made a face. “No. Mermaids need water.” I rolled my eyes. There is no water in the crib! “Why don’t you take off your mermaid tail?”
Anne shook her head and began jumping up and down. From the hallway I heard a scream.
“Anne stay here.” The hallway was empty. My pace increased as I approached the living room, finding it empty, my thoughts began to stray to the book in my backpack. Put one with two! Seriously, the book’s mysterious, child mysteriously disappears, it’s so obvious.
“Claire?”
I spun around. Lucy was standing in the doorway to her room, a swimsuit replacing her ‘mermaid’ tail. I sighed in relief. Deep breaths, deep breaths. I wanted to run and give the smiling five-year-old a hug. The minute and a half I had spent freaking out had totally worn me out, not to mention the fact that my heart was beating like I had just run a mile.
“Why’d you scream?” I finally asked.
Lucy laughed. “My favorite kini wasn’t there.”
Oh my god…
“So… what do you want to do?” I said with false cheer.
“Dunno. Ask Anne.”
I started to walk towards Anne’s room, but turned quickly, grabbing Lucy’s hand.
“Why don’t we both go?”
“Okay!”
Anne, still wearing her ‘mermaid’ tail, was still sitting in her crib. As I entered her room she lifted her arms and howled loudly.
“Up! Up!”
She grabbed my thumbs as I lifted the chubby child onto the floor. She had obviously forgotten how mermaids aren’t supposed to leave the ‘water’.
“What do you want to do Anne?” Lucy asked.
“A glabey!” Garbled Anne.
“She wants to run in the sprinklers.” Said Lucy matter-o-factly.
Knowing I had virtually no choice, I agreed.
