IT'S - Chapter 3

"Books Do Furnish a Mind" (Emily Breed)

Something was wrong. Evelyn wasn't sure what, but something was definitely wrong. First, she'd gotten the letter from Danny. What he wrote sounded incredible. Voices from his closet correcting his English? It sounded like something only Danny could have invented.

His tone was more serious later in the letter, when he described his friends' gruesome deaths. Evelyn knew that part was true, as she'd seen an article about it in the Boulder newspaper. (Every afternoon, after school in Palo Alto let out, she read the newspapers from all the towns where members of The Winners Club(TM) lived. She probably knew more about their local news than they did. She wondered if Danny'd be interested in the Super-8 camera advertised in the back of the Boulder paper. Probably not -- if he was that depressed about wasting fifty cents on a ring, he probably didn't have the money to spare for a movie camera.)

A few days later, she'd gotten a letter from Angus. The paper was translucent and oily, and had a distinct odor of pepperoni. Strange things were happening to him, too -- and again, the local newspaper backed up the incredible story. At least, it said that his mother and half-sister had disappeared -- it didn't say anything about giant invisible bugs or demon-possessed Viking helmets. She refolded the Whiting Herald and went to replace it in the library's paper rack.

As she came around the end of the bookshelf nearest the paper rack, her heart sank. Her chief tormentor, Ross Mayfield, stood in front of the circulation desk with his cohort of goons, Toby and Chris. The "Terrible Three," she called them. (Actually, she called them the "Terrible Three". She punctuated differently when writing for school than she did when she wrote to the other members of The Winners Club(TM) or for herself.)

She could hear Miss Vickers, the librarian, chiding Ross for returning a book three weeks late and covered in mud. "Ross, it hasn't rained in months. How could it possibly have fallen in a mud puddle?"

Evelyn backed around the bookcase, hoping to be out of sight before they noticed her. Unfortunately, the Herald rustled, and the Three looked up and saw her. "I'm really sorry about the book, Miss Vickers," Ross said hurriedly, "I'll bring the money for the fine the next time I come in. Gotta go -- Bye!"

"That's a dollar-fifty, Ross," said Miss Vickers, as the Three hurried towards the bookcase that Evelyn had disappeared behind, "and remember, you can't check out any more books until you pay it!"

Evelyn hurried down the aisle past the rows of bookcases. She didn't want to lead the Three to her usual hiding place (a small alcove behind the political philosophy section). Instead, she ducked past the physical anthropology, slipped between two bookcases in cultural anthropology, and crouched to hide behind a rolling cart of books to be reshelved.

She tried to quiet her breathing, sure she could be heard all the way across the library, and listened carefully. There -- that clumping noise moving up the next aisle. That must be them. She listened intently to see which way the footsteps went -- so intently that she didn't notice Ross tiptoeing up behind her until it was too late.

"I want to talk to you," he said, his voice loud in the stillness of the library.

"Shhh!" Annoyed whispers came from several places in the library.

"Ross, is that you?" Miss Vickers' voice floated over the tops of the bookcases.

"Yes, it's me, Miss Vickers," he said. "Sorry, I'll be quieter."

"It is I," said a voice that didn't sound quite like Miss Vickers'. Evelyn wondered briefly if Miss Vickers was coming down with a cold.

"You didn't let me copy from you during the spelling test today," Ross said menacingly. "I got a D. My dad's gonna kill me for getting a D."

"I can't let you copy, Ross," said Evelyn. "It wouldn't be honest." Actually, she thought, I just don't like you. I'm glad you got a D. You would have gotten an F if I'd noticed earlier that you were looking at my paper.

"My dad's gonna kill me, so I'm gonna kill you. C'mere, guys," he said, a little louder. Toby and Chris came around the end of the row of bookcases.

"Aw, Ross, she's just a girl," said Toby. "You can't beat her up. She'll yell too much."

"Yeah, Ross," said Chris. "My dad said he'll ground me the next time he finds out I've gotten in trouble at school or here."

"She won't yell," said Ross with a smirk. "This is a library. She'd never yell in a library." He grabbed Evelyn's arm and twisted it up behind her back. He pulled her to her feet and pushed her up against a bookcase. "Are you going to let me copy the next time we have a test?" Evelyn gritted her teeth and shook her head. She wouldn't let them make her cry -- or yell, for that matter. He twisted her arm farther and pushed her against the bookcase harder. She could feel the edge of a book digging into her cheek. Out of the corner of her eye, she could read the title on the spine: The Gentle Art of Verbal Self-Defense, by Suzette Hadin Elgin. She wondered wryly if Dr. Elgin had ever had to deal with pre-adolescent Neanderthals like the Three.

"I think you're gonna let me copy," he said. "I think you're gonna let me do anything I want to."

"One does not end a sentence with a preposition," said a voice from behind them. Evelyn couldn't see who had spoken, but it sounded like Miss Vickers. "Also, 'gonna' is dialect, and not correct usage. 'Will' would be more appropriate in this situation."

Why was Miss Vickers correcting their grammar at a time like this? Why wasn't she doing something to help?

"Technically," started Evelyn, "'to' isn't a preposition in this case. It's part of the understood infini--."

"Hush, Child!"

"We're just playing, Miss Vickers," said Ross. "We'll go outside so we don't aggravate no one."

"'Aggravate' should be used only when there is a pre-existing condition that is being made worse. It does not mean 'annoy' and should not be used as if it did. And, as for your double negative--." Evelyn heard a swish and a crack that sounded like a whip.

Ross let go of her arm and spun around. "Hey!" he said indignantly. "You can't do that, Miss. . . . Uh."

Evelyn edged farther down the row of bookcases before she turned around, rubbing her arm. Ross, Chris, and Toby stood at the end of the aisle, looking less cocky than usual. Between them and Evelyn (and the only way out of the dead end formed by the bookcases) stood a small woman dressed in a tweed suit, her face painted clownishly, a red foam-rubber ball on the end of her nose.

"Lady, Halloween ain't till October," said Ross.

The woman sighed. "That is the last straw," she said sadly. "I had thought that you could be reformed, but your hooliganism -- " she gestured towards Evelyn "-- is matched only by your disregard for the Queen's English. You will not be much missed." She raised her arms above her head, seeming to grow larger. The bookshelves nearest the Three began to tremble, and books started to tumble from the top shelves.

An evil laugh arose from the tweedy woman. The boys fell to their knees as the literary avalanche continued. Evelyn didn't know where the books were coming from -- surely the shelves hadn't held that many books the last time she had looked at them. She buried her head in her arms in horror as the books continued to fall, crushing the boys. The noise was terrible. Surely it would attract someone's attention?

After what seemed like an eternity, the noise lessened and then stopped. Evelyn looked up.

The tweedy woman towered over a rough pyramid of books that rested where the Three had been standing. A rivulet of red oozed from below the pile of blood-soaked books. She cringed as the woman turned to face her, the rubber nose incongruously cheery on her evil visage.

"Miss Thistlebottom, at your service," she said, sweeping the polka-dotted hat from her head and bowing mockingly before Evelyn. "Devoted to instilling proper respect for the language and exterminating miscreants."

Evelyn could hear footsteps in the next aisle, and she shuddered, wondering what this creature would do to poor, sweet Miss Vickers. "I must be going now," said the clown. "We shall meet again, never fear." She plucked a paper flower from the crown of her hat and tossed it to Evelyn. Evelyn flinched, her eyes closing.

When she opened them again, Miss Vickers was bending over her. "Evelyn, dear, what happened? Did you trip on that loose edge of the carpet? I've been asking the maintenance staff to fix that for months. I just knew someone would get hurt. Here, let me help you put these books back on the shelf."

Evelyn closed her eyes, anticipating Miss Vickers' reaction when she saw what had happened. "Oh, dear," she said regretfully. Evelyn opened her eyes. That was not the reaction she had expected.

Miss Vickers stood before the pile of books, two blood-soaked volumes in her hand, blood dripping down her arms. "Look," she said, holding a book out to Evelyn. "The cover of I'm OK, You're OK got bent."

She clearly didn't notice the blood. "Are you all right, dear? You seem a bit faint. Would you like to lie down in the library office?"

"Uh, no, Miss Vickers, that's okay," said Evelyn, getting to her feet. "If it's okay, I'll just go home now."

"Yes, dear, you do that. I'll finish reshelving these books." Evelyn looked away and tried to fight back the nausea that threatened to overcome her. "See you after school on Monday!"

"Bye," said Evelyn. She collected her bookbag and hurried out of the library. Moments later, she was on her bicycle, pedaling madly for home. She had to find a way to get in touch with the other members of The Winners Club.

First I'll apologize for thinking they'd gone crazy, she thought. Then, I'll ask them what we should do. We've got to do --something--!

Table of Contents - Chapter 2 - Top of Page - Chapter 4 -
Off The Wall - Callahan's Saloon