Rain Village - Carolyn Turgeon [13]
Our feet crunched in the gravel as we passed the lumberyard. I was so proud. I’m not a freak, I wanted to say to everyone we passed. Look. I wished Geraldine could see me right then, see that I didn’t need her, or any of them.
“So what do you want to do when you grow up?” Mary asked, reaching down and flipping up a lock of my hair.
“I don’t know,” I mumbled, embarrassed.
“Oh, come on. Surely you must love something, right? Maybe dancing? I can see you as a dancer, something like that.” She spun around.
“I would like to work in the library someday, too,” I said. I looked at her shyly. It seemed like a bold thing to say, but she didn’t look surprised.
“You can do that now,” she said. “I was thinking maybe I could pay you a bit to stay in the afternoons. You can help me sort the books, keep up with the paperwork. You can look after the desk while I’m talking to the folks who come in wanting fortunes and spells.” She opened her eyes wide and made a witchy face as we stepped into the street that led to the square.
I laughed. “Can you really tell fortunes?”
“I can see that you’re about to get chased!” She shrieked and howled and I ran right into the center of the square. We collapsed on the ground, under one of the huge oaks that shaded the little park. From there, if you craned your head around in a circle, you could see every shop and restaurant and bar in Oakley, lining the square. In the distance you could see the green of the hills, the cut-up lines of the fields and crops.
“Can you see my fortune?”
“You,” she said, “will be something special. I can see that much. Does that make me a witch?” She tapped my nose, then pushed herself up into a sitting position.
I just lay there on the grass, staring at the sky, then at the people rushing past on the roads surrounding us.
“Look.” I pointed. I saw Mrs. Adams hurrying along with a bag of supplies.
Mary looked over, shielding her face with her hands. She nodded casually, then lay back down on the grass.
I glanced at Mary, surprised. “But don’t you want to talk to Mrs. Adams, see how it went? Yesterday she was so sad.”
“I never talk to people like her outside the library.”
“Why not?”
She smiled and shook her head at me, sitting up again. “Watch,” she said. “Meg!” She waved her hands. Mrs. Adams glanced back and then practically ran into the grocer’s that bordered the south side of the square.
My mouth dropped open. Mary shrugged, laughed at my surprise. “They’re all like that. Ashamed. What are you going to do? Take their money and let them get on with their lives.”
“Was it different in the circus?” I asked.
“Different? It was another world! One day you’ll see for yourself. You’ll go there and everyone will look at you and see the same thing I do, a gorgeous and amazing little girl. You’ll know that I wasn’t just some maniac. Now, are you going to be my official librarian’s assistant or not?”
“Yes,” I said. “Yes, yes!”
“Okay, listen up: I need some paper and some more pens. Why don’t you go to the stationer’s, then meet me at the post office.”
She handed me a couple of bills, winked, and walked off. I stood for a moment looking after her. Mary seemed so bright and out of place in the midst of the Oakley town square. When she reached the street, she turned around and waved.
“Don’t just stand there like a bump on a log!” she yelled, laughing at me and all lit up by the sun, and I dashed off, my cheeks burning.
It seems ridiculous now, but I felt, for the first time, grown up as I entered the store. The bells rang as the door swung shut behind me, and I was hit with the sharp scents of ink and fresh paper. I walked nervously into the aisle, toward notepads full of creamy, lined sheets. I picked up a couple, then set them down, trying to remember what kind of paper I’d seen at the library. I thought