The first few days Arabella spent in the house were remarkably boring. She cleaned the entire house from the top to the bottom, until the hardwood floors shone. She filled the fridge and cabinets with only food she liked, listened to music as loud as she wanted, and smoked as many cigarettes as her little heart desired. After three days, she was ready to go back to the city with people around her.
         In her solitude, she filled three notebooks and wrote five more chapters on her book. Eventually, her creative juices ran out and she knew she had to get out of the house. If she didn’t interact with another human being, she wouldn’t have any ideas left to write about.
         At least when Arabella was younger, she felt like there was something remotely entertaining to do. She found her old bike in the garage, and even though she hadn’t used it since she was twelve, she was still basically child sized, and it worked perfectly.
The pavement was cracked in places from years of neglect and piles of sand spotted the road. The sky was grey and covered in an overcast that seemed to promise rain all day.
         The two-minute drive meant a ten-minute bike ride until Arabella was in town. Other than the beach, the few stores that lined the main street were the only places of something remotely close to fun. The grocery store, library, record store and post office were opposite a diner, bike store and Italian restaurant.
         Arabella had quite a few books at the beach house, but they had all been read and reread a dozen times. All the ones back in New York didn’t make the cut into the few things she packed for the summer. At least the library was still there, and her plan to get a library card was still in the books.
         All of the stores used to be houses, and the library was the biggest one on the street. A yellow two story Victorian with a wrap around porch with plenty of Adirondack chairs. Inside, it was just as she remembered from her childhood. Dozens of tiny rooms filled the house, each a different section. Children’s books, non-fiction, biographies, anything you wanted. Red carpet worn down and stained from years of abuse ran through every room. The walls were all completely covered in dark bookshelves bursting with books old and new, short and long. The smell of old books felt like home to Arabella.
         One room near the front had a huge desk that came up to Arabella’s chest, where the librarian usually sat, but all she saw was an empty swivel chair. She walked through a few rooms, all empty, waving around like she was walking through a maze of books. As she walked into the science fiction room, she finally found another person, standing with their back to her. He was extremely tall and lanky with long legs, with dark, messy curls piled on top of his head. She cleared her throat quietly to not scare him. Apparently it didn’t work, because he almost jumped up as he whipped his head around. Thick glasses magnified two piercing turquoise eyes, wide with surprise. He sighed and let out a nervous laugh.
         “Damn, you scared me,” he said, his voice surprisingly low.
         “Uh, sorry,” Arabella twisted the ring in her nose. “Do you work here?”
         “Sure do. Can I help you?” the guy asked, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose with the ring finger on his left hand. Arabella figured he was about the same age as her, maybe a little older.
         “Yeah, I want to get a library card.” He smiled at her and nodded, his head, returning the book he was holding to the empty slot on the shelf above him. Arabella wouldn’t even be able to reach it on her tiptoes and he did it with no problem.
         “Great, great. Library card. Ace,” He nodded his head and brushed past Arabella and out the doorway behind her. “You’re new around here, aren’t you?” he said as he walked in and out of rooms, not pausing to make sure she was following him. She had to walk twice as fast to keep up.
         “Uh, kind of. Not really. It’s complicated,” She paused for a second. “How do you know?” To that, the boy snorted lightly without slowing down.
         “There’s not even a thousand people in this town. Everyone knows everyone around here. And you’re definitely not from around here,” he spoke quickly, with emphasis on the definitely. Arabella scoffed.
         “Is that an insult?” He abruptly stopped and turned around, looking down at Arabella as she almost bumped into him.
         “Did it sound like one?” He stayed there for a minute, smiling down at Arabella, then turned around and kept walking just as quickly as he had stopped. Even more confused than before, Arabella just kept her mouth shut and hoped he would do the same.
         They eventually made it back to the front desk, where the tall boy sat at the chair and pulled out a huge book, flipping through pages and stopped somewhere towards the end.
         “Name?” he asked without looking up from the book, pen in hand.
         “Uh, Arabella. Black.” He muttered her name under his breath and he wrote it down in messy scrawl.
         “Address?” She gave it to him, then her home phone, and he did the same, muttering what she said and writing it down. He pulled out a small business card sized piece of paper with a bar code and some numbers on one side, and the library logo on the other. He wrote Arabella Black in all caps on the logo side and held it out to her.
         “This is your temporary card. We have to send it out to get the real one, so it should come in the mail in 8-10 business days. For now, you can check out six books at a time with that,” he motioned to the paper in her hand. “Most books are two weeks, and each renewal lasts for-”
         “I know how a God damn library works,” Arabella spat out, sick of his blabbering. He looked hurt for a second, but it didn’t last long.
         “Lasts for another two weeks. Knock yourself out.” He gave her a sarcastic smile, then turned around in the chair. Arabella rolled her eyes and walked out of the reception room and upstairs.
         Eventually, she picked out a memoir, a poetry collection, a biography of some French revolutionist, two new novels and Hamlet. When she made her way back to the big desk, she didn’t have to go searching for the boy; he was still at the chair, his eyes glued to what looked like a textbook. She dropped her books on his book and gave him a sour grin.
         “I’m ready to check out.”
         “Wonderful.” He checked out the books without saying anything, his eyes glued to his work. Arabella thought how strange his eyes were. It was like they belonged to another person, someone without dark skin and black hair. She wondered what his parents looked like. Or siblings. What the hell, what are you thinking about his family for? Arabella thought, shaking her head lightly.
         “Interesting selection,” the boy said, his eyebrows raised as he looked down at the worn Shakespeare.
         “Is that any of your business?” Her words were dipped in acid. He picked his head up and looked at her, shock on his face.
         “Ouch.” He shook his head and stacked the last book on top.
         “Just give me the books.” He picked up the stack and held it towards her, looking at her like he was waiting for something. Arabella sighed and rolled her eyes. “Please?” she said, not masking the annoyance. When he finally gave her the books, she turned around.
         “See you later, Freckles.”
Arabella whipped her head around and gave him a death glare. “Don’t call me that.”
         “Alright, sorry Snow Queen.”
         Without another word, Arabella stormed out of the library, wondering why she felt so strange.