Brenn Says: Don't Date A Genie

So Dusty!

The library is my sole refuge is this torture chamber they call a school. Nothing ever goes wrong here. No surprises. No embarrassing catastrophes. Things are predictable and relaxing. The most exciting thing that happens here happens inside the minds of the readers, and I'm okay with that.
The doctor told my mom he's concerned with my LACK OF ABILITY TO COPE.
"We need to find something to help you," he said to me.
"Books," I replied.
"Yes, Brenn. Books are good, but we need something else. Something that will calm you down."
"Books."
"Okay, I understand you like books, but what I'm trying to get at is something you can DO when you're feeling anxious."
"Reading."
"I don't think you're understanding, Brenn. It should be something that empowers you to deal with the situation that's giving you anxiety."
"Reading books."
We didn't get very far with that session. He told mom I was being DIFFICULT. I told her I was being honest, and that honestly, he's not a very good doctor if he doesn't see how books help me relax.
That's why I'm going to LOVE this week of volunteering. It'll be my own special kind of therapy from all the anxiety that Jessica, Leticia, and Tommy give me.
"These are the books!" says Mr. Blume, rolling out a dolly with several brown boxes on it. "There's another load in the supply room. Some old lady donated these. Claims they were gifts from her grandfather, who traveled around the world finding these for her."
"And she's giving these to us?"
"She has no children. No grandchildren. She says she wants the school-kids to have 'em. Anyway, most of them are probably old and tattered. If they're falling apart, just throw them out. Keep the ones that look like they can still take a beating or two. I'll go over those later and make sure they're okay for our library."
"Can do!"
I find a little corner to work in, between the snack machines and the current event magazines. I begin to pull the books out and stack them on the reading tables, immediately tossing to the side the ones that fall apart as I pick them up.
"You guys are the good ones," I tell them. "Clearly, you were handled quite often. Now you can rest in peace, knowing you lived good and purposeful lives."
The books that are in great condition - yes there are a few - I put on a separate table.
"You guys are resilient," I tell them. "The Doc says I have to learn to be more resilient. Kudos to you!"
That leaves me with the books I have to carefully handle and consider. They're the ones with the bent corners and scratched up spines, and dry, yellow pages. I figure I have to look at each one individually and decide if which pile it's going into.
"You guys are the reason I'm here," I tell them. "You're interesting enough to have been read a few times, but you're also built to last. Like every good book should be."
this is Heaven. Me. The books. No more people. No doctor. Nothing can go wrong.
It takes me most of the first hour to just separate half of them, simply because they're all so dusty, and it's hard to tell at a glance which pile they belong in.
"Start wrapping up for today!" says Mr. Blume. "Just roll whatever's left into the supply room and you can continue tomorrow morning."
"Sounds good!"
I stack the last box into the dolly, then put the books I haven't looked at next to the box. I begin to push the dolly and it wobbles a bit, causing one book to fall away from the others.
"Come here, You," I say, picking it up. The cover is filthy. There's a dust blanket so think I can't make out the title. I brush off some of the dust from the top of the cover, and a shimmery surface begins to shine through, but no title.
"I've never seen a shimmery book. You must be REAL special."
I try to open the cover but it's stuck. I try to open the book at a random page in the middle but that's stuck too.
"All the pages are stuck!"
I look at the cover again and begin to rub furiously with my sleeve, uncovering more and more of the shimmery surface, and creating a monstrous dust-cloud all around me.
ACHOO!!!
The dust is crusted on here, but I have to see this cover. I rub and rub and the crust crumbles and turns to dust around me.
ACHOO!!!
I start to see something right in the middle of the cover. It's a letter.
No. Not a letter.
It's a symbol!

جن

The loud hum of the air conditioning system turning on breaks the silence and the dust picks up and begins to swirl the cool air blows my way.
ACHOO!!!
ACHOO!!!
A-A-ACHOOOO!!!
I drop the book and break into an uncontrollable sneezing fit.
"You okay?" Mr. Blume says from somewhere on the other side of the library, but I can't catch a break from the sneezing to answer him.
My eyes are watery. They open and shut as I sneeze, again and again, each time more violently. There's dust everywhere and I stumble backward and trip over one of the boxes.
My head hits something hard and the lights go out.
#
"Hey," says a voice.
It's a warm voice.
A boy.
I open my eyes and everything is spinning around me. The light is bright. The dust that was swirling around me is now...
"Sparkling?"
"Hey," says the boy again. "You okay?"
"Yeah, I just-" I rub my eyes and look around. I don't see a boy.
"You hit yourself pretty hard," he says, only I don't know where HE is.
I sit up and look around. My head bursts into pain and I reach back to find a golfball-sized bump just a few inches above my neck.
"Where are you?" I look from side to side.
"Right here," he says. I look this way and that but don't see anyone. Either Jessica got one of her friends to play a ridiculously elaborate prank on me, or I finally lost my mind and my mom is from now on justified in taking me to the doctor.
"Ha. Ha. Real funny," I say, standing up. "Joke landed. You can come out now."
"I can't," he says. "You have to wish me out."
"Wish you out?" I laugh, then I see it. His shadow. Just around the bookshelf. I bend down and see his leg. He's one of Tommy's buddies for sure. The second I walk around that bookshelf, he's going to shoot me with another spit-wad or something like that. Well, not this time.
"So how do I wish you out?" I ask, then I grab the dusty old book in both hands and get it ready.
"You just have to say my name," he says as I sneak around the backside of the bookshelf. As I sneak a quick peek I can see, his arm holding something. I bet he's planning on hitting me with it.
"And what's your name?" I ask, and before I give him a chance to answer, I jump out and smack him as hard as I can on the back of the head with the old book.
"Ow!!!" he cries, but that's not the voice I was hearing. This is Mr. Blume and his face is red as he turns around to look at me. He's holding his coffee which is now spilled all over his sleeve and clipboard. He is fuming at the ears.
"What's the meaning of this?!" he yells, rubbing his head.
"Yeah," says the boy, "That hurt!"
"What?!" I cry out. "Where are you??"

"I'm right here, Miss Daben, and I'd like an explanation!"

Mr. Blume stares me down and I want to look remorseful, but I'm far too busy trying to find Tommy's friend. 

"You can't hide from me!" I spin around and run back around the bookshelf. "The Library is my turf!"

"Excuse me?" says Mr. Blume.

"No, you're good," I say, not paying him much mind. "You can go. I got this."

"Got what, Miss Daben?" he says, then he huffs and begins to march off. "This better not happen again or I'll find myself another assistant!"

I hear him. I do. I'm sure I came off as totally rude, but I can be a little obsessive. It's called hyperfocus. The doctor says I do it from time to time. Mom says I do it a lot when people try to have normal conversations with me and all I want to talk about is cats. But like. How could anyone not want to talk about cats. Cats are awesome. 

"Are you going to wish me free?" says the boy, "Or should I just go back to sleep?"

I've looked everywhere and I can't find him. His voice seems to come from around the corner, no matter where I go. 

"Please stop bothering me," I say. "You had your fun. You can run off to Jessica or Tommy and tell them you got me in trouble with Mr. Blume. I'm sure they'll love that. 

"Who are they?" he says as I turn around and look at the glass window that separates the library from the 6th grade hall. In the reflection, I see him standing behind me. A tall, blue-eyed boy with dark hair and dark skin. His eyes meet mine and he smiles. 

"Hi!" he says. 

I spin around and swing the book, trying to hit him, but no one is there. I'm breathing hard, looking all around but there's no sign of him. Then I look at the reflection again and there he is. Smiling. 

"How are you doing that?!" I say, holding the book ready to hit him. 

"You don't get it, do you," he says. "I'm not a part of your world. Yet, that is. I'm in the book. Trapped. But you can get me out. You just have to wish me into your world."