A Book Nerd's Guide to Falling in Love

Chapter 6: That Dimpled Smile

I read Atomic Habits by James Clear during the summer break. It was one of those non-fiction books in the bookstore's must-read section that urged people to buy it because it was supposed to be helpful. I found most of those books were only full of crap, marketed that way to make money. But Atomic Habits was different. I thought it could really make some changes and improvements in me. I had not tried any of the practices suggested yet, I was planning to, but I learned from Mr. Clear it took more than two months to build a habit.

For most people, two months was a long time. At first, I thought the same, but then I looked back on the current habits I already had. I couldn't even remember how long it took to build those because time flew by so fast.

And what about school?

Mr. Clear talked about identity in his book. He said that habits became our identity. So, I felt like school was my identity, my soul, my destiny--something I would never get away from. I had been going to school for not just two month but for maybe seventy-five percent of my life.

Most students, I was sure, felt the same. So school became automatic.

The next day went by fast. I hadn't even thought about my routine--go to school, chat with Lotty in the hallway, enter the first three classes in the morning, eat lunch, chat with Lotty, enter another three classes in the afternoon. School was a stack of habits that consumed most of my time.

It was a little disappointing to think that school, or student, was my identity. But at the end of each day, I had something else. I knew I wasn't only one thing.

At the end of each day, I had books. Was it weird to say I was books? Books were my identity. I was a reader. I was a book nerd and proud of it. It was better than labeling myself as a half-Filipino, half-American.

So, when the bell rang, marking the end of my last period, I rushed out of class without letting Lotty know where I was heading.

I went straight to the library--an automatic thing. I visited Pollyanna and Littleton's Public Library at least twice a week.

I silently thanked Mr. Clear for letting me know my second identity, like I was living two lives, incomparable to Superman or Hannah Montana but still.

I walked the same route and made my habit of staring at the library's facade and saying hello to Pollyanna before entering the building.

"Hello, Alice," Ms. Clark looked up from a book she was reading at her desk.

A smile curved my lips as I realized the librarian's habit was to greet everyone who entered through the door with a gleeful and sing-songy welcome. "Hey, Ms. Clark," I said, walking past the desk.

"Do you need help with anything?" Ms. Clark asked.

"No, I can manage. Thanks!" I glanced over my shoulder as I continued to the fiction section, past the reading areas where three rows of tables were set.

I walked between the shelves, breathing in the aged paper scent and smoothing the tips of my fingers over the book spines as I passed them. I made my way to the middle-grade section, where I first found a copy of Bannicula by Deborah and James Howe. It was a series of novels about a vampire rabbit who loved to suck the juice out of vegetables. The first book in the series was the only one I had read before moving on to other beloved stories. But the whole series was still on a low shelf, perfect for small teens' reach.

"I wish I could do something," I whispered to the bunny, standing there momentarily as if I was mourning. The painful part of losing the library came mostly from my identity. Though no on else could see, the Public Library was a part of me.