Hey, Haru! What are you reading?

I can't hear anything you're saying.


Two stories high was the library, something I hadn’t yet seen. It was the school’s very own thumbprint-cookie, with the wing curled around it, and it was so sweet and I hated to go there.

Two years ago things were very different. But two years ago, my brain-worms hadn’t gone through the strainer yet. Two years ago, I didn’t have to look up from my barn-burning book, and I could get lost if I wanted. Now I can’t go anywhere.

Last time I went there, I found a scarf in the upper hallways. You see, they have so many windows in the library, but none of them go outside--it’s all to the upper rooms, so you can see down. But it’s hard to crane your neck to look back up. So if you brought your Game Boy and hid it in your coat pocket you wouldn’t just get bullied but somebody would snitch, too, if you were really unlucky. And it would be a zoo if we were doing anything interesting but cutting class with half an excuse.

But the scarf was purple, and that was weird. And besides, that thing needed a bath so bad, you could’ve told me someone wrapped a whole rotting arm in it and I’d believe you. I just couldn’t help but find the big leak can and dump it in, because surely ceiling water would smell a little better than that, at least. It was so long, it’s just a wonder it didn’t soak up all the water, and the can was as big as me. I never learned how to swim.

Not even a year ago You've been warned 3 times that this file does not exist. Now you've made us catch this worthless exception and we're upset. Do not do this again.

I left a scarf in the police box a few blocks from here, after carrying it in my arms like a baby all day--its torn ends all melted into each other because they were so wet, and everything stuck. And now, I think it’s funny, because there could’ve been a .45 or a pair of girls’ shoes in there. I could’ve gone up to the roof, and nobody’d say anything.

Sometimes, I wish I’d kept that scarf. I wish the boy who held it had no choice but to show his face to me. Mostly, I wish that they’d never put windows up there. Maybe then, he never would have stared at me. Maybe then, I wouldn’t be here.


I can hear what your soul is saying.