As I entered the old bookstore, the smell of dust and books peppered with the soft glow from the lamps greeted me. An old fashioned bell chimed and, in response, an elderly lady stepped out behind the shelves of overflowing books and smiled.
"Hi there! What can I help you with?" she asks in a creaky voice.
"I'm just looking around, thank you," I smile and turn to the bookshelves.
I wander aimlessly through the dust covered shelves, all the way to the back of the room.
The floor was covered in books, scattered around like a hurricane. I kneel down, in an attempt to reorganize them. Earth and Space and A Wrinkle in Time all seemed like interesting books to read, so I created a pile for myself. Standing up, the wooden floor groaning in age, I glance down to spot the corner of another book hardly sticking out from under a bookshelf. I walk over and pick it up. No, not a book, it was a leathery, maroon colored journal, filled with empty yellow-edged pages. Something about the velvety feel of the journal in my hands, the crisp golden pages, flipping through my fingers, kept me so mesmerized, so captivated; it held me spellbound.
Interesting. New here? Hmm... no friends yet; that's quite the pity. I sugg—
I let out a startled yelp, dropping the journal in surprise and frantically crawl away, letting up a puff of dust. I turned around, but there was nobody around me. That voice—where did it come from? It was a whispery voice. How did it know all of that about me? I shake myself, I probably just imagined it. I take a few breaths to calm myself and then walk back to pick it up; I was not leaving such a good find behind. I pick up the journal, and I hear the smoothly delicate, papery voice whispering in my ear.
Hmph! How rude! You're trying to get away from me when I'm trying to help you! I know what you need though you don't know it yet yourself.
Confused, I let out a frustrated sigh; I don't need anything!
Yes, you do. I see all, I know all. You don't believe me? Well then, let's see. Behind you is a book titled "Poison Ivy". Am I not right?
I whirled around and spotted a book: Poison Ivy. I inhale sharply, whistling quietly. So, either I had lost my mind or I found a magical journal.
The bell rang again. I looked up and saw a girl my age with wavy, brown hair cascading down her shoulders walking towards me.
"Ugh, where is it, where is it?" she mumbles, sifting through the stack of books on the floor, destroying my pile.
Help her. Help her!
I ignore the voice, staring down continuously at the journal.
‘Scuse me, young lady, I know you can hear me. HELP HER!
Exhaling sharply, I ask, "Are you looking for something?"
She glances at me, and her dark brown eyes fixate on the journal in my hands.
"Yes, that journal is mine. I forgot it here yesterday," she says smiling.
"Oh, okay, sorry," I said reluctantly, handing it back to her.
"Interesting journal," I add, searching her face for an expression. She tilts her head, studying me, "I haven't seen you around."
"I moved here last week."
"Me too, last month. I'm so happy to see someone new like me. I'm Summer."
"I'm Mira."
"Do you have friends here?" she asks, eyes wide with curiosity and something else I couldn't quite place.
"No..." I say sadly. I look up to see her eyes shining with relief, a second before she tries to cover it.
"It's been hard. I miss my friends, classmates, everybody..." Summer says her eyes wandering past me, into a different world.
"I know what you mean. I feel so alone and..."
All of the cold loneliness I had previously been trying to escape came back, a storm rising, throwing shards of ice. I sink down to the floor, the palms of my hands on my eyes. I feel Summer's arm on my back gently lifting me. Silently, she guides me out of the bookstore, and to a small bench in a small, grassy, secluded area, full of trees and wildlife. As we sit quietly listening to the wood thrush singing, a beam of sunlight shines through the gray clouds. I tilt my head up to catch it, filling my mind with a deep serenity.
Summer says wonderingly, "It seems this journal is a lucky one. I lost it to find a new friend."
My job here is done.
As the voice ceases, Summer smiles, a smile with a million meanings, and I know she also heard the voice. She opens the journal to the first page, angling it at me. A word is written on the page, and I grin at Summer. Friendship.