Academics and Dust

     Meka scratched out a few more lines of text. The essay was about her school's library; mostly about how it was falling into disrepair.

     The ancient room that was titled "Libera Tomme" in fancy script above the double doors sat in a wing of the school all its own. The walls were covered in bookshelves and there were bookshelves from floor to ceiling all throughout the room. There were filing cabinets with ancient editions of the Neopian Times (and even some more rural newspapers, like The Fog Creek Journal and Naleap-Watchers Bimonthly View of the World). The floor was bare wood, and very cold in winter.

     The library had been arranged according to the Dewey Decimal System, but no longer adhered to those rules and regulations. Books that were returned were placed, by the person who had borrowed it, randomly on a shelf. There was no longer a librarian at the front desk, and the cleaning lady never entered the room if she could avoid it. New books were never bought for it, and disintegrating books were never removed.

     Meka felt, in her heart of hearts, that this was a hideous way to keep a library, and intended to say something about it, but hated speaking up. When her English Teacher gave them an assignment to write "a powerful essay on a subject you feel strongly about," she saw her chance to protest peacefully.

     But she could not properly express herself. She read books at lightning speed, and retained nearly all the knowledge she found in them, but writing out her innermost feelings was hard. Harder than she had originally expected.

     Meka left her desk and leaned out the window. Key, her Korbat sister, was working industriously in her garden, and the whole of Roo Island's buzzer population seemed to be happily humming around, pollinating the flowers.

     "Key!" she shouted. Her sister looked up from under her big-brimmed hat.

     "What?" Key shouted back.

     "I'm having trouble writing my essay!" Meka said, and felt very silly for saying it.

     Key wiped some ectoplasm sweat off her brow and squinted through the sun at Meka. "Why don't you go to the library and work there? It'd be easier to write about it if you can look directly at it."

     Meka's large Mynci eyes blinked and grew wide. Why hadn't she thought of that?

     "Thank you!" she shouted, popped back inside of her room, and ran down the stairs, taking the final five in one leap.

     "Mom, I'm going to the school library! Be back before dinner!" she shouted in the general direction of the kitchen.

     "Okay, but–" began Kale, but Meka heard nothing more of what her mother said. She had grabbed her backpack off the floor, and had left the house.

     — — — — — — — —

     Meka took a Roo Island Ferry to Brightvale, then ran through the cobblestone streets until she reached her school: North Brightvale High.

     It was a proud old building, with beautiful stained glass windows and elegant architecture. She slipped inside and made her way to the library's special wing.

     When she entered the library she sneezed instantly, seven times, and her eyes watered heavily. The dust always got to her, and she had forgotten to grab her dust mask from her room before she left.

     She sat down at a rickety studying table, sheltering her face with her cardigan, trying not to inhale too much dust. There was no one else in the room (she didn't blame them) and she would have perfect solitude to write in.

     She opened her notebook and started over again. Some how, magically almost, the words came and sounded much better. It was easier to explain the abandoned majesty of the library when you were actually there.

     She read a little bit out loud to the room, hoping it would be comforted that someone cared: "It needs only love, it asks only care; to have its books cared for and be replaced when they fall apart; to be dusted on a regular basis, and to be truly loved. Students themselves should come and fix it up, and they could put this dear old keeper of books back on his feet, and let him live once more."

     The room made no noise, but she swore she could see it smile. Meka bent back over her notebook and let her pen fly. She'd better get an A+ for this one...

    — — — — — — — —

     Her English Teacher loved the essay. From the title, to the closing words. But of course her English teacher would love it; she was a former librarian and acted as if books were people.

     But then her English Teacher showed the essay to her History Teacher who agreed it was a good essay. Then it moved on to the Math Teacher, who said it was superb, then it found its way in Principal Leo's office, and he said it was brilliant.

     They all agreed Meka should read it out loud in front of the student body. Meka disagreed strongly.

     She sat on a bench in her sister's garden sobbing into her knees. She didn't want to get up and speak in front of those thousands of students! It would be horrible!

     Key passed by her, carrying a watering can. "What's wrong, pint cup?" Her sister liked to give her pet names that pointed out how small Meka was. They were better than the ones that pointed out other things, at least.

     "The teachers want me to read this essay out loud to the school. I don't want to, but they think it'd help get the old library, and I want to help the library, but I don't want to speak in front of everyone!" she sobbed, barely taking breaths. Key took the essay from her hands and looked it over.

     "It's a good essay," she said.

     "But I don't want to read it!" Meka sobbed.

     "How about you get someone else to read it?"

     "They want me to read it, since I wrote it!"

     "Then read it," Key said, tossing the essay back at Meka.

     "But I–"

     "Do it for the library," Key said simply. "You wrote such grand things for it, now speak them. You can't be passive about things like this, buttercup." Key walked away without another word. Meka sat there, thinking deeply. Then she began to read her essay out loud, to the buzzers and the beekadoodles.

     — — — — — — — —

     There was a great bustle as the student body left the auditorium. Most of them, the more lazy ones, were going right home to nap. But a few, the bright-eyed ambitious ones, were running to the utility closets, grabbing cleaning supplies, then heading for the library. There were about thirty six students, twelve teachers, and a great number of the Aslo clan.

     They entered the library and began cleaning. They pulled books off of shelves and put them in boxes, to be sorted later. They scrubbed, they tidied and they climbed up bookshelves to get the books at the top and to clear cobwebs.

     Key flew about, eliminating dust happily. As a ghost she could simply move dust to a convenient void somewhere the dust would bother no one.

     Meka was watching from the top of a study table with a bright shining face. She had given her speech, and it had gone smashingly well. And now, finally, things could be changed, and the library would be well, clean, and loved.

The End