Shear, chapter 4. (Patreon)

Giving thanks -  I give thanks to all of you, my wonderful fans, who allow me to do this and follow my dream, such as it is. This one, like all the others, is for you. Please enjoy. 

It was time to leave. The teachers didn't care where we went, but we couldn't stay here. Despite what all the posters or after school specials said, no one who worked here wanted to deal with a kid's problems. They had their own issues and lives.

So it was time to find somewhere to be, and an excuse to stay there that would be accepted even past dinner time. The library would fulfill both conditions. Mother set high standards for my grades, so if they slipped there were consequences. Under those rules, she couldn't very well forbid me from after school work on my grades.

Mother was tough, but fair. Or so she thought.

The library wasn't far; just a mile. An easy enough walk, even with my books on my back.

I could already see Kimberly, walking with her friends in the distance, going the other direction. Libraries did not agree with her.

Which made it all the better for me, of course. There was no chance I'd have to deal with my loving sister there. In fact, if I were pressed, there was only one fly in this particular ointment.

She was behind me. Helena, complete with some of those who wanted to get to know her better, was walking along without a single care in the world behind me, her eyes firmly on my back.

She wasn't even trying to be discrete, and those who were more observant were already looking from her to me, clearly making the same connection I had.

No, it was a conclusion which could be leaped to. The library was a destination that a new student could wish to journey to, in order to make sure their grades didn't suffer. If one were studious.

It may be uncharitable of me to think, but Helena did not look studious. She looked like one of those girls who wouldn't be caught dead inside a library, and would rather set up study groups with friends of similar thoughts so they could all get C's together.

Much like the group I saw forming around her, even now droning on about some new thing or another - I couldn't really follow it from this distance. The chances are most would peel away as they realized her destination; such might even be her goal. She did not look overjoyed by all the attention and her status as the new kid.

Whatever, it was not a concern of mine.

I had my own concerns. Concerns for which the day was entirely too good for; a waning fall day with brightly colored leaves swaying in a crisp breeze. I would have also been treated to birdsong, yet the traffic and the noise from behind me conspired to keep the birds silent.

Even so, these brief moments of unadulterated joy were, well, a joy.

It was with some regret that I entered the cool and shadowy confines of the library. The smells of old paper and carpet cleaner hit me, and I welcomed them.

The best stacks were the ones in back of course, farthest away from the door and the phone. I didn't have a phone myself, which was partly my own decision, but sometimes if Mom got angry enough, she would find the number to the library and try to send the librarians searching for me. I doubted that would happen today, as I'd had every indication that Mom would arrive at home late if at all, and simply go for the leftovers in the fridge.

Kimberly would be most affected, of course, and so I'd pay for it later. My loving sister did not like eating leftovers.

She'd likely just go out to eat and then complain about how much weight she's gained from eating fast food, at length.

The shelves in back were the ones housing books of science and history, the most unpopular books in our rather small library. The bean bag chairs in the back were a trap of course, since kids liked them and they never got cleaned, but the old office chairs that used to be used for the tables full of computers near the main desk were still comfortable, and could be cleaned with a simple wet wipe.

I carried some of course, because you never knew when you might have need of a good wet wipe. I grabbed a book in passing, one on the fall of the roman empire. It was not a topic of our history class yet, but it soon would be. One used wet wipe later and I was seated at the farthest table from the door, leaning back in a comfortable and clean chair, reading about the Visigoths.

I'd just gotten settled in when I heard the door open. I could hear everything from here, an acoustic trick of the building. I could hear the inane chatter of my fellow students, which was sure to bring the irate librarian from her office with furious shushing noises.

I was all for that. If they were silent it would be as if they were never here. The table I was at was too small for such a group, so even if they found me, they could not bother me without getting the librarian to throw them out. Few people knew of this little alcove, and fewer still used it.

Which was why it was so surprising that the gaggle of humanity appeared to be coming directly my way, still discussing some latest trend seen on social media, loudly.

There was little I could do but ride the storm of humanity out and wait on the librarian to apply her unique brand of discipline to the situation.

There were fewer than I expected when they finally strode into view, but they were following Helena, so I was one for two.

She also had a book, which given the speed of her arrival, must have been plucked from the shelves in passing like mine. She plopped down at the table across from mine with a sunny smile, even as her coterie descended around her, blocking our views of each other.

Also as expected, the librarian was not far behind. A small woman who was constantly in old sweaters, even in the summer, she wore her graying hair in a bun so severe that her hair pulled the rest of her head and face back to meet it. She was old and withered, but with active eyes and a severe glare that made you feel as if you were doing something you shouldn't be, even if you weren't.

Her glare now was beyond such a minor setting; it was turned all the way up to incandescent as she marched down upon the group at the other table like an inexorable tide.

"You will be quiet, or you will leave. This is a library, not a rock concert!" She hissed the words out bearing down not on me, nor even on Helena, but a large senior in a letterman's jacket, one Christopher J Bell. He was a football star and well-used to tackling people, but the librarian had ambushed him completely, and it was slightly amusing to see him stammer back at her for a moment before finding his mental footing.

He finally decided on what tack to take: "sorry ma'am, We'll be quiet."

The librarian, whose name tag said Brenda, and who I knew as Brenda Samson, stared the guy who could make two of her down for a moment longer, just to make everyone really uncomfortable, and then replied. "See that you do."

She then turned and favored me with a small smile before slipping back into the stacks like an agile ghost. She didn't know everything, but she knew enough.

Chris sat down with a whump, muttering: "that was bullshit! why did she single me out?"

Helena shook her head, and I could just hear her whisper. "You were the one left standing up. The rest of us were seated. Which meant you were more likely to cause trouble, in her mind."

They risked bringing her back, but Helena seemed to know. She was speaking very softly and clammed up quickly, opening her book. A book on the history of the Cartheginians; a rather odd sort of coincidence.

I turned back to my own book, and a silence settled in. A silence marked by fidgeting and the rustling of paper as those near me decided to do something productive - namely their homework.

Helena seemed content a table away, but I had my doubts. Still, her newfound friends or companions kept her from bothering me.

......

They were in the library, of course they were. Horatio was always in the library at this time, and she knew it. We both knew it.

I thought I'd be able to just wait for my moment and then warn him, no problem. Even she couldn't stop me from this close.

But he could.

He could stand right outside the main door to the small library, acting as a gatekeeper while everyone else ignored him, just smiling away.

"Legion. What are you doing here?"

The man's smile widened, and he dropped the disguise he'd been wearing. "Oh you know, just hanging out, watching my favorite person. You know, like you should be. Watching, and admiring from afar."

he was showing teeth now, and his eyes....

"I was just...."

"I know what you were just doing. I brought you back with me because you wanted to see him again. You begged me 'can I see him again?' and I said yes. Burt seeing is not interfering. I will not allow anyone, even you, to interfere in destiny. You get me?"

I got it. "Yes."

He stepped close; his hand was cold on my head, and he used a bit too much force to muss my hair. "Hey now, no need for that face. Relax! You'll get more chances to see how it all went down. As long as you're useful."

As powerful as I was, there was nothing I could do. I hated this helplessness. "Yes sir."

With a final pat he abandoned my head and moved back the three steps to take his old position. "Have some fun. Enjoy a simpler time."

I heard the unspoken 'somewhere else, or else.' "Enjoy your own day."

I was stopped for now, but there was more than one way to skin this cat. I needed to find Kimberly.

I had some time left, and luckily I knew where I was; finding her would be easy enough.

Behind me, Legion shifted, but stayed put, which had to mean I was on the right track. He could know, even now, but if he wasn't already snapping my neck it meant he didn't care.

She was walking home right now, I knew. She was angry her plans had fallen through, and what was his name... Gary? Yeah, Gary, the flavor of the day, had cancelled their not really a date on her. I'd just have to deal with her annoyance. There was no telling when my ride might have no further use for me.

I hated walking, but here I had no choice. There were no bus or cab services in this podunk town. I hated being back here. At least I wasn't as bad as I used to be, and I wouldn't get winded with just this.

The pace could have left something to be desired; I was cutting it close, Deborah Matheson would be home in less than a half an hour.

I needed to knock loudly; with force and confidence; otherwise, Kimberly wouldn't answer.

On my fourth knock I could hear her, aggressively taking the stairs. I couldn't hear what she was saying, but I was certain it wasn't flattering.

This was going to change it all, in an instant.

Kimberly opened the door, then caught sight of me. Her face twisted in such rage!

"Who put you up to this? Was it Jessica? The other Kim? You know what, never mind."

The door almost impacted my nose, she slammed it so hard. How dare she?!?

I knocked again. I could and would do this all day.

Another knock, and the door opened again. She spoke so quickly I almost didn't catch it: "Look, you want to talk, take the mask off. Better yet, you go back and tell the other Kim that you're a poor choice for a look alike because you're too fat!"

The door slammed again.

She... she... she what?

I would murder this bitch! They would find pieces of her states away!

No, no... I couldn't murder her. I couldn't arrange for a convenient death for her, of all people alive. But she was a bitch. I wasn't even one-forty, and I had inches on her.

I'd have to go with plan C; use my power and make events themselves dance to my tune. It was best to use in tune with Atropos, but I'd have to manipulate her as well. Our lack of relationship now was why I was here, after all. It seemed a bad idea to try my old tricks, even this early in our history... or late in our history? Whatever. Something told me it was a bad idea - a small voice that I had learned to listen to over the years, at great cost.

This entire journey was about changing everything - and that bitch... no, it was my own fault. I'd forgotten how things were, how things had been. What could I do to fix this?

There was another person who was involved, but not directly angry with me yet. Someone else who would listen, who hadn't fallen for my old tricks yet. If only I was strong enough to ignore that man and confront my problems directly... but I wasn't. No one was.

That man didn't like me either. I'd have to wait for a dull moment; one in which neither were watching, and go back to relying on the mail. Cryptic hints would do the trick, they had always done so before.

Now I just needed to find a decent place to stay. Sleeping under bridges was only fun for so long. Mr. McConnel had a motor-home, for another six months or so at least. Those were easy to set up, and what the McConnel's didn't know wouldn't hurt them.

They were also close enough to the post office that I wouldn't need to expose myself by using an actual box. I would, of course, just to throw people off the scent. And of course it would work - my power was so useful. Just not nearly as good in direct confrontations as the planning stages.

I'd have to focus. With that man here, I'd need to have him mapped out completely; anything could set him off.

Relationships were truly strange sometimes. If I had the in that my sister had, I'd use it without hesitation. She just wanted an end.