It wasn't that her dad didn't talk about her mom, because he did. A lot. Too much sometimes. Amber had just never asked him what her favorite color had been. If she was wrong and it wasn't green, Amber didn't want to know it. Her favorite color was green and Amber liked to think that she had something in common with her mother.
“We're here, kiddo,” her dad said when the truck came to a stop.
“Oh, yeah,” Amber muttered and looked up at the tall building that served as the city's library. She had asked him to drop her off here after school, last night. How had she forgotten? Oh, yeah, Joshua Nelson was out there with a broken heart and there was nothing she could do about it. For a moment she thought about finding him alone in the library and running her fingers through his thick black hair while she cooed, assuring him everything would be okay. He didn't need the too-skinny Hannah. He could have her instead. She'd never be caught dead or alive swapping spit with the so called Alexander the Great.
“Thanks, Dad,” Amber said as she forced her body to move. She wasn't in the mood to talk. Her nose crinkled when she thought about the history report and math homework that weighed down her backpack.
Amber took a deep breath as she stepped into the library. The smell of paper and book bindings filled her nose and brought a small smile to her lips. The summer before she started high-school Amber had participated in the library's summer reading program, because Tamara's family had gone out of town for vacation, leaving her to hang solo for the summer. Since that summer Amber had spent as much time at the library as her dad would allow.
Putting off the inevitable hours spent working on homework Amber headed for the books. She wasn't looking for anything in particular. On her nightstand at home were two stacks of unread books. Amber inhaled deeply and held it for a count of three before exhaling. Then she repeated the process over and over until she found her rhythm. She continued her breathing exercises as she walked through the rows of books. Amber thought the best place for moving meditation was the library.
She enjoyed the feeling of being surrounded by millions upon millions of words, knowing that writers had carefully carved each of them into the stone of time as they printed them onto the page.
“Joshua looked so sad today,” she thought to herself, “I should slap the skinny right off, Hannah.”
Inhale. One. Two. Three. Exhale.
“No, maybe I should thank her, if he doesn't have a girlfriend it'll up the odds of him noticing me.”
Inhale. One. Two. Three. Exhale.
“Why hasn't he noticed me yet?”
Inhale. One. Two. Three. Exhale.
“What haven't I done, that I need to do to get him to notice me?”
Inhale. One. Two. Three. Exhale.
“I give up,” Amber muttered under her breath, “This just isn't going to cut it today.”
Rhythmic breathing and meditation usually cleared Amber's mind. Her distracted state was the exception not the rule.
“Why does he always go for girls like that? Doesn't he see I could make him happy?” Amber wondered.
Amber had wandered away from the fiction books and studied the dewy decimal numbers as she wandered up and down the rows of non-fiction books.
“How to Get the Attention of the Office Stud!” and “Pushup Bras and Lipstick! A Girl's True Best Friend.”
Neither of the titles was appealing to her so Amber kept searching. Despite consulting books for every other aspect of her life, it had never occurred to her to consult a book about Joshua Nelson. Maybe, just maybe, something here inside these pages would help. Amber searched for anything that might restore her hope, because she was beginning to feel desperate. She sighed and walked down the aisle again and again. Usually, if she couldn't find the book she was looking for she asked the librarian. Were you allowed to ask for books like this or was there some unwritten rule against it? Amber squared her shoulders and decided to risk it. What could it hurt? She already felt lower than an earthworm.
“Excuse me,” she said to a middle-aged blonde woman wearing a lanyard that indicated she was employed by the library. Her blonde hair looked as if it had been pulled into a tight high-pony tail and then wrapped into a bun. It looked sloppy and sexy at the same time.
“Why does she get to be blonde? Maybe Dad will let me dye my hair? He always says no, despite the fact I'm almost sixteen now. I'll be sixteen by the end of the school year. Would I look sexy with a sloppy bun?” Amber wondered while she waited for the woman to reply.
“Yes, may I help you?” the woman looked up from the stack of books she was shelving.
“Yes, please,” Amber said and hesitated, “I need a book about getting your crush to notice you.”
“Look on the new row over,” the librarian said and turned her attention back to her work.
“I've already looked there,” Amber frowned.
“Perhaps you should look again, sweetheart. These shelves hold many books and it's very easy to overlook the perfect one,” the librarian smiled at her, “Some books also like to hide. They think it's funny.”
“Thanks,” Amber rolled her eyes and walked away.
She frowned at her feet and headed towards the study area. The librarian hadn't taken her seriously. Why did adults never understand how serious these things were?