summer meant good books

[Zoe Wallerstein-Smythe]

Summer meant good books. Technically, it meant a lot of things: increased heat, less clothing (for most people), beaches, vacations, but for Zoe, it always meant good books. Even though she preferred writing her own poetry, she recognized that she needed, craved reading other people's writing as well. She always read at least one new poet a summer, figuring that was an excellent way to expand things. This was why she was walking through the library, searching the various shelves with a critical eye.

Zoe didn't dress like someone ready for summer though. Her long denim skirt swished around her ankles, covering a pair of boots. The sleeves of the billow peasant shirt were long, and the arms tucked within them were covered in a pair of black laced gloves that at least appeared to be made of a breathable fabric. A choker hung about her neck, and the major change, though you wouldn't know it unless you knew her, was the lack of a hat of any kind perched atop her light brown hair.

At least Zoe looked happy. Hard for her not to be when she was in a library. The smell of books was comforting, and the school didn't need to skimp on air conditioning, wanting to preserve books (obviously a priority for someone on the staff). As far as she was concerned, it was the perfect place to head on a summer day. She wasn't the only one to think so either: Zoe could see a few people looking through the shelves.

It was as she looked that she noticed a redhaired girl that she didn't recognize looking through the shelves, seeming a little confused. Zoe bit her lip, hesitating for a moment, looking around. She took a deep breath, reminding herself that talking to people was good, and nobody really blamed her for anything any more. Getting shot had fixed everything, ironically enough. So Zoe took several steps forward, shifted the few books she had to one side, and pointed with one gloved hand toward the shelf.

"I like that one," she said, reaching out to touch the very book she'd pointed at. "It's a perfect summer read, all about romance and such," she realized how very British she sounded, which was probably because she was nervous. Her accent always crept up on her when she was. At least her voice hadn't sprung up too high in octave. "That is, um, if you like that sort of thing," she added, obviously having realized how forward she'd been. Zoe chewed her lip then, looking over the shelves with a sudden intense interest.

[Steinbeck Dunn]

Becky had decided, almost before even entering the library, that this was going to be one of her favorite places. She loved libraries because, maybe a bit strangely, they reminded her of home. The bookshop underneath her mothers' apartment was basically an extension of her home, after all, and she was used to walls and walls of books and that lovely, bookish smell. And the library at Bellefonte didn't disappoint. The large, towering bookshelves, long rows, reading areas, and air conditioning made it one of the best places to escape for an afternoon (especially if you wanted to escape the summer heat).

Having just finished her current novel, she was looking for a new one, and decided to expand beyond the personal collection that she had brought along with her. She had the whole library to explore, looking at titles and covers and synopses and trying to decide which one to pick. It was pretty difficult. She was currently about halfway through her search, but nothing had caught her eye yet. There were a lot of good books laying around, but she really wanted something a bit lighter for the summer. Something fluffy and fun that wouldn't make her cry (because, having recently finished The Fault in Our Stars, she really, really needed something a bit more upbeat).

She was so caught up in staring at the shelves before her that she didn't even notice when a girl crept up on her. She jumped a little bit, surprised when a hand suddenly appeared in front of her face, but she quickly realized that it was just another innocent library patron. She looked a little bit overdressed for the current weather, but it was pretty chilly in here with the air conditioning, so she didn't question it much. She managed to collect herself enough to listen to the girl's suggestion. She sounded British, which was interesting, and Becky gave her a shy smile before she reached up to pluck the book from the shelf, flipping it over so she could read the back.

"It'th exactly what I'm looking for," she replied quietly, keeping her eyes down on the book. It was true. It looked like a fluffy romance book (one without death) and it sounded engaging enough to keep her attention. "Thankth. I alwayth like reading thome lighter thtuff in the thummer," she lisped, giving her another small smile and flipping through the book's pages. "Is there, um, anything else you'd recommend?" She hoped it was okay that she was asking. The girl seemed to know what she was doing in the library and she definitely had a good taste in books.

[Zoe Wallerstein-Smythe]

Zoe smiled as the girl responded, nearly sighing with relief. She'd been utterly terrified about approaching the stranger, certain that she'd do or say something wrong. Instead, it seemed like quite the opposite had just come true: the girl thoroughly appreciated the comment, smiling and flipping through pages. Zoe was actually caught off-guard by the other request though, her eyes widening for a moment.

"Oh, um," she turned, looking back at the shelves of books. Her mind immediately went to poetry again, and she was tempted to suggest that, though they clearly stood in the novel section. Zoe's eyes roamed, picking out a few titles she'd read, while trying to recall if there was anything here that she'd thoroughly enjoyed. She often drifted toward darker stories of tragic love, but she did agree with the other girl's assertion that those sorts of books weren't exactly summer reads.

"Um, maybe this one?" Zoe reached out to pull another. "It's, um, a bit older, one of those with the corsets and talk about summer houses and such, but it's pretty lighthearted," she held it out, looking like she was about to dash away if the other girl so much as spoke loudly.

[Steinbeck Dunn]

Becky hadn't meant to put the girl on the spot. She could tell that she'd made her panic a little by the way she was glancing around at the shelves. Maybe she shouldn't have asked after all. Oops. She looked back down at the book that she was currently holding, flipping through some more of the pages to get a feel for the author's literary style until the girl spoke up again.

She looked up and saw the book that Zoe had picked out. It was one that she'd read last summer and it only confirmed for her that they shared the same taste in literature. Or at least, the same taste in summer-fluff novels. "I love this one," she replied in a whisper. She didn't want to draw attention to them in the library. "I really like older novels. It's kind of fun to read about how ladies had to live back then." At least, Becky found it fun. "And the antiquated language can be pretty fun too." Sometimes, after diving into a book set in a different time period, she'd find herself accidentally sounding like she was from the seventeenth century when she spoke. She took the book from the girl even though she'd already read it, just to look at the edition.

"It's a really good one," she repeated, giving the girl another smile even though she didn't look up all the way. "What are you reading right now, if you don't mind me asking?"

[Zoe Wallerstein-Smythe]

Relief flooded Zoe. She might not have picked out a book for Becky to read right away, but she'd at least picked out a book that the other girl had read. That helped perk her up considerably, even if Becky did speak in a whisper, talking about older novels and such. "I sometimes understand the language better in the older books then the newer ones," offered Zoe, "and everything just seems grander back then."

Though Zoe supposed it probably wouldn't have been wonderful for her, all things considered. She probably wouldn't have her powers though, so that might work out. More importantly: Zoe noticed that Becky had taken the book despite having read it before. Which was buoyed Zoe's mood further still, and she found herself actually smiling a little now.

The question did turn the smile into an awkward one, and made Zoe fidget. "Um, it's a book of poetry by Adrienne Rich. I actually read a lot more poetry than novels and such," usually dark poetry too, though Zoe didn't think she should mention that. "I write it too, though, I'm not as good as she was," she flushed then, figuring that she shouldn't have mentioned it. Her eyes went toward the books again, trying to remember some of the books she'd read. There were just so many good ones if you knew where to look, and Zoe was thinking that maybe something by Jane Austen or one of the Brontes? Then something else occurred to her.

"Oh," she turned back to Becky, "I'm Zoe, by the way, nice to meet you," she extended her hand then pulled back. She licked her lips and worked her fingers against her hand. "No offense: I just, um, have a nasty touching power, though the gloves should work I--" she lowered her hand, feeling like all kinds of silly now.

[Steinbeck Dunn]

Becky was glad that Zoe knew what she meant about older books. It was so easy to get sucked into the language and the atmosphere of the book when the words reflected the time period. Older books always seemed a little bit more grown up and serious and dramatic than new ones, even if it dealt with the same subject matter. She liked old romances, just because the language everyone used when talking about love and all its elements was so antiquated and giggle-worthy.

She continued to look through the book that Zoe had pointed out, only looking up briefly when Zoe started talking. She didn't want to stare at the girl and spook her even more. She knew how it felt to feel awkward and frightened around strangers. Becky was shy and awkward at the best of times, so she tried to make this girl feel a little bit less so. Becky wasn't that into poetry, but she'd read a few volumes, and she had her favorites. Definitely enough to talk about it with Zoe. Or, she hoped it was enough.

"That's really cool," she replied quietly, tucking the book underneath her arm. "I read more novels than poetry, but I definitely enjoy anthologies of poetry now and then. I don't think I've read any Adrienne Rich." Maybe she could find a few of her poems and see if it was her cup of tea. She was also interested in the things the girl was writing. "I could never get the hang of writing poetry," she admitted. "I can't rhyme, so that type of poetry is right out. And I guess I'm just not a symbolic thinker. Or at least, not to the extreme that poets are."

She hoped that wasn't admitting too much or making her seem stupid of something. Talking was difficult. But she could probably handle socially-scripted introductions, even if Zoe couldn't shake hands. "That's okay. We don't have to shake hands if you don't want to," she assured her, hoping that didn't sound awkward. She didn't want to make Zoe uncomfortable. "Nice to meet you too. I'm Steinbeck. Becky." She gave a little wave instead. That was sort of like a handshake, right? She probably just looked stupid. But oh well.

[Zoe Wallerstein-Smythe]

The thought of someone, especially someone like Becky who clearly had a lot in common with her, liking Zoe's poetry made her brighten up almost immediately. She nodded, definitely understanding liking novels as opposed to poetry. It certainly wasn't for everyone, after all. "It certainly can seem daunting and all, but I always find it so freeing. I take pictures of people and then the words sort of come. It's a bit like letting pieces of your soul peek out and write themselves on the--"

she paused, realizing that she'd started gushing. This meant a lip bite and hands going away. She'd already made things awkward enough with her near handshake. At least Becky hadn't chuckled at it or anything; she seemed to be taking it all in stride. Zoe relaxed almost immediately at that, taking another deep breath. Soon the smile had come back, complete with a little wave.

"But yes," she said, lowering her hand back down, "I, um, like to write poetry and all. I don't think I'd recommend Adrienne Rich to start out with though. There are much nicer poets; she's very.. metaphysical..." Zoe trailed off for a moment, then she frowned. "Excuse me, but did you say your name was Steinbeck?" Her brow furrowed. "Like... like the author Steinbeck?" It certainly sounded like an odd name to give a girl, especially a pretty one like Becky. Yes, she definitely looked more like a Becky then a "Steinbeck." Then again, Zoe didn't think she looked much like a "Wallerstein-Smythe," so there was that.

[Steinbeck Dunn]

Becky didn't mind the gushing. It was always exciting to see someone excited about literature, whether that was poetry or novels or reading or writing. She listened eagerly as Zoe explained her own motivations and ideas about poetry writing. She couldn't imagine being able to look at a picture like that and being able to put it into words. And not literal words, but metaphorical and symbolic words that would mean more than the picture could convey. "Wow. I've never thought of it like that, but it kind of is. Like imprinting your own personal stamp and substance onto a page."

She might pick up an Adrienne Rich anthology, no matter what Zoe said about it being metaphysical, just to try it out. Most of it would probably go right over her head, but it would at least be fun to try. But then Zoe got hung up on her name and she found herself blushing, embarrassed. She should have just stuck with Becky. She laughed awkwardly. "Um, yeah. Named after John Steinbeck of Grapes of Wrath and everything else," she said, shrugging her shoulders. "My moms are literature majors. I'm just glad they picked a name that lent itself to a semi-normal nickname. Becky is definitely preferred," she assured her. She didn't want people going around and calling her Steinbeck. Her parents only called her that when they were very mad.

"Anyway, um. Are there any poets you would recommend?" she asked curiously. "For the amateur poetry reader. I mean, like, above Where The Sidewalk Ends but below anything too deep and shrouded."

[Zoe Wallerstein-Smythe]

Once more, Zoe ended up sighing with relief as Becky seemed more impressed with her gushing as opposed to frightened or surprised. Conversing with this girl was quickly becoming one of the easiest conversations that Zoe had ever had. Perhaps she should stop second-guessing things, like her few friends kept telling herself. It did seem like Becky was genuinely interested, after all.

The awkward laughing helped even more. Zoe smiled, nodding, glad that she'd gotten the name right. "You did seem to luck out there. You not only have a wonderfully original name, but we can just call you Becky," which was just repeating what Becky said. Zoe flushed for a moment, but resolved to just push on. Becky wouldn't care; she kept telling herself that. Indeed, Becky had even asked for further advice, advice worded in a way that had Zoe giggling.

"Some people say that there's not really an amateur poetry reader, or that you'd be the best audience," she replied. "Also, Shel Silverstein is quite good and can be quite deep. There's also, hmm, well, Keats is excellent if you're looking for very poetical poetry," Zoe smiled, "he writes poetry that sounds like the stuff people use when they make fun of poetry. Emily Dickinson is one of my personal favorites though, um," Zoe looked down at the books for a moment, "she's rather maudlin... there's always William Carlos Williams if you'd like something more abstract and modern, or Elizabeth Bishop," Zoe paused again. So many poets came to mind ,but she didn't want to overwhelm Becky, even if she was pretty sure that the other girl wouldn't mind overmuch.

[Steinbeck Dunn]

Becky listened happily to Zoe, glad that she wasn't phased by Becky's awkwardness. It was always nice to meet other shy people because they completely understood how sometimes you opened your mouth and things came out not like you wanted them to due to your own anxiety. She didn't mind that Zoe repeated what she said. She was just glad that what she said hadn't sounded dumb, because that was always a worry. She was glad that she agreed with her. Honestly, Zoe was pretty easy to talk to. She liked quiet, bookish conversations in libraries.

She didn't know if she'd be able to keep track of all the suggestions she was making, but she was doing her best. Keats, Dickinson, Williams, Bishop. There was a lot of information to keep in her head. She honestly didn't know much about poetry. Probably more than the average person, but Zoe seemed like she was an absolute expert in the field. She'd never thought of Shel Silverstein as deep, but she probably wasn't understanding the poetry on the deep level that Zoe was.

"I really need something to write all of this down on," Becky said, wishing she had something to scribble on. She liked the phrase "poetical poetry", too. It made her smile. It sounded like something she would say to describe a poet. "Maybe I'll pick up a few volumes now before I forget. And then dedicate like, all my time to reading them because you make it sound really interesting." After all, if Zoe liked the books that Becky liked, they should probably enjoy the same poetry too. Or maybe it was a different taste altogether. Either way, she wanted to check some out.

[Zoe Wallerstein-Smythe]

Zoe flushed at the mention of writing it down. She moved to grab her phone, pulling it out for a moment. "You could, um, I could text you the books maybe? Not that I'm asking for your number or anything!" she said that last too quickly, flushing, biting her lip. Too many bad rumors floating about Zoe, though most had been turned around of late. Kind of hard to hate on someone who didn't perpetuate it, and that fit Zoe all too well.

"Um, you could, there's, um, some volumes over there," She murmured, pointing. "Though you might not like all of them, they're, um, really wide spread and I usually like quite maudlin things overall," and now Zoe was looking down at the ground and shuffling her feet slightly, feeling like she'd messed up, even though she kept telling herself that Becky would most likely be okay with it; she'd been fine with everything else, and hadn't she mentioned having two mothers? Yes, perfectly fine.

[Steinbeck Dunn]

Becky thought that that was a great idea and for a moment she didn't understand why Zoe was freaking out. And then she did. She was worried that Becky might think that Zoe was hitting on her or something. She blushed a little bit, but nodded. "Oh, it's fine! Here, I'll give you my phone and you, um, can get the number and then maybe text me your suggestions? I just don't have the good a memory," she said, holding the phone out somewhat awkwardly. She tried to hold it in a way that wouldn't require their fingers to brush, but it almost made her drop the thing.

She hoped that that made it clear that she didn't care about Zoe's preferences and that she shouldn't be embarrassed about them either way. She had two moms. Homosexuality totally didn't bother her in the least little bit. "That's okay. It'll add some. Uh. Variety," she said, hoping that would assure her. She didn't want her feeling bad for suggesting things. "After I finish my summer fluff, it will be a nice change of pace." Hopefully none of it was horribly dark, but she was okay with more serious themes. Even if it was summer.

[Zoe Wallerstein-Smythe]

"Sorry! Sorry," managed Zoe as she took the phone, making sure not to brush Becky's fingers, not wanting to send bad signals or paralyze her, even though the power certainly wouldn't work through Zoe's gloves, even the thin, summer ones she wore now. "I just, um,' she flushed, looking down at the phone. The girl was new, she probably didn't know what Zoe had been through. Easy enough to punch some numbers into the phone, and doubtless Zoe's would soon be buzzing.

It even sounded like Becky would be fine with the more maudlin works. Zoe smiled, her relief showing in the expression, wanting it to be half "thank you for putting up with me" even as she extended the phone. "I, um, really am sorry about, um, freaking out about the--I mean, I did remember you saying your moms and---I just--um, uh, I only recently---and Dirty Laundry, this blog, it, um, called me the Lesbian Pikachu because, I," she nearly squeaked the last few words, "paralyzed my girlfriend by making out with her."

Which was perhaps the most humiliating thing Zoe could've possibly admitted, and obviously put her in an embarrassment lock down, complete with fidgets and nervous looks away and lip chewing and everything.

[Steinbeck Dunn]

Becky smiled and put her hands in her pockets while Zoe punched in her number. Her anxiety and embarrassment were contagious and she found herself blushing. She didn't want Zoe to be embarrassed. It was a fine thing to ask for her number. She didn't think asking to text someone helpful information was necessarily a come-on. Was it? Becky was notoriously bad at these things, anyway, so maybe it was and they were both floundering.

Once she heard the explanation though, her embarrassment turned into anger. She didn't like that blog at all. It was awful. And especially if it was mean to Zoe, who seemed so nice. Becky didn't care about her having a girlfriend and the fact that she accidentally used her power wasn't anything to be ashamed of. She was quick to try to get her feeling better, in her own awkward way.

"Dirty Laundry is nasty," she said, putting as much conviction into her voice as Becky could ever manage. "It doesn't matter who you're attracted to or, um, if you're attracted to anyone. Don't worry. I do have two moms, so like. No worries." Did that sound awkward? It did. Damn. Becky was scrambling to keep herself from making this worse. "But um. I know how you feel. That blog kind of poked some fun at my, um, boyfriend and me, too. In an indirect kind of way." The stumble over the word 'boyfriend' was pretty obvious. She was blushing really hard now. Maybe that was enough to convince Zoe that she didn't have to be too embarrassed. "It's okay. Sorry."

[Zoe Wallerstein-Smythe]

Zoe nodded as though a hyperactive child had attached a string to her head and started pulling. Her eyes were wide too. "It really is quite nasty: I don't even---" she trailed off, mostly to let Becky finish (and yes, that did mean some flushing, looking away, and awkward shuffling on Zoe's part). Two moms, which Zoe had totally caught and should've paid more attention to.

Hearing that Dirty Laundry had picked on someone else just made Zoe, well, it actually made her a little mad. She stomped her foot for a bit, letting out a little moan of frustration that was about as audible as her voice. "Errgh! I don't know why people don't just do something about that big, mean blog!" she said. She shook her head again, then looked at Becky. "I'm sorry that it picked on you and your boyfriend. You didn't deserve it either," the way Zoe said it, Becky could've confessed that the DL post had been about her boyfriend's tendency to murder small children and present their skins as fashionable handbags and it still would've been inexcusable.

"Oh, here, I," she said, extending the phone, "put my number in. I, um, did I mention, um, that I take pictures? I could take one of you! And your boyfriend. Or just you if you don't want both," her voice had spiked at the offer to take a picture, then slowly trailed down till she practically mumbled the last few words, a way of speaking that Zoe had all but perfected already.