Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

A place of silence—

His mouth twisted in amusement at the thought as the wheels of the library cart squeaked, his eyes on the various patrons for whom the world in front of them existed in a strange silence even with the squeaks emanating from the old library cart, and yet—

A finger pushed up his thick-rimmed glasses, knowing full well the library patrons weren't privy to the magic of the library, what lay in front of their very eyes, unseen yet very much there. His hand reached for a book, gently lifting the old novel that many of his peers would turn their noses up as boring and antiquated, feeling very different.

"Are you excited about starting high school this year?" Fantasy asked from on top of the library cart as Horror climbed up the side while Adventure lay on his spine, fake snoring as he waited for the library to close and the real magic to take hold of the place.

Richard Tyler slipped the novel back into his spot, waiting for the next dreamer to snatch up the title, to perhaps discover the magic he'd found when younger. A laugh escaped his mouth, his voice low, knowing the patrons couldn't hear the books, the genre which became fast friends of his at a very young age. "It's just another adventure, isn't it?"

"Aye," Adventure said. "And surely not as scary as any of the adventures we've encountered, is it?"

"Or any of the horrors," Horror piped up, then shivered down his spine. "But isn't high school, you know..."

"Always afraid," Richard laughed, gently patting Horror on the head. "But don't forget that the horror stories always come to an end, and the horrors put to bed."

Horror let out a humming sound as Richard continued pushing the cart, putting the various books returned by the patrons away. "But they're not the best stories before bedtime, are they?"

"There, there," Fantasy's wings fluttered as she shifted position. "I know it's rather hard, what with Richard being one of the few youths with imagination to check you out and that you mostly see adults."

"It's not that," Horror said, frowning. "I wouldn't want to check me out for a bedtime story either."

Richard laughed, shaking his head at his friends, the wheels of the cart continuing to squeak across the ornate floor as he came to the doomed ceiling and looked up at the intricate mural, an attempt to bring alive various classics in hopes of encouraging other youth in taking up reading, and yet—

He shook his head as Adventure continued his pretend nap while Horror hung onto the side of the cart, unseen by the patrons; in the same way, none saw Fantasy fluttering around, fairy wings sticking out of her pink spine. "None have experienced the magic that..."

"Your mouth is hanging open," Fantasy said, slowly fluttering over, using her wand to push Richard's jaw up.

"She..." Richard started saying, watching the girl with blond hair pulled into a ponytail look up at the mural. He swallowed, looking up again, wondering if she saw what he did, then lowered his head, clearing his voice. "Can I help you?"

The girl startled, looking him in the eye. She was a definite stranger as she clutched a composition notebook and a pen in her hands, her mouth pushing together.

"Uh..." Richard reached a hand up to rub his neck, frowning as he did so, confused by her lack of reaction.

"Romance?"

His eyes blinked, his jaw dropping as Adventure let out a gagging sound of disgust. His mouth screwed up, "Why did she have to pick the one genre I've not really..."

"Never mind," she said, her eyes glassed over as if she didn't really see him before taking off towards the front desk.

Richard tilted his head, frowning. "She seems?"

"As lost as you once were?" Fantasy asked, fluttering in front of his face before turning to Adventure, clicking her tongue. "And there's nothing wrong with Romance, you know?"

Adventure grumbled while Richard tilted his head. "What's this you're saying?"

"Something about always butting in," Horror said.

"Uh..."

"It's always butting in on my adventures!" Adventure said, shaking his hook at Richard, his face twisted into a scowl as Richard looked in.

"It is?" Richard said, looking back up at the mural, wondering how Romance fitted into everything, noting he'd never seen that particular Genre floating around, though he'd caught sight of Tragedy and Comedy a few times, and Sci-Fi..."

"Romance never seems to have a problem getting checked out," Horror sighed, having finally climbed on top of the cart. "I wonder what it is the girls who check her out see in her."

"Girls," Richard muttered, shaking his head, remembering—

"Something the matter?" Fantasy said.

"Ah," Richard said, pushing up his glasses. "Just, I guess the guys at school are starting to talk about them. But I've always got a nose in a book, so..." He paused, glancing up at the ceiling. "They wonder what I see in all of this. Sometimes..."

"Wait?" Horror called out. "You don't..."

"I don't regret one bit," Richard said, smiling. "I just wish..." He glanced towards the entrance and the clock, letting out a sigh. "Not that it matters."

He pushed the cart towards the front so the head librarian and his assistants might finish putting back the books he'd not yet finished putting away. The head librarian looked up, frowning. "Heading home already?"

"I start high school tomorrow," Richard said. "So I need to get a good night's sleep and can't stop closing like I do during the summer."

The librarian let out a chuckle. "But you are still going to check out your allotted number of books, particularly since you're old enough to check out more books now?"

"Of course?" Richard said, holding up a thumb. "I am definitely going to get in trouble staying up late and reading to my heart's content."

"You shouldn't encourage him," Cynthia said, shaking her head as her brown bangs remained as neatly trimmed as her hair. She pushed up her own glasses. "And you shouldn't have scared away that new patron."

"I didn't scare her away," the head librarian said, ignoring Cynthia. "As long as he doesn't neglect his homework..."

"Seriously," Cynthia said, shaking her head again.

"He scared a new patron away?" Richard asked.

"It wasn't me," the head librarian said, glancing in a particular direction, and—

Richard's eyes blinked, catching sight of a flash of pink that reminded him of Fantasy, only for the flash of pink to disappear as quickly as it had appeared. His mouth twisted into a grin as he looked down at the cart. "Perhaps that girl? She could see the books as well?"

"Sure it wasn't you," Cynthia said, shaking her head. "Eccentric old coot. You're supposed to encourage her to get a library card, not decide not to."

"Oh," Richard said, feeling disappointed. "I guess not."

"Guess not?" Cynthia asked, turning to look at him.

"I was just thinking," he said, holding up his hands, then tilting his head. "Never mind." He removed the apron, which let patrons know he was a volunteer at the library who could help them select a book despite his young age. "No use wishing for someone else." He grinned at his three friends, taking out the books he'd checked out before his shift started, and slipped them into his backpack, heading out past the stone lions and heading home, taking a breath of fresh air as he existed and stretching his arms out.

"Well, a new adventure awaits us tomorrow!" he said, excited at the prospect.

Chapter Text

A composition notebook slid across the table. It wasn't the typical black-and-white notebook, but one colored purple with a rather elegant design, giving off a feeling of maturity that Vada so craved. She pulled the notebook closer to her, frowning.

"I figured that with us living in a brand new place, you could use a brand new notebook to write your poetry and stories."

"No thanks," Vada said, pushing the notebook toward her stepmother, only for it to be pushed back at her.

"I know that you've already filled your other ones, Vada," her stepmother said. She then reached into her pocket, pulled out a piece of paper, and held it out to her.

Vada reluctantly took the piece of paper, eying the creases, which showed that the paper had once folded differently than it did now.

"I took a time figuring out where the local library was."

Vada's mouth opened, yet no words of protest came out. The negative feelings involving the move and everything else threatened to escape, to rampage about unceremoniously, yet didn't, her eyes catching sight of the movers.

"It's a map to the library, but I figured you could check it out and familiarize yourself with it before school starts tomorrow."

"Yeah. School," Vada said, far from thrilled at the thought of starting a new school.

"At least everyone else will be starting a new school tomorrow."

"Not the older kids," Vada said, unfolding the paper. "And everybody knows everybody in a small town like this."

"I'm trying," Shelly said. "I really am." The woman sucked in her breath, a hand reaching up to brush aside her dark locks of hair. "And I'm not trying to replace your mom."

"Sure," Vada said, not looking her in the eye, just as—

Her half-brother started crying, and Vada grimaced at the sound. Shelly turned her head, dark eyes on her infant son, moving to scoop the infant up before turning to Vada. "I imagine hanging around helping your step-mom out can't be cool, right? And it doesn't really matter if you write in a notebook or go to the library. It matters that you do what you want, what you think is the cool hop thing to do, right?"

"Right," Vada muttered, unfolding the map. She looked up. "The library is nearby?"

"Yes."

"Can't be much of anything, being this is a small town, right?"

"I don't know," Shelly said. "It looked pretty big to me." She turned to look at Vada's half-brother. "And please? You don't want to be stuck here helping me change nappies, Vada. You've got your high school years ahead of you, and I want them to be as amazing as possible."

"I think I'll check out the library." Vada pushed a strand of blond hair away from her face, her slate-blue eyes glued on the map. Then, "Do you also have a map of the high school?"

"Do you want it today or tomorrow?" Shelly said, holding her son to her chest and bouncing him slightly to calm the crying. Or would you rather have the excuse of being new to town be the reason you're late?"

"Hmm," Vada said, standing up, not responding to what Shelly said. She thought if she decided to, she could memorize the map to the high school later that night without being late to school on her first day. She didn't bid her stepmother or half-brother goodbye as she headed out. She took the map, composition notebook, and pen with her.

Upon arriving outside what was supposed to be her new home, Vada took a deep breath and looked up at the sky. She felt that the bright, sunlit day was the exact opposite of how she really felt. The air, though, lacked the smog of the big city and the walk to the library—

"Might clear my mind."

She walked a couple of blocks, then sucked in her breath at seeing the huge library for what was, in her opinion, a very small town. She quickly descended the stairs, went past the stone lions, and headed in, finding herself in awe at how old and antiquated everything looked, giving off a romantic look of begone years that she yearned for.

"My book won't be boring like those classic romances, though," Vada thought to herself, stepping in, ignoring the librarians up front, instead drawn to looking the place over and figuring out where everything was.

Which was when she discovered the mural.

"No romance," Vada thought to herself, taking in the wizard dressed in blue in the center, with a dragon and knight to the south of the wizard, pirates to the East, a white wale to the North, and a spooky chemistry set. "What about the romance genre?"

The lack of the genre she was currently interested in left her with a hollow feeling she couldn't quite explain.

"But then everything feels hollow right now, doesn't it? I mean, I had to move all the way here rather than live in the home I'd grown up in. It's not fair, right?"

"Can I help you?"

Vada was startled, turning her head, and noticed the nerdy glasses first and foremost before saying, "Romance?"

And then—

Well, she'd turned away from him, the nerd with glasses, while looking back up at the ceiling, having expected the response she got as the genre seemed more like a genre for girls. "Never mind."

She decided to head to the front desk, thinking about getting a library card, when the elderly librarian startled her, saying, "You're new."

"Obviously," Vada muttered, not wanting to be the new girl, still nervous about starting high school tomorrow when a flash of pink caught her eye, and for a moment—

"You can see the magic?"

"What?" Vada turned her head, startled at the question.

"The magic in the books," the elderly librarian said, but for some reason—

"He looks like the wizard from the mural," Vada thought to herself, finding the thought creeping her out as much as his question did. "Do I really want to get a library card?"

The female librarian let out a sigh. The look on her face seemed as cold as a response from the creepy older librarian, who looked like the wizard in the mural and had asked her a ludicrous question.

"Although I suspect she's just frustrated with him, not me," Vada said, then blurted out. "I'm just figuring out where things are in town right now. I'd better go."

And with that, she slipped out of the library, catching the sight of a pink book—

Vada's eyes blinked, and she hurried out further, finding herself disturbed at the idea of something magical happening in front of her face. She lifted her hands, clapping them and her items against her cheeks. "His crazy question must be making my mind go insane."

She stood there, then shook her head, deciding to head back, thinking she'd tackle making her bedroom her own, or at least as much as she could get done in half a day.

Chapter Text

Awaking early and arriving early seemed like the best choice. Thus, she avoided entering the front office and alerted fewer of her peers to the fact that she was new to the school beyond being a mere Freshman.

Vada arrived in the kitchen, and the smell of the eggs, bacon, and toast Shelly had made for breakfast assaulted her. "Hungry?"

"I've got to get going," Vada said, quickly putting together a nice breakfast sandwich while her half-brother drooled over the small pieces of cereal, his tiny fingers shoved into his mouth. "The map?"

Shelly handed her the map she drew, mouth pressed together. "You don't need to be in such a hurry to grow up, you know."

"Uh-huh," Vada said, her eyes taking in the details regarding how she needed to get to school, making sure her brain memorized the path so nobody else walking to school that early would see her and realize how new to town she was. Then, she shoved the paper into her pocket before snatching up the sandwich and hurrying out the door, her backpack already hanging over her shoulder, not bothering to say goodbye as she did so.

Walking to the high school, Vada munched on her breakfast sandwich, looking up at the sky, noting the clouds starting to form. She thought herself lucky for starting early, as rain might have fallen on her head had she started later. By the time she arrived at the school, Vada had finished her breakfast sandwich and didn't hesitate to lick her fingers in a rather unladylike manner.

She stepped through the front doors, the clouds outside continuing to grow in intensity, and stepped into the front office, only for the secretary not to notice her presence until she said, "Hello?"

The secretary looked up, hair twisted into overly neat gray curls, her cat eyeglasses slipping down her nose as she frowned at Vada. "Can I help you?"

"I'm new," Vada said. "Transferred from out of town?"

Thunder boomed outside of the school, feeling Vada with a feeling of dread; her notebook without the start of her romance novel was in her backpack, the only thing existing being a few notes she scrawled out. "Ah, Yes." The woman turned, typing on her keyboard, and soon a piece of paper printed out while she quickly scribbled something on a stick-it-note. "Here is your schedule and your locker and combination."

"I get my own locker?" Vada asked, looking up, remembering hearing at her old middle school that when she'd become a Freshman at the high school she would have gone into had she not moved, that Freshman wasn't given locker priority.

"Well, of course," the woman said. "It would be foolish not to, right?" The woman pursed her lips together. "I'd think that would mean the school was getting too large for its current population, but that certainly isn't the case; I guarantee you."

"Uh, yes," Vada said, taking her schedule as another boom of thunder echoed through the halls, her eyes on the slip of paper with her locker number and locker combo on it. Stepping out of the front office, she discovered the hallway darkened, the lights flickering slightly, but glancing outside, the wind blew harshly, and rain started falling. She took a sigh, muttering, "A great day to start school."

She turned, looked at the lockers, frowned, wondered what the system for numbering was, and decided to start in the direction of the numbers heading up. After the hallway, the numbers jumped drastically, but a couple of older students who looked like a couple gave her a funny look as if she shouldn't be in that particular hallway.

A quick glance down the other hall—

Vada quickly walked back while the girl let out a sigh, looking frustrated at how Vada interrupted an intimate moment with someone who looked like her boyfriend, the dark, brooding type. "Excuse me."

"Look," the girl said. "I'm not in the mood..."

"I missed Freshman orientation," Vada said. "But you look like an older student. How are the lockers numbered?"

Mr. Dark and Brooding looked up, frowning. "This is the senior hall, doofus."

The blond slapped his arm, shaking her head, then turned to her. "As he said, senior hall means seniors get these numbers, and senior classes are held."

"So, if I were to find my Freshman classes?" Vada said, looking at the other piece of paper.

"Yes," the girl said.

"Freshman classes are in the exact opposite corner of the school," Mr. Dark and Brooding said.

"Thank you," Vada said. "And your names?"

"It's not as if you'll hang with us," the girl said, letting out a sigh.

"Doesn't mean I can't look up to you," Vada said.

Mr. Dark and Brooding let out a snort. "Looking up to you, Tiffany Maddox."

"Shut up," Tiffany snapped, glaring at Mr. Dark and Brooding while Vada watched, even more interested in writing her romance novel. She turned, looking at Vada. "Do me a favor?"

"Yes?" Vada asked.

"Don't tell anyone you saw us together?"

"Secret romance?"

Mr. Dark and Brooding laughed while Tiffany's eyes widened.

"Got it," Vada said, grinning ear to ear. "It's a secret. And thank you!" She turned and hurried off, but not before she heard Tiffany complaining to Mr. Dark and Brooding, who insisted to his girlfriend Vada wouldn't say anything, that—

Whatever he said to convince her went unheard as Vada continued in the direction of the Freshman hallways. As she approached, she found numbers similar to those in her locker, and she found herself grateful upon seeing the spot. She frowned at the blue lockers, noting the lack of brightness and how some paint pealed away.

Quickly, she stowed her backpack into the locker and the things she didn't think she would need, keeping with her the composition notebook and taking with her the binder notebook containing notebook paper and the pencil pouch, all in bright, feminine colors to her liking. The halls remained dim from the storm raging outside.

"Oh!"

Vada's eyes blinked, feeling some level of wetness on her clothes, then she looked at the person in front of her and—

"Sorry," the boy muttered, likely another Freshman. As he moved away, his eyes not seeing her, Vada took in the blond bangs plastering his forehead, his entire body soaked from the storm outside, but the most notable feature—

The teen's blue eyes were the most noticeable feature, and Vana felt her heart flutter.

"Must get to class on time," the boy muttered, sighing.

Vada's eyes blinked, and then she looked at her schedule, hurrying to her first class — English, her favorite subject. She slipped into class, noticing the older lady as well as the clock. She let out a sigh. "What was he talking about? I'm not late."

She shook her head, opening up her composition notebook and reading the few lines she'd scribbled into her notebook the night before. "Love interest other than Nick. Something different for Uncle Phil." Then there was the part she'd rewritten a few times and crossed out about Shelly she didn't want to think about before jotting down what she noticed, what made her heart flutter moments before, and then jotted down as she looked at her English teacher. "Older role model of some kind?"

"Come back to the library," a female voice echoed in her head, causing Vada to shake her head and push it aside.

"Has the bell rung yet?" the teacher asked. "Where are all the students?"

"Not yet," Vada asked, looking up at Mrs. Herkins. "It's also raining pretty bad outside."

"Ah," her teacher said, yet she started into class. Only a few students were there, but the teacher acted as if the bell had already rung despite what Vada said.

Chapter Text

Richard didn’t expect to be caught in the storm, soaked to the bone as he was, trying to wipe his dorky glasses dry with a wet shirt, yet there he was doing just that when he bumped into someone. “Sorry,” he muttered and then moved along. “I must get to class on time.”

His mind didn ’t register who he bumped into, but then, without his glasses, he wouldn ’t be able to see the person’s face, but when he put them on his face—

Richard sighed. “Lovely. It’s better, though.” He then turned to his backpack, grinning ear to ear, unzipping it to peer in at the library books wrapped in a plastic bag, a precaution he’d started taking a long time ago. “Safe!”

“Hey! Hey!”

Richard frowned, looking up as a teacher hurried towards them. The man glared at him. “Sir? I’m not late?”

“The bell hasn’t wrung yet,” the man said, “But you really should…” The man paused. “You look like a drowned rat. Get yourself to the nurses’ office.”

Richard ’s mouth formed a circle. “But class.”

“She’ll write you a note when you get dry clothes on,” the man said. “Other students have common sense to have an umbrella on them.”

“At least my library books are safe,” Richard chirped, grinning ear to ear.

“Oh,” the man said, “One of those.” He placed pressure on Richard’s shoulder. “Off to the nurses’ office with you. Definitely. Don’t want upset mothers calling us because their children get sick and blame us. Oh, no.”

“Oh,” Richard said. “Hadn’t thought of that.” He pushed up his glasses and headed to the nurses’ office, where he knocked on the door frame.

“Can I help…” The woman said, looking up, then, “Oh dear. You look like a drowned rat.”

“So I’ve been told,” Richard said. “My books are safe.”

“Your books?”

“I keep them wrapped in plastic,” Richard said, hearing Adventure and Horror laughing in amusement.

“Perhaps if you’re prepared for the weather regarding your book, you should also be prepared with an umbrella for yourself.”

“Where’s the adventure in that?” he said, still grinning.

“Okay. What is your name?” the nurse said.

“Richard Tyler,” he said, sitting on the bed she motioned for him to sit on.

“Richard Tyler,” she muttered. “Wait right there.”

He waited, using the corner of the bed sheet to dry his glasses properly, thinking nothing of it beyond the fact that the bell rang, resulting in a sigh. “Great. Late on my first day, simply because of the weather.”

He waited a bit longer, and then—

“Richard!”

He looked up, mouth pressed together. “Dad?”

“You look like a drowned rat,” his father sighed, setting a bag next to Richard. “Dry clothes from your mother. She had them toasting in the drier by the time I got home.”

“You didn’t have to take off work.”

“I wouldn’t have to if you didn’t think getting drenched in the rain on your first day of school was some kind of adventure.”

“So the school nurse called you?” Richard asked.

“Said something about caring more about your library books than you do about yourself,” his father said.

“I’ll try to remember an umbrella next time.”

“Your mother is going to make sure you never leave the house without one,” his father said.

Richard frowned. “Why is she suddenly the one being paranoid?”

There came another sigh. “While I love the fact you’re no longer afraid of everything…” His father paused. “Hey. Maybe make some friends this year.”

“I have friends,” Richard said, transfering his books to the bag his father brought.

“Friends other than books, Richard,” his father said.

Richard frowned.

“I know you’re not like me,” his father said. “And that’s okay. I suppose you could consider joining, say, the chess club?

“I’ve got library duties, remember?” Richard commented.

“Yes, I do,” his father said. “Don’t make us take it away. Be more responsible, alright?”

“Fair,” Richard said. “I wasn’t responsible, taking care of my books and not myself.”

“Yes. Well, get changed, and the nurse will write you a note to class,” his father paused, then let out a sigh. “And your first day. What more could go wrong?”

Richard shrugged his shoulders, quickly changing his clothes, and as his father said, the nurse did write him a note to Mrs. Herkins ’ class. He hurried over, not bothering to drop anything off at his locker, and opened the classroom door.

“You’re late!” the teacher said, her mouth pressed into a line as the entire class laughed, except for one girl, busy writing in her notebook, who only looked up upon realizing something interesting had happened.

“I’ve got a note,” Richard said, nearly dropping his bag. “And sorry for being late, ma’am,” which, for some reason, drew more laughs.

The teacher frowned, looking at the note, then sighed and nodded her head. “Take a seat. I’m not starting over.”

He took a seat, finding himself near the girl, who was writing in her notebook. His eyes narrowed, and for some reason, he found her familiar. A wad of paper hit his head, and he turned to hear, “She’s too cute for you, Tyler.”

He shrugged and turned to his notebook, only to pause when one of the students said, “Wait?” I thought she said she wasn’t going to start over.”

Richard looked up at the teacher, frowning, as she ’d indeed started over as if the class had just begun when he entered the room before someone whispered. “She started class before the bell rang and then restarted when it rang.”

“Odd duck,” Richard thought, then he grinned. “What an adventure this will be, her class.”

Adventure seemed to think so, while Horror was his usual scared self, unsure of a teacher who seemed a bit Jekyll and Hyde, reminding Richard of the time they ’d had to deal with those characters.

“I think she’s nothing of the sort. Just a bit…” Richard paused, looking for the words. “Balmy. And note to self. Don’t do anything to have your library privileges revoked. Bad idea.”

He didn ’t think of class or his classmates outside of doing his schoolwork after that, not until the weekend, when he found himself doing a double take when the girl with the notebook entered the library, looking around and seeming somewhat confused. Cynthia sighed. “Thankfully. She’s back.”

“Back?” Richard asked.

“She’s the girl the head librarian scared off,” Cynthia said. “Maybe this time I can convince her to get a library card.”

“Richard,” the head librarian said, having missed the conversation, much like Mrs. Herkins could easily get off on a tangent, resulting in him laughing. “You’re doing your homework.”

“Sometimes twice over, if it’s Mrs. Herkin’s class.”

“She’s still forgetting what she’s assigned already?” Cynthia asked.

“You had her.”

“I think my parents had her. Even possibly the head librarian here.”

“Nonsense. She’s younger than me,” the head librarian said. “Always been an odd duck, though, so don’t think it’s a matter of her memory lapsing.”

“He means she can’t keep track of things,” Cynthia said. “I was shocked to learn how many fines she has from losing library books that go back eons ago. Don’t tell anyone, though.”

“Right,” Richard laughed, zipping his lips to promise he wouldn’t tell on Mrs. Herkins. “Not that there is anybody to tell but the books.”

Chapter Text

“Have you made friends yet?”

Vada looked up at Shelly, mentally rejecting such questions, and didn ’t answer; instead, she went back to finish her homework, her lips pressed together.

Her stepmother sighed. “I’ll take that as a no, then.”

“I don’t see what the big deal is,” Vada said.

“You’re at least trying to fit in?” Shelly asked.

“I’ve never fit in,” Vada muttered.

—silence—

Vada continued writing her story, the sight of the boy with blond bangs plastering his forehead fixated in her mind, becoming the center of her new story instead of—

“You know,” Shelly said. “That’s not why Nick…”

Vada looked up, glaring at her stepmother, silencing whatever Shelly meant to say, and instead received a look of pity, so she thought, as she turned back to finish her homework. Yet, a thought made her hurry and finish the homework rather than waxing poetry on the essay assignment that she was writing a second time for English.

She got up, while Shelly smiled. “What are you in a hurry for, Vada?”

“Uncle Phil,” Vada said, watching her stepmother flinch. “I can call him, right?”

“Yes, but,” Shelly sighed. “I don’t think the conversation is going to go the way you want it to.”

“And what if it does?” Vada sniffed, acting hurt. “What will you do?”

“Oh, we’ll be fine,” Shelly said. “I’m worried for you, though.”

“Sure,” Vada said, going to the phone and dialing her uncle’s phone number.

“Vada,” her uncle said, sounding excited to hear from her. “How’s the new school going?”

“Are you sure I can’t live with you?”

“Vada,” Sherry shook her head.

“You know why,” her uncle Phil said. “But that rough? You haven’t made friends yet.”

Vada gave Sherry a look. “Someone else is pushing that.”

“Making friends isn’t a bad thing. I know that…” There came a pause, and then, “I know things are complicated, with everything that’s happened, but friends go a long way. Does that sound like some sage advice from your Uncle Phil?”

“Hmm,” Vada frowned. “Doesn’t sound sage at all.”

“Yeah, well, your dad…” There came a pause. “Hey? What’s the library like in your town?

“Huge, actually,” Vada said, catching on to the fact that he had changed the topic rather quickly. “Wasn’t expecting that.”

“Bet you already have a library card and are writing up a storm again,” her uncle said.

“Sure,” Vada said. “I’ll let you go, Uncle Phil. Say hello to…” She paused, swallowing.

“I get it. I’ll say hello, but in a way that’s hopefully not too awkward, given…”

“Yeah. Forget it. Don’t tell Nick I called,” Vada said. “As you said, awkward.” She hung up the phone, not giving her uncle a chance to say goodbye or not saying goodbye herself.

“Well, that’s rather rude,” her stepmother said. “At least give a proper goodbye.”

“I’m going to the library. “ Homework is already finished before you ask,” Vada said, hurrying to grab her notebook. But the moment she exited the house, she found herself glad the weather remained nice. And she couldn’t shake the feeling of that voice, which kept calling to her, telling her to return to the library. “The last thing I need is voices in my head, though. People already think I’m batty, particularly…”

She brushed aside thoughts of Nick and hurried along the path to the library, having memorized it and arrived.

The vast size—

“Still amazing,” she murmured, taking in the front foyer. She took a deep breath and walked over to the front desk, finally deciding to muster the courage to get a library card. “Do I need to anyway for school, right?”

“Hello!” The head librarian said.

“I’ll handle this,” the woman with Cynthia on her name tag said, pushing in. “Hello. Do you have a library card?”

“Right,” Vada said, then looked at the boy with glasses. “What?”

“Nothing,” he muttered, looking away, while—

Vada couldn ’t place what the feeling in the back of her head was, and instead, she listened to Cyhntia explain the system before having her sign her card. Vada took a deep breath, looking around again.

“Daunting?” the head librarian said, then, he pointed. “Romance section is that way.”

“How,” Vada said, then glared at the boy who snickered, shaking her head and pursing her lips. “Just so you know, it’s not because I’m a girl…”

“But you aim to write a romance novel, no?”

“Sir,” Cynthia said as Vada stared wide-eyed. “No scaring the patrons with your gift.”

“Gift?” Vada felt the corner of her mouth twitch.

“He’s actually pretty good,” the boy piped up, Mr. No-Name-Tag likely because he was a minor. “At telling what genre someone wants when they walk in.”

“You’re a bit all over the place, though,” the head librarian said.

“Everything but romance,” the boy sighed. “I know, I know.”

Vada let out a huff, then scurried off, still perturbed at how the man knew she wanted to write a romance novel, heading straight for the—

And then she stopped, letting out a sigh. “Oh. I didn’t think…”

She stood there, notebook in her arms, staring at the vast section of Romance, thinking that it'd be a small section, given that most people considered romance novels literary trash, or so she ’d heard plenty of adults say.

Vada took a deep breath, took a step forward, then hesitated.

“Come on!” A voice said. “Pick me up already!”

Vada sucked in her breath and headed to one of the desks instead, deciding to work on her romance novel again, pulling out the notebook and the pen she stuck instead, her mind still fixated on that boy with blond hair plastered against his forehead. She began writing the description of the love interest for her romance novel.

She frowned, pen hovering. “He’s different than Nick, right?”

“Most certainly.”

Vada ’s eyes widened, then she looked up, then—

She completely stiffened, slowly moving the chair away so that there came an audible scraping, which she suspected the other patrons had noticed, yet she felt she must look like an utter fool.

“Or a madman.”

“You’re not mad,” the thing said, which, upon observation, looked like a humanoid book, with a pinkish color, blonde hair, and blue eyes that fluttered as if Vada were the romance target. And I like the love interest in your book! More of it, please?”

“What?” Vada’s eyes blinked; her jaw dropped. “What is going on here?”

“Oh! I’m Romance, by the way.”

“Sure,” Vada said, feeling skeptical and looking around in hopes nobody thought her loony. But nobody, was thankfully around, which meant—

She took a deep breath.

“I can turn my attention to this figment of my imagination and banish it, right?” Vada swallowed. “I mean, right? It’s just my imagination going wild because of everything that’s happened. Right?”

Again, she swallowed.

“This is not what I was looking for when I came to the library.”

Chapter Text

“Well?”

“This can’t be happening,” Vada swallowed, and the way Romance was acting, “She’s just like all those gossipy girls I’d prefer not to hang out with, yet I’ll likely be one of them if they confuse me for being one of them because I’m blond.”

“Shall we continue writing,” Romance said, batting her blond eyelashes at Vada. “Or shall we look up Romance books for inspiration?”

“You’re not real,” Vada muttered, nearly choking out the words. “You’re not…”

“I’m very real!” Romance snapped, standing on her two feet, then stomping one of them, which—

Vada glanced around, her face flushed, not wanting anyone to think she ’d succumbed to some kind of madness, not after—

“Well?”

“That…”

The sound of people whispering as they approached the desks made Vada look up. Then, she grabbed Romance, the thing that shouldn ’t be real, in a way she could grasp, and scurried off towards the romance stacks, tucking Romance under her arm.

“This is a nightmare,” Vada thought to herself.

“Oh. Good. We’re getting a book for inspiration,”

“No, no, we’re not,” Vada choked out, leaning against one of the stacks, hoping nobody could hear her.

“And could you not carry me under your arm?” Romance said. “I’m a lady, you know.”

“That,” Vada pulled Romance out, frowning as she did so. “Go away.”

“Stuck with you,” Romance said, grinning. “Sorry!”

“What?”

“I choose you!” And then Romance paused. “Wait. What’s your name?”

“Vada,” and then, “What am I saying? You’re not real.”

“Yes, I am. Let’s pick a book to inspire you.”

“I’m not going to plagiarize,” Vada blurted out.

Romance frowned, then, “So, I may be a bit daft. Adventure always says so before running away.”

“What?” Vada squeaked out. “Adventure?”

“The other books don’t seem to like me of late,” Romance said. “I think.”

“Is this some dream I’m having? Like, did I fall asleep, and my stepmom told me to make friends…”

“Not sure what you’re babbling about,” Romance said. “But let’s focus on me, my genre, which is the best genre out there, right.”

“Well, of course, it is,” Vada said. “Isn’t it what every girl dreams of?” She then paused, remembering how things went with Nick and her last story.

“Have more confidence in yourself,” Romance said. “But as I was saying. Wait? What was I saying?”

“Something about plagiarism and inspiration?”

“Yes! I’ve heard those are two very different things!”

“And the difference is?”

“I honestly couldn’t tell you,” Romance said. “I don’t have a brain.”

“I believe that’s the scarecrow from Wizard of Oz.”

Romance frowned. “And not a Romance, but from the sounds of it, that’s Fantasy.”

“You talk as if the genre,” Vada said.

“Well, the library…” Romance said.

There came a pause, then—

“The library,” Romance repeated.

“I’m not following,” Vada said firmly.

“Oh. The magic of the library,” then Romance muttered. “Stupid Fantasy. But, without the magic…”

Vada unceremoniously dropped Romance and let out a deep breath. “Enough. I’m done with the delusions.”

“Hey!” Romance said. “You can’t just…”

“Watch me,” Vada said, turning and walking away to who knew where.”

Romance sighed, hurrying after her. “I wouldn’t just walk off if I were…”

Vada ’s eyes blinked, then she turned, her mouth forming a circle as she looked at the vanished stacks and what appeared to be the streets of London, or something similar to those of the Victorian era, she presumed, with people dressed in clothing that walked about. “I really have gone insane.”

“No,” Romance said, hurrying up, tugging at the hem of Vada’s jeans. “We’re in one of the books.”

“What?”

“I don’t like…”

Vada reached down, picking up Romance. “You mean to say, the magic of the library lets people enter books?”

“Well, yes, but…” Romance glanced around. “Not this one.”

“Not this one? We’re not here because of you?” Vada said, walking along as the sunset. She paused, watching a man courting a woman, and let out a sigh. “It’s a classic.” And then she shook her head, patting her cheek, closing her eyes tightly. “No. It’s been done. You’ve got to do something new, something original.”

“Plagiarism versus inspiration,” Romance piped up.

“You said you can’t explain that,” Vada said, then, “They don’t notice I’m not…”

“I think you look like them?” Romance said.

“What?”

“I’m repeating what Sci-Fi told me once.”

“Yuck,” Vada frowned. “Do you have an original thought?”

“Hmm…”

“You were saying something about not liking something. And then that the magic didn’t let us enter the books.”

“No! No!” Romance said. “I remember. I don’t like this book.”

“But it’s romance, right?”

“More along the lines…” Romance muttered, getting easily distracted as the sunset. “I don’t like this book.”

“Why?” Vada asked. “Why do you not like this book, if Romance is involved.”

“Involved, yes, but…”

“Why, hello,” a voice said, sending a shiver down Vada’s spine.

“Don’t,” Romance muttered. “Don’t turn around.”

She turned, though, the voice drawing her, as if like a moth to the flame, her heart pounding, and she saw—

She let out a gasp, taking in the pale features and recognizing the person in front of her; her heart instantly fluttered at the sight of him appearing. Romance tugged at her shirt, “Hey, hey!”

Vada ignored her, entranced by his eyes.

“Don’t look in the eyes!” Romance said, changing colors from blue and pink to purple and black, her hair shifting from brown to neon pink.

“It’s him,” Vada said, a flush spreading across her face. “The boy.”

Blond bangs hung over her pale skin, framing red eyes that, in the back of her mind, she knew she had described as a very different color. Meanwhile, his lips were a blood red rather than the pleasant rose color, but she knew, knew very well, who stood before her. Romance tugged some more. “You don’t know him. He’s not…” Romance rolled her eyes. “Okay, reality is relative in the library.”

“It’s Thomas,” Vada said, swallowing, remembering how she’d described Tomas J. Sennet in her notebook, a notebook she'd left on the desk, yet right now, she didn’t care as she looked into Thomas’s eyes, fully and completely transfixed.

She took a step forward, his hand beckoning for her to come closer, begging her to let him kiss her neck rather than her lips with those blood-red lips of his. She didn ’t care that the way his mouth twisted seemed wrong or that Romance spluttered. “No. You can’t, Vada. This isn’t what you think. It’s corrupting…”

“Hello, Vada,” Thomas said. “My love.”

“Thomas, right?” Vada said, letting out a deep breath, completely and utterly entranced by his looks.

“Thomas J. Dracula,” he said.

Vada ’s eyes blinked; her mind registered the fact that his name had somehow changed, yet her mind didn’t care because the romantic interest she’d written about was there , in front of her.

“Well, that’s new,” Romance muttered. “Corrupted magic.”

Chapter Text

Horror shuddered.

Richard thought nothing of it, as Horror often shuddered at the most minor things, reminding him of when he was younger and did practically the same thing.

Instead, he moved on, putting various books away, noting the ones he hadn't yet read to check out at a later date, while Adventure shook his hook at Horror to admonish him. Yet, had he paid attention to the way Fantasy looked around, lips pushed together, he might have thought something amiss.

As things stood, everything seemed like a typical day at the library, rather than one of the more eventful and adventurous ones, where he would dive into a book towards the end of the day, sometimes accompanied by other Genres or even Cynthia, who were good friends with Comedy and Tragedy.

“I guess she counts as a friend, through the shared experience,” Richard thought. “But I dare not tell my parents that, as they wouldn’t get it. Someone my own age, though…”

Richard paused, frowning at the notebook sitting on the desk, then looked around. Adventure let out a snort. “What’s the matter?”

“That girl,” Richard said. “She left her notebook. Seems a bit odd.”

“What child your age, other than yourself, likes studying?” Adventure scoffed, then lifted his eyepatch. “Not that studying is a bad thing. It’s actually a good thing, right?”

“Yes, it is,” Fantasy said, still looking around.

“She seemed,” Richard said. “Didn’t she seem a bit different, Fantasy?” He turned to the pink fairy book. “The notebook is important, no?”

Fantasy stared off, frowning, while Horror let out another shudder. Adventure sighed. “Perhaps the miss ended up going to the bathroom. No, messing with females and their worries, you know.”

“I guess,” Richard said, looking at the notebook.

“No,” Fantasy said, causing Adventure to glare at her. “The horror genre is active, and the poor girl’s been drawn in.”

“What?” Richard stiffened, then he quickly grabbed the notebook and pen, tucking them under his arm, while proceeding to place Horror on his shoulder. “Which way, do you think?”

Adventure scoffed, hurrying after Richard. “Surely they’re over exaggerating…”

“Where’s your sense of adventure, Adventure?” Richard asked.

“Toche,” Adventure said, grabbing onto Richard’s pant leg and climbing his way up to Richard’s other shoulder as Horror pointed in the direction, shuddering again.

“And this is different,” Fantasy said. “Can’t you feel it?”

“What?” Adventure asked.

“Something is wrong with the library’s magic,” Fantasy said. “Can’t you feel it?”

“Perhaps you are more attuned because of your genre?” Richard postulated.

“Yes, that,” Adventure sniffed, rubbing his nose, then stared at his hook, realizing he’d rubbed his nose with it.

“That way,” Horror said.

“The Romance section?” Richard said, darting in, as Adventure…

“Oh, no! Not her!” the book said as they found themselves warped into another time. “Anybody but her. She’s worse than Horror.”

“She’s nice,” Horror said. “Though she really, really hates me.”

“You’re a delight,” Fantasy said, letting out a hum.

“Well, if the magic is messed up, of course Romance would be…”

Fantasy flew over, hitting Adventure on the top of his head with her wand. “That’s not nice!”

“But probably true.”

Richard took a deep breath. “No time. I’ve got to find her. I mean, this is her first time in the books, because she can’t access them without a library card, right?

“Well, not until the first signing,” Fantasy said.

“Remember?” Horror said. “When you’ve lost yours?”

Richard sighed, pushing forward. “No time. No time at…” And then he froze, frowning at the sight of a blond-haired vampire. “Please tell me this isn’t Twilight. ”

“What’s Twilight?” Adventure asked.

Horror frowned, looking confused. “I don’t know.”

“But it involves vampires,” Richard said. “And girls love it, apparently. I just don’t want to have to deal with diamond-skinned vampires. That’s got to be worse than dealing with Dracula again.”

“And yet isn’t horror, but more my genre,” Fantasy said. “This is not that sparkling-infested wannabe fairies who call themselves anything but fae.”

“Huh?” Adventure narrowed his eyes. “I am lost.”

“It is Dracula,” Horror said.

Richard frowned. “That, but?” He frowned, remembering having entered the book before, multiple times, to battle things out with a black-haired vampire, not a blond one.

Far more important, though, that vampire had the girl in his arms and was leaning over to kiss her neck, which meant--

Taking a deep breath, he bent over and grabbed a rock, flinging it at the back of the vampire ’s head. Adventure’s voice strained. “Oi. You think that’s a good idea, Richard, using stones against vampires?”

“Probably not,” Richard said, straightening up, planning on running, his eyes starting to look for some stake, only to pause when—

Fantasy ’s eyes blinked. “Huh. Is it me, or…”

“Nope,” Richard choked out. “That vampire does look like me without glasses. Why?”

“I bloody don’t…” Adventure said, then—

For some reason, Adventure fell off Richard ’s shoulder, laughing. Horror frowned. “Now’s not the time.”

“Bloody Romance!”

“Help, please!” came a feminine voice. “Before Vada gets turned into a vampire for life.”

“I’m sure that wouldn’t happen,” Fantasy said.

“Haven’t you felt it?”

Richard glanced around out of the corner of his eye, catching sight of the vampire moving towards him, having let go of Vada. “Who dares disturb Count Thomas J. Dracula’s taking of a new bride?”

“So,” Richard muttered. “Not actually me?”

“Now isn’t…” Fantasy said, in time for Richard to dodge a lunge, reaching out and grabbing for anything to drive into the horrid creature’s chest.

And then—

“Wait? Where did Thomas go?”

Richard remained hunched over, eyes closed. Adventure tugged on his jeans. “You can open your eyes now, lucky you.”

He did and turned, looking at the stake in his hand, frowning. Then he looked at Vada and …

There was a book with her, a pink book with blond hair that looked like it could be Fantasy ’s cousin, that fluttered her eyes at him. “Yuck,” he muttered, shaking his head. “What’s wrong with…”

“He stabbed him!” the book said, pointing at Richard, grinning ear to ear.

“Why?” Vada asked. “Why did you do that?”

“Because, you know, Dracula, The Dracula,” Richard said, then sighed, looking up to see the ceiling of the library appearing. “Well, a corrupted version of him, I guess.” He muttered. “At least it wasn’t Twilight.”

“Excuse me?” Vada said.

“Ooh,” Romance said, fluttering her eyes. “Good romance!” she exclaimed, before a blue hue appeared on her part, and her hair turned brown. “Is not!”

Vada turned, staring at Romance, while Richard stood there, taken aback by the strange occurrence as Romance's hair turned back to pink and blond, fluttering her eyes again. “What…”

“It may not be my thing,” Vada said, “But that doesn’t mean you’ve got to…”

“Diamond-skinned vampires!” Richard blurted out, holding his hands, as he dropped the stake he had somehow managed to luck out and find. “So I’ve heard.”

“Yeah. Twilight isn’t that kind of book,” Vada said.

“Yeah,” Romance said. “It’s not horror!” And then she narrowed her eyes. “Why is Horror with you?” And then she gasped, pointing an accusing finger. “Is that why? Is that why we got pulled into a horror book with romance elements?”

“Bloody,” Adventure muttered. “And this is why you’re a nuisance.”

Horror let out a sniffle. “Maybe it is my fault?”

“Nonsense,” Fantasy said. “But you, young lady, that vampire…”

“Seriously, what is…” And then the color drained from her face. “Wait.” She pointed. “You. Can you hear?”

“Oh, let me introduce you,” Richard said, turning to Horror first. “This is…”

“No. No, thank you,” Vada said, then she looked down. “Wait? What are you doing with my notebook?”

Richard said. “Oh. You left it, so…”

“You didn’t read any of it?”

“Well, no?” Richard said. “That would be rude.”

“We were just coming to find you,” Horror muttered.

“And good thing we did, dear,” Fantasy said

Vada hurried forward, grabbing the notebook before rushing away, Romance saying she should stay.

Adventure narrowed his eyes. “Bloody Romance and her split personality. This is why I bloody don’t like her.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Romance is a genre that, well, has shifted,” Fantasy said. “Well, all genres shift with the times, but Romance has had it harder than others.”

“Don’t make excuses for her,” Adventure muttered. “It’s likely her fault all this magic is messing up, only for her to blame poor Horror.”

“So, not my fault?” Horror asked.

“No, dear,” Fantasy sighed.

“The question is,” Richard swallowed. Why did Dracula resemble me? But without glasses?”

Chapter Text

“I’m not going insane,” Vada thought to herself, the memory of what happened in the library remaining too raw for her to process, not to mention she kept hearing the voice of that anthropomorphic book in her head, asking for her to go back, and yet—

Vada took a deep breath, remembering how her character from her story came to life before her. However, she hadn ’t expected Thomas J. Sennet to introduce himself as Thomas J. Dracula, or for him to be a vampire. She looked at her story as she sat at the desk in her room, scanning what she had written, seeing no hints of fantastical, let alone horror elements.

She sighed, finally closing her composition notebook and glancing at the window. “I have to admit. Falling for a vampire probably wasn’t a good thing. I think.”

Except—

At the end of the day, she wasn ’t sure, given that there existed all kinds of vampires, though a voice in the back of her head that wasn’t the anthropomorphic book she’d run into at the library and sounded instead like her voice said the vampire she encountered leaned more towards the horror genre. This genre personally grossed her out and wasn’t her cup of tea.

She picked up her notebook and headed downstairs. She saw her stepmother, who was feeding her little brother, and stared until Shelly looked up at her. “Do you Need something?” she asked.

“No,” Vada said. “I don’t think so.” She paused. “Unless you think I can go live with—“

“You know why,” her stepmother said, shaking her head. “You need to form relationships here, at least try to. I know your dad’s not around, and you’ve got me.” Shelly paused, her eyes blinking. “You know, now that I think of that, that really doesn’t sound exciting. I wish I could change things for you, Vada, but I can’t. You know I can’t.”

She took a sigh. “I know.”

“Try to make friends.”

Vada frowned, shaking her head, not thrilled at the idea of making friends at school, let alone going back there, except for her English class, as she ’d become fond of her teacher despite her teacher’s eccentric behaviors. The next school day, she arrived, walking in with her backpack on her back and composite notebooks in her arms.

And then she saw Tiffany Maddox speaking with other girls and almost opened her mouth.

But then—

She frowned. Shaking her head, she decided it was better to head past.

After all—

She saw the cheerleader outfit that the Maddox girl wore as well as the popular clothes that the other girls wore, while remembering how the Maddox girl didn ’t want her divulging her romance with Mr. Dark and Brooding. “ I ’m also a Freshman and she’s a senior, so it would be very presumptuous for me, the new girl, to walk up to the girl who looks to be the most popular girl in the school. ”

“Hey, Sultenfuss?”

Vada froze, then looked up at the girl who called out to her, recognizing the girl and the girls she was with as some of her classmates. She opened her mouth, wanting to ask them what they wanted.

“What kind of name is Sultenfuss?”

Vada ’s mouth snapped shut. “ Right. These girls are the popular type who will bully any girl they don ’t deem suitable to their social circle, but this is why I didn’t want to make friends, let alone be the new girl who didn’t have a friend group the first day of school. ”

“Sultry?” one of the other girls said.

“Do you even know what that word means?” Vada blurted out, her love of the English language kicking in.

“Don’t be so high and mighty with yourself,” the girl sneered. “Go and sulk elsewhere.”

Vada shrugged her shoulders. “ And you don ’t know what the words mean, because it doesn’t mean sulk. ” She moved to the side in an attempt to walk around them. “ Avoid and conquer. Just get to class, and pretend to be heading to sulk elsewhere. ”

“Hey! We’re talking to you!” the first girl said, glaring at her.

“You told me to go elsewhere,” Vada said, keeping hold of her composition notebook.

“We meant to go home to your step-mom. Move with her back to wherever you came from,” the girl said, glaring at her.

“What?” Vada sucked in her breath. “How?”

“It’s a small town,” the girl said. “Everybody knows that you moved here with your step-mother, but you must be quite the loser not to have any family who wanted to take you in.”

“You don’t,” Vada started saying, gritting her teeth. “You know nothing.”

“Well, scat. Go—“

“Knock it off.”

The girls froze, looking behind Vada.

Vada turned, frowning, then her eyes widened. “Oh. You?”

“Rather nasty of you, talking about her family life like that,” Tiffany Maddox snapped. “As she said, you don’t know her?”

The girls froze, with the first saying, “Yes, but?”

“Didn’t you just pick her because she’s the new girl?” one of Tiffany’s friends asked.

“Sultenfuss?” one of the other girls with Tiffany asked. “Isn’t her step-mom the new girl at the salon. You know, the one that I switched to doing my nails with.”

“Oh!” Tiffany’s second friend said. “The one with the baby? He’s adorable.”

“He is,” Vada says. “And he’s my little brother.” And then she glanced away. “I don’t want to be a part of the popular crowd, but myself.” She sighed. “Sorry. I just want to get to class. Nglish is my favorite.”

“Loser.”

“Knock it off,” Tiffany said. “So they didn’t want to separate her and her little brother. Makes you all look like major losers for mocking her for that, doesn’t it?”

“Now scat. To your classes,” the second girl said.

And then they headed away, while Vada frowned. She let out a deep breath, then turned. “I owe you a thank you.”

“I just don’t like someone trying to be the queen bee instead of me, got it?”

“Got it,” Vada said, letting out a deep breath and turning to head to class. She didn’t get far when she felt someone grab her arm, and she turned, seeing Tiffany. “What?”

“Just so you know, that was for not ratting me and Brice Blackwell out.”

Vada frowned, then said. “I get it. You don’t want people to know you’re actually a nice person.”

“Excuse me?” Tiffany said.

“Because you don’t have to save me. I know my place,” Vada said. “I really need to get to class.”

Tiffany let go of her arm, and Vada headed to class. Their teacher was busy looking out the window, as if she were expecting it to rain. She slid into her desk and waited, scribbling in her book, but then stiffened upon seeing a certain boy enter the classroom, heading to a nearby seat.

“Library boy is in my class?” She looked down. “I do owe him an apology and a thank you, right? I mean, he was right that the vampire version of my character was likely dangerous, and he did save me, but…” Vada sighed, going back to her writing. “He’s not Thomas J. Sennet, perfectly imperfect.”

And then came the clatter, as someone knocked the nerd boy over, and he simply looked at him.

“Excuse me?” Mrs. Herkins called out. “Do I have to send you the office. “I won’t have students misbehaving in my class, and I don’t care that the class hasn’t started.”

“So today she knows that class hasn’t started,” Vada thought to herself, wondering if the bell would ring and their teacher would space out on the class being in session. “I hope not, because I love her takes on the classics.”

Her eyes blinked, a thought crossing her mind, and class started.

When class ended, she approached her teacher. “Mrs. Herkins?”

“Yes, dear?”

“What kind of book is Dracula? Is it? I don’t know. Too scary?”

“Well, it is scary, I guess,” her teacher said. “It’s been the source for many a good horror film, and not so good ones as well.”

“Then Dracula was a dangerous vampire.”

“In the vast majority of tales, yes,” the woman said. “And in the original, he was most certainly a complete monster.”

“Thanks,” Vada said. I'm still not sure I should check it out or not, but thank you.” She headed away. “Then I do owe that kid an apology as well as a thank you.”

Chapter Text

Vada arrived home from school in a better mood than when she left, but when she saw her step-mother, “You’re actually smiling. Does this mean you’ve made friends?”

“Well, no,” Vada said, going to the refrigerator and getting out her baby brother’s food before taking a seat at the kitchen table. “How did work go today?”

“It went well,” Shelly said. “Quite a few like how I do nails and makeup, but it pays the bills.”

“I thought selling the mortuary paid for the bills.”

“I’d rather save the money for other things, such as college for you, or your wedding day. That’s all a bit too far away for this little one, but you should be able to have whatever your dreams desire when you become an adult.”

“I want to be a writer,” Vada said, which resulted in Shelly giving her a look. “I know. I know. I need a job to hold me over, and I’m still thinking of what that might be, but I’ve just started high school.”

“High school goes by fast,” her stepmother said, starting dinner. “I was hoping you’d have made friends.”

“I didn’t,” Vada said, “But one of the seniors stood up for me. A few of them did. One of them really likes how you do nails, and another thought my little brother is cute.”

“Wait? Why did they have to stand up for you?”

Vada stiffened, then she looked at Shelly. “It’s gotten around that you’re my step-mom and that dad’s not around.”

“It’s not his fault,” Shelly said. “And at the end of the day, your uncle and I didn’t want to separate you and your brother.” She paused, then took a deep breath. “Though, are you ready to talk about the other reason?”

“No,” Vada said. “I don’t want to talk about broken hearts.”

“Funny, coming from someone wanting to write romance novels.”

“I’m going to write something different,” Vada said. She then paused, looking at Shelly. “I forgot.”

“What?”

“To ask Mrs. Herkins if Dracula counts as a romance?”

Shelly frowned. “Where did you get that idea from? Last I checked, is Dracula in the horror genre?”

“I thought so,” Vada said, frowning. “Which is another question I have to ask.” She took a deep breath. “After I am done, I think I’ll head to the library.”

“Oh?” Shelly said. “Perhaps you can make a friend there?”

“You really are hopeful regarding the friend thing, aren’t you?”

“Well, having me and your little brother isn’t the same as having someone your age, you know.”

“I got that,” Vada said, helping to finish feeding her younger brother before setting the table so she and Shelly could eat dinner. After dinner, she took a deep breath and stepped outside, breathing in the fresh air of the small town, her composition notebooks clutched to her chest.

She then stepped forward, towards the library, many questions on her mind while wondering if the boy would be there. “ He ’s able to see the talking books as well, ” she thought to herself. “ Which I ’m still not sure of. ”

“You returned.”

Vada stiffened, turning to see Romance watching her, jumping up and down in excitement. “Oh. It’s you.” She frowned, then said, “I’m going to ignore you now.”

“Hey! Hey!” Romance hurried after her as Vada headed into the central area with the hood that she looked up at, frowning. “Don’t ignore me.”

“Romance isn’t covered up there, is it?”

Romance looked up, frowning, then—

Vada flinched upon seeing Romance change colors, taking on a more Emo coloring that she ’d taken on before. “What the?”

“Dark romanticism,” Romance blurted out. “Now that was a different era of literature.”

Vada frowned. “And I haven’t a clue what you’re talking about?” She took a deep breath. “By the way. Dracula isn ’t a romance.”

“Interesting story there,” Romance started saying.

“Are you saying Romance doesn’t know its own genre?”

“Well, there is a romance, and there are romantic elements in the novel,” Romance called out.

“Yes, but that isn’t a romance novel, right?” Vada said, flinching as others looked at her, making her suddenly doubt the fact that the other teen had happened to see them while hoping she might run into him and prove that she wasn’t going insane.

“I’ve got a rather sordid history, to be honest,” Romance said, remaining black and purple as she had the other day. “It’s hard to explain, hard to explain. I used to get along so much better with Adventure. Now there is a romantic, dashing figure.”

“Eww,” Vada grimaced. “Romance between the genres? I can’t imagine what blending them would be like.” She then sighed, continuing to look around, before going and leaning against a stack of books, arms folded. “Well, this is frustrating?”

“How so?”

“I came here to see that boy, to find out more about what is going on,” Vada said, frowning at Romance. “Why am I even seeing you?” She paused, eyes blinking. “Would I be able to ask you why I can see you? Or would the answer be a figment of my imagination?”

“That boy could see me, remember?”

“Yes, but,” Vada sighed, shaking her head before going to a table, deciding it would be better to work on her writing. “Oh, never mind.” She opened up her composition notebook, her pencil hovering over the lines. “Better this than people staring at me because I’m talking to a book that doesn’t even exist.”

“Anyways,” Romance continued to chatter. “I really can’t answer your question on why certain people are or aren’t able to see us. I guess I’m just that ditzy. I’ve kind of become ditzy in recent years, but back in the day…”

“Ignore her. Ignore her,” Vada thought to herself, continuing to write her story, only to pause, for a moment, thinking of her previous story, which involved her uncle, his girlfriend, and her girlfriend’s son. She looked up at Romance.

Romance continued to ramble, moving onto random subjects, trying to say what her favorite kind of romantic relationship happened to be, only to slip into saying the same thing over and over again, as if she ’d become a broken record, and making Vada feel even more as if she were going insane.

Vada frowned, drawing a picture of Romance in her journal, though at the end of the day, she did better at writing rather than drawing. However, she managed to draw something that resembled Romance in her mind and then scribbled out Romance ’s mouth.

Upon finishing, she looked up and saw Romance still babbling away, though she could still hear her without looking up. Romance noticed and turned to look at Vada. “What?”

“You’d think that it would have worked if you were a figment of my imagination?”

“Figment of the imagination?” Romance muttered. “Why does that sound familiar? I believe it is somehow tied to how this library works, but in that they don’t work the way people think they do when it involves the magic of the library? At least I think? What is a figment of one’s imagination?”

“Something they’ve made up.”

“Well, all fiction is made up,” Romance said. She then paused. “All fiction is made up.” And then, “All fiction is made up.” She paused. “I’m supposed to go somewhere here, but I’m not sure.”

“Well,” Vada frowned. “I guess some imaginary things are silly.”

“Yes!” Romance said. “Lots of silly things.” She paused. “I’m not always like this, by the way. Sometimes I have a better grip on reality.”

“A better grip?” Vada said, looking around, wondering if anybody noticed her, only to notice—

She let out a deep breath, noticing she had found herself in a room and was no longer in the library.

“I really shouldn’t lecture Romance about not having a grip on reality right now,” she thought.

Chapter Text

Looking around the room she found herself in, Vada recognized the furniture as the antique kind, though for the life of her she knew she would never be able to place the era. One of the pieces of furniture was an antique bed, while the other was an antique vanity and yet another an antique wardrobe, “ Meaning this is a bedroom. ”

She walked over to the wardrobe and opened up the doors to reveal servants ’ clothing from some bygone era, which resulted in her sighing. She noted mentally the exists of a window and a door, to which she tried the door only to find said door locked.

“Meaning the only thing that exists is the window,” Vada thought as she peered out the window, frowning upon seeing that the bedroom she found herself in was far up. She turned, looking at Romance. “What have you gotten me into this time?”

“Me?” Romance pointed at herself. “I don’t have control over this. We genre do not have control over the library.”

“Well, at least tell me what book I’ve found myself in this time,” Vada said, glaring at the talking book, placing her hands on her hips.

“Cinderella.”

Vada stared, then let out a deep breath, before looking out the window. “So, in other words, the classic fairytale romance?”

“With blood and gore?”

Vada ’s eyes widened, turning to look at Romance, who grinned ear to ear, taking on a pink and brown color as Vada’s mouth opened. “What do you mean by blood and gore? This isn’t the horror genre, you know.”

“Did I say blood and gore?” Romance said, touching a finger to her lip. “I do believe I did.” And then her tone of voice changed, and her colors flashed, annoying Vada. “Because the original Grimm fairy tale had blood and gore!”

“Say what?” Vada frowned.

“You didn’t know?”

“So you’re telling me what?” Vada asked. “Am I going to have my foot chopped off?”

“Well, more like—“

“Cinderella!” came a voice that sounded familiar.

“Cinderella!” came another person.

“Cinderella!”

Vada flinched upon hearing the last person speak. “Wait? Is Shelly the evil stepmother? Shelly isn’t evil.”

She took a deep breath, thinking of telling them she couldn ’t come out, but then thought to open the locked door, heading out of her room and down the stairs, dressed far more modern than what an old-fashioned fairy tale called for.

“Cinderella!”

Vada pivoted to a stop, realizing she ’d left her notebook back in the room rather than bringing it with her, which made her want to turn to go back, only for the path to close and look the same as what she’d been going down. “What is this? Alice and Wonderland?”

“What’s it?” Romance said, making absolutely no sense at all.

Vada frowned, heading towards the voices calling for her. “This reminds me too much of the classic Cinderella.”

“Funny. Why do I think we’re thinking of different versions of Cinderella as the classic?” Romance said, hurrying behind her.

Vada arrived in a room she couldn ’t for the life of her name and let out a deep breath, seeing her step-mother dreseed in an old fashioned dress, waving a fan in front of her face. “Take care of your step-half-sisters?”

“I’m quite sure step-half-sisters are in none of the versions,” Vada said.

“Oh,” Romance said. “I don’t think so either. Which does this mean that the magic is going haywire again?”

“Cinderealla!”

Vada glared at Shelly, then looked at the three stepsisters. Her eyes blinked, her mouth opening like a fish out of water. “ Three? ”

At first, she saw the faces of the girls who bullied her on all three stepsisters, right before they flickered to Tiffany and her friends.

Vada let her eyes open and close, her mouth twisting into a frown upon seeing the three girls who bullied her, looking more like adults than they really were, this time their faces not flashing to that of Tiffany and her friends. “Great.”

“Cinderella dressed in yellow,” one of the girls said, who was dressed in yellow.

“Fellow, fellow,” said the one dressed in orange.

“Go kiss a snake,” said the one dressed in green.

“Are they broken records?” Vada asked.

“Well, something is broken in the library, but I’m not sure what it is.” Romance said. “Perhaps it is me? I mean, some say I’m a harmful genre. Some say I’m all about sex. What, though, am I about?”

Vada frowned, looking at the genre. “Shouldn’t I be the one here on a journey of self-discovery, not you?”

“Huh,” the book said. “I honestly don’t know. I lost my identity a long time ago.”

“What do you…”

“Clean, clean!” the three sisters started saying, stomping their feet.

The one dressed in yellow. “Cinderella dressed in yellow.”

“You keep saying that.”

“Clean, clean!”

“Cinderella dressed in yellow, couldn’t be loved by her family, and couldn’t be loved by the prince.”

“He sent a letter,” the one in green said. “I shall marry him!”

“No, I!”

“But I!”

“Clean, clean and clean!” Shelly called out, “Until your fingers are to the bone! Clean the dresses and make sure your step-half-sisters are ready for the ball, you dirty loser Cinderella.”

Vada let out a sigh. “I prefer Dracula to this.”

“I don’t,” Romance said, then she paused. “Though I do have to admit that he isn’t much of a choice.”

“And how do I get out of this?”

“Clean, clean, clean?”

Vada frowned, shaking her head. “Follow the tale, and get out of the tale.” Rolling up her sleeves, she grabbed a bucket of water and started scrubbing the floors. She kept going at it while her step-sisters, who called themselves step-half-sisters, walked away. She kept cleaning the hall, moving through the long stretch, only—

Vada paused, wiping her brow before going and looking at the hall. She sat up straighter, her mouth forming a circle, and saw a hall that looked like it had gone on forever. Yet, looking back, she saw the same thing. “Definitely getting Alice in Wonderland vibes here? What exactly is going on?”

“Well, Cinderella is supposed to go to the ball,” Romance said.

“Why do I think, if Cinderella doesn’t go to the ball, that she won’t be able to get out of this story?”

“I don’t know,” Romance said. “I’ve honestly never…” There came a pause in what she said. “I’m sorry, Vada, but I’ve never been in this situation. I don’t know if dying in the stories will kill you, because the library always keeps the readers safe as they progress through tales.”

“I’ll try to continue cleaning,” Vada said, going back to scrubbing, yet when she looked up again, she sighed. “It looks like I’ve made no progress at all, as if this hall is forever.”

Standing up, she grabbed the pale and threw it outside the nearby door, to which—

Vada let out a gasp. “Thomas J. Sennet.”

“That’s Prince Thomas J. Sennett to you,” the prince said, holding his nose in the air.

“What have you done?” Shelly hurried forward. “What have you done?”

“You’ve ruined our chance with the prince,” said the one in yellow.

“Made our family lose honor.”

“Oh, how shall you pay?”

Vada swallowed, remembering what Romance had said regarding blood and gore at that moment. She closed her eyes, expecting the worst, only to find herself in the same room she started in, her notebook on the table. She hurried to the door, rattling the doorknob. “It’s locked. Oh, it’s locked Romance. Whatever shall I…” She turned, looking into the room. “Do?”

Nobody was in the room with her, resulting in her swallowing.

Chapter Text

Richard let out a sigh. “ And I ’ve got to leave before the library closes, because on school nights I’ve got a curfew. But at least I got my homework done, so my parents can’t complain about that. ”

“So, what kind of adventure are we off to today?” Adventure laughed, pushing up his eyepatch and winking.

“How about saving someone?”

Richard, startled, turned his head to look at the book that wasn ’t among his friend group. He pointed at her. “You?”

“Good lord. It’s Romance,” Adventure said, turning around and folding his arms across his chest. “Want nothing to do with you?”

“But you used to get along with her just fine,” Fantasy laughed. “What changed?”

“She changed.”

“Not my fault,” Romance muttered. “Uh, the girl I was with yesterday?” She took a deep breath. “She might be in trouble.”

“Oh no,” Horror trembled, covering his head. “Not Dracula again.”

“Actually, it’s Cinderella,” the Romance book said.

“Well, as long as it’s not ‘Aschenputtel’,” Horror said, laughing. “I mean…” He paused. “Wait? Is it ‘Aschenputtel’?”

“What is ‘Aschenputtel’?” Richard asked. “I mean, I’m guessing it’s a version of Cinderella.”

“Well, it is thought of as being the original Cinderella,” Fantasy said, “Though ‘Rhodopis’ predates the Brothers’ Grimm version, as do a few others.”

“But why is Horror?” Richard swallowed. Why was he so horrified by this version?”

“Oh, the stepsisters cut off their toes and heels to make the shoe fit,” Horror said. “And other things in that vein. “Cinderella doesn’t get hurt, though.”

“But I think Vada may,” Romance said. “Because the magic isn’t working right!”

Adventure sighed. “Well, I guess it is now time to go off on an adventure with my least favorite person to adventure with.”

“I love you, too,” Romance said, batting her eyes at him.

Adventure crossed his arms and let out a disgusted sound. “Honestly, woman, get it together. You used to be able to hold your own.”

Richard frowned, turning to Fantasy. “What is he talking about?”

“Well, genres shift. I started off as myth and fairy tales, but then shifted to King Arthur’s court, which is honestly what Adventure is talking about when it comes to romance,” Fantasy said. “And then—“

“Wait?” Richard frowned. “That story counts as romance?”

“Chivalric romance, to be exact,” Romance said. “Now that was the time, wasn’t it, Adventure?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Adventure muttered, still crossing his arms and refusing to look at Romance.

“Ah,” Richard said.

“But then came Tolkien, and others that modernized things,” Fantasy said.

“I’ve not modernized well,” Romance said.

“Is that true?”

“Well, they say the classics are dead,” Romance blurted out, fluttering her eyes.

“They are not!” Adventure snapped. “Moby Dick is still an amazing adventure!”

“Ah, that was the time, wasn’t it?” Romance said. “But if a writer’s not trying to imitate the classics poorly, they’re trying to be modern and throw everything, everything away. Poor me.”

“I think we should go and rescue your friend now,” Richard said. “Which way shall I go?”

“This way,” Romance said, taking off. “She said something about having an Alice in Wonderland effect, though, so do be careful.”

Richard groaned, shaking his head and keeping close to Romance, but soon they came to a small house. “Well, it looks like the classic Cinderella?”

“Which classic Cinderella?” Fantasy said. “There are many, you know?”

“The film?” Richard said. “The animated one.” He sighed. “Then perhaps not, as that’s a lot sweeter than what you described the Brothers’ Grimm version as.”

“This way, this way!” Romance called out, and Richard followed her, past the manor gates and to the front door, and—

Richard frowned as they walked right in.

“My prince has come!” said a girl in yellow, who looked strangely familiar, almost like one of the girls at school.

“No, my prince has come!” a girl in green said.

“No, mine, mine, mine!” a girl in orange said.

“Excuse me,” Richard said.

“Yes, Prince Thomas J. Sennett,” the three chorused.

Richard frowned, then pushed up his glasses. “This again?”

“At least the tale recognizes that there’s a copy of you running around.”

“But why is there a copy of me?” Richard said.

“I do apologize for Cinderella, our servant. She should not have dumped an entire bucket of water on you, Princee Tomas J. Sennett.”

“Where is?” Richard cleared his throat. “Cinderella.”

“You need not know,” the three stepsisters crooned. “You need not know.”

Richard frowned, then stooped to pick up Fantasy, whispering to her. “Is it just me, or is this tale wrong? There are three stepsisters here rather than two.”

“Correct. I’m not sure why the library decided to manifest two versions of the tale, but you need to find a way to get Vada out of this.”

Richard frowned. “Can I see Cinderella?”

“Why would you want to see that ugly thing?”

“Why would you want to see that nasty thing?”

“Why would you want to see that dirty thing?”

“Why indeed,” said the stepmother.

He froze, mouth opening and closing.

“Why not try the shoe on me?” The first held out her foot, showing the toes missing.

“No me,” the second held out her foot, showing a misformed heel.

“Or me!” the third said, showing just a stub.

“Well, this isn’t at all bloody,” Horror said.

“But still creepy.” Richard took a deep breath. “I wish to see Cinderella, to punish her. Right?”

“Careful,” Fantasy hissed. “The library, there is no telling what it might do.”

“If you must,” the three step sisters said, kicking up their malformed feet. “If you must, you must!”

“Go and punish her!” the stepmother said, pointing to the stairs.

Richard took a deep breath and headed up the stairs until he found a door leading to a room in the attic. He reached out and opened the door. “Please…” A pillow hit him in the face. “Don’t be mad.”

“Oh. It’s you,” Vada said. “I was not expecting you. Have you seen Romance?”

“Here I am,” Romance called out. “I went and fetched help for you.”

“I don’t need any help,” Vada said.

“Well, let’s leave,” he said, only to freeze.

“Prince Thomas J. Sennet is here!

“He is here!”

“Here he is!”

And then the stepmother was up in the room. “How dare you lie to me?”

“What did you do?” Vada said.

“I, uh, said the prince needed to punish you?” Richard stammared out.

“Why? Why did you go and change the tale?” Vada said. “I have to go to the ball. Meet the prince and—“

“I think the tale already changed, dear,” Fantasy said. “So that means there must be another way to get out of this, but I don’t understand the rhyme or reason to all of this.”

“Yes,” Richard said, closing the door and trying to hold it closed. “Why, for example, are there three stepsisters instead of just two?”

“That?” Vada took a deep breath. “Three girls bullied me today.”

“They what?” Richard said.

“Must be a manifestation of your insecurities,” Adventure said. “Just like Richard’s was back in the day.”

“I’ve been completely fine, though,” Vada said. “The older girls came to my rescue, and my stepmom—“

“Wait?” Richard let out a deep breath. “Do you actually have a stepmother?”

“What are you thinking, Richard dear?”

“That might be the clue, right?”

“I am.”

“Yes, but that only looks like my stepmother. She’s not the horrible person,” Vada paused, shaking her head. “I’m aware that what those girls said isn’t true. And the girls rescued me. My stepmom is even popular at her job and among the popular girls for her nail jobs.”

“That’s, uh, nice,” Richard said, continuing to hold the door closed. “But why would anyone think ill of your mom?”

“It’s not as if I said anything about our living situation,” Vada said. “Though I guess it might be gossiped about, as she does work at the local salon.” She then paused. “The truth is, I wanted to live with my uncle. And—“ She paused.

“What?” Richard said. “What is it?”

Vada said, “I acted the first few days here as if she were the enemy, that I was not living where I was…” She took a deep breath and headed to the door. “You? You are not my stepmother. My stepmother would never talk to me like this, and she is very patient with me and very loving!”

And then Richard fell flat on his face, his glasses falling off. He reached for them, putting them on his face, scowling. “Oh. It’s gone.”

“Please tell me this isn’t about me dealing with my inner turmoil,” Vada asked.

“Sorry, girly, but it kind of is. Then you can go on the real adventures, once you get past the test,” Adventure said.

“It’s a test?” Richard scowled. “I don’t think—“

“It’s normally not ever a test you’re expected to fail,” Fantasy said.

“Wait? I might fail?”

“It’s not really a test,” Horror muttered. “It’s about the inner psyche coming out imaginatively as the fragments come together to—“

Richard stared at Horror, frowning.

Horror frowned, scratching his head. “Wait. I forgot.”

“Well, that’s new,” Richard muttered. “And very confusing.”

Chapter Text

Vada almost hurried home, not asking the boy what his name was. He was slightly disturbed by the library ’s magic and how the genre couldn’t pinpoint what was going on, including the purpose of the library’s magic.

“How am I to know how to solve this problem if I don’t have those kinds of answers?”

“You okay?”

Vada turned, looking at the librarian named Cynthia, glad that the strange head librarian wasn ’t there, wondering if he had something to do with the magic in the library, particularly since the wizard in the middle of the mural happened to remind her of the head librarian in a rather creepy manner.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Hey,” Vada said. “Before I leave, could I check out a copy of Grimm’s fairy tales?”

Cynthia nodded her head and headed off to fetch the book, while out of the corner of her eye, Vada watched the boy who managed to rescue her yet again leave the library. The books that followed him discussed the fact that he hadn ’t checked out a book like he usually did, that he’d finished the one that he already had.

“So he is into books, but if I remember correctly, he is not into romance,” Vada said. “But then the genre is just for girls, right?”

Cynthia came back with a copy of Grimm ’s fairy tales, and Vada checked out and headed home. When she got home, she saw her stepmother in the living room and her baby brother asleep in the playpen. “Hey? I think I owe you an apology.”

“Whatever for?”

“I kind of gave you a hard time for the move,” Vada said. “When all you want is for your son to know his older sister, and I do want to be a great older sister.”

“It’s alright, Vada,” Shelly said. “You’re going through a lot, but growing up in a funeral parlor…” Shelly paused, then let out a sigh. “It can’t prepare you for what happened.”

“I’m still grieving, and I’m still heartbroken,” Vada said. “Can I actually write something amazing, still grieving for dad like I am, and having my heart broken by…” She paused, frowning. “Well, can I?”

“I think,” Shelly said, then paused. “Well, I’m not exactly one for academics and stuff, but I have heard that sometimes a writer’s best work comes from such places. Not necessarily negative feelings, but strong emotions. Or something like that.”

“Maybe,” Vada said, then headed up to her room where she cracked Grimm’s fairy tale open. She perused the different stories, all of which were relatively short reads, quickly discovering what Romance meant by the Grimm version of the tales. “They were bloody gory.”

“See?”

Vada startled, looking up to see Romance right there. “Where did you come from?”

“You finally checked a book out,” Romance said. “And it is of my genre, so to speak.”

“It’s more like the fantasy genre,” Vada responded, closing the book.

“Why do people think that? You’d think that romance would be at the forefront of everyone’s thoughts with those classic versions of the tales, but no. Everybody forgets Romance as a genre. Romance is so, so…” Romance frowned. “Well, I know what everyone says about me. I’m not really like that.”

“You mean a ditz?” Vada said.

“How do you see me?” Romance asked.

Vada ’s eyes blinked. “I’m not sure I follow.”

“I’m not sure myself at times,” Romance said. “I do know how those who read my genre can be, how those who write my genre can be. I feel kind of like I’m stuck in a rut.”

“Sounds like my life,” Vada said. “I should get to bed. I’ve got class in the morning.”

In the morning, she awoke, putting her composition notebook into her bag. She then paused before putting her previous composition notebook into her bag as well, the one she ’d hesitated in getting rid of but thought of doing so because of the heartbreak attached. Letting out a sigh, she headed to school, thinking she’d simply head to class.

But on her way, she saw Brice Blackwell, who winked at her and mouthed a thank you. She gave a quick nod before heading to her class, wanting to ask her teacher about the Romance genre, yet feeling like a fool, knowing the genre was thought of as just for girls, to be—

“I’ve heard quite a lot of things when people find out I want to write romance,” Vada said. “That it’s a lesser genre.” She looked up at Romance, who followed her, just as Adventure, Fantasy, and Horror followed that boy, whose name she still didn’t know. Romance said little, simply batting her eyes at Vada, as if she were expecting anything involving discussing her genre.

“So, you’re on Tiffany Maddox’s good side?”

Vada tensed, looking up from her lunch, her composition notebooks put aside. The girls who approached her were different than before, but her mouth twisted slightly. “I guess? I think it’s more…”

She didn ’t get a chance to say she thought Tiffany Maddox was simply someone who couldn’t stand bullying, as the girls' friend group joined her in time for Vada to think twice. She knew that Tiffany Maddox would rather maintain her queen bee persona. She sighed, shaking her head.

“And I saw! Brice Blackwell winked at you.”

Vada frowned.

“Do you think he’ll take you to prom?” another gushed.

“I believe he already has a girlfriend,” Vada said.

“Really? You’re new to school but already on the pulse of such news?”

Vada sighed. “ I guess they would even be surprised that Mr. Dark and Brooding are dating somebody. ”

“Such a bad boy,” one of the girls said. “How dreamy.”

Vada frowned. “Bad boy? What exactly has he done?”

“You know, I don’t know,” someone said. “But he looks like a bad boy, despite being on the basketball team. And that’s so different than being on the football team.”

Vada wanted to roll her eyes, but held back. “So the reason they’re being secretive is that the football players may not like a popular girl dating a baseball player instead of them. Wait. I think she said basketball, not baseball. This is stupid. ”

“You’re always writing in these notebooks.”

“Hey!” Vada said. “Don’t!”

“Is it some kind of private journal?” one girl said, opening the book.

“Why are you opening what you think is someone’s private journal?” Vada thought, but then saw the girl’s eyes light up.

“Oh! It’s a romance!”

“A romance?” one of the girls said. “Let me see.”

“No. I get to read it first!” the girl said, and then—

Vada found herself without both of her notebooks, the girl having walked off with them, but she didn ’t see that group of friends until after school the next day. She held out her hand. “Can I have my notebooks back?”

The girl who took her notebook handed it back, frowning. “Here.”

“What’s with that look?” Vada said.

“I think I prefer your first romance,” the girl said. “The one with Nick Zsigmond.”

Vada swallowed. “That one.”

“Sorry. I can’t reciprocate your feelings,” she remembered Nick saying. “It just feels weird, being that when my mom marries your uncle, we’ll be cousins.”

“The fact they’re going to be cousins doesn’t bother you?”

“They’re not blood related.”

“That’s what I told Nick,” Vada thought, remembering how one-sided everything turned out to be despite the fact that she’d thought things were mutual.

“This one with the boy with many allergies who dies from bee stings? It’s not very fun, having the romance end that way, or being with such a nerd,” the girl said. “But the other one, you should change it so she actually gets the boy.”

“I’ll consider that,” Vada said, returning the notebooks. She frowned. “Does this mean I failed? To write the genre?”

She headed home after that, only—

Looking up, Vada frowned. “Wait? The library.”

“It must be drawing us back for some reason,” Romance said, having listened to the entire conversation.

“What do you think of what they said?”

“Well, indeed, it isn’t traditional for the girl not to get the guy at the end of the romance, but doesn’t that just mean you’re thinking outside of the box?”

“Yeah, but it doesn’t sell,” Vada said.

“That, I’m all too aware of,” Romance said. “What does sell…” She shook her head. “Why does Adventure get the Hunger Games? Why does Fantasy get Harry Potter? Why does Horror get Twilight?”

“Hold it? I thought we established that Twilight isn’t horror?”

“Oh. That’s right,” Romance said. “Maybe horror gets it?”

“Maybe some people prefer their horror more visual?” Vada pondered before heading into the library, unsure given her last two experiences.

Chapter Text

Adventuring into the unknown wasn’t something that thrilled Vada as she stepped into the library, yet in the back of her head she knew she needed to do something regarding what was going on in the library lest she find herself at a point she could never enter, yet at the back of her mind what the girls said regarding her writing, that it wasn’t a normal romance left her realing.

“I’ve always known it wasn’t a traditional romance,” she thought to herself, “Because I wanted to be different. But is being different a bad thing? Those girls seem to think so.”

Romance came with her, as if they ’d not been put into danger the last couple of times they ended up in a book that Vada hadn’t yet read, yet in the back of her head she wondered why she didn’t know there were dark versions of fairy tales, rather than the sugar coated ones she grew up with.

“It kind of turned me away from them as I grew older, thinking that wasn’t the type of romance I wanted to write because it was childish, yet I never thought that I could take something like a sweet, romantic story and turn it into something darker. Not sure that’s the direction I want to go with my stories though.”

Looking up, she looked at the mural. “You were babbling weird things the other day, about the mural.”

“Oh,” Romance said. “A past self is up there, I guess.”

“Past self?” Vada wasn’t sure what Romance meant and sighed, heading further in. She stopped, noticing the female librarian at the counter, checking in books that had been dropped off. She walked over. “Hi.”

“Oh. Hello. How are you enjoying the library so far?”

“Regarding the romance genre?” Vada asked. “Is all there to the genre romance?”

“I’m not sure I’m following,” Cynthia said. “Romance is romance, right?”

“But was it something else once?” Vada asked. “I mean, I’m not sure what I’m trying to ask here, but did it always have the negaative repretation it does?”

Cynthia frowned. “You really shouldn’t listen to anyone who talks down upon the genre. If you love it, that’s what matters, right?”

“Not quite what I was going for,” she said. “I’m just not quite understanding why it has such a bad reputation.” She then took a deep breath. “I’m not asking as a reader, but a writer.”

“Oh,” Cythia said. “One might say it’s a genre that is often put in a box regarding what one can do with it, what is expected of it, but the genre has a vast history.”

“The Chivalric romance?” Vada asked. “I’ve heard of that recently.”

“Ah. The era of the courtly love,” Cynthia said. “We’re talking in effect your knights in shining armor kind of thing, where they wooed the ladies of the court but didn’t necessarily end up with them, as the ladies chastity was meant to remain pure.”

“Sounds similar to the classics,” Vada said. “I’m not wanting to write something like that though, as they’re…” She paused. “The time periods they’re in are outdated.”

Cynthia laughed. “Yes. If you want to write a romance taking place in a bydone era, you need to do your research, but I think you were going to say they were outdated?”

“It’s not quite the right word, what I was looking for,” Vada said. “More like it’s been done before, and I want to do something new. But in the same vein, the modern romance is well, the same, isn’t it? But am I wrong for wanting to bridge out from what the genre is doing?”

“Well, it certainly might make your work more on the niche side of things,” Cynthia said. “But there’s nothing wrong with doing something that changes things up, and it might end up being more popular than people think.” She shuffled a few book to a cart to be restacked. “I think one of the reasons people dismiss the classics is because they’re from a bygone era, or use vernacular they don’t understand, not because they aren’t good stories. But I think the readers of those eras would find the modern romance just as strange.”

“I hadn’t thought about that.”

“And there’s also this snubbing readers and writers do, of putting one thing on a pedestal over another,” Cynthia said. “I think you should consider simply writing the story you want to write, without worrying about whether it is or isn’t going to appeal to a wider audience. If you have a story you love, that’s what matters.”

“I guess.”

“Well, think about it, will you?”

Vada sighed, feeling as if she ’d not gotten an answer before heading back to one of the desks, looking over her stories. “ I ’m not, though, happy with what I’ve written so far,”

“Vada?”

“Yes?” She looked up at Romance.

“You look unhappy.”

“Well,” she touched her first notebook. “I’d honestly flip out if anybody in the family read this.”

“Why?”

“Well, it’s kind of awkward musing in the form of a story regarding my crush on my stepcousin,” Vada said. “I guess that’s what you’d call Nick. It’s super awkward, given Uncle Phil introduced them as his fiance and her son and I instantly fell for him, but it was rather one-sided.”

“Oh.”

“And then there’s the other one,” Vada said. “I made the romantic interest a complete nerd and killed him off,” she took a deep breath. “Well, the same way my dad died.”

“Maybe you’ve been working things through with your writing?” Romance offered.

Vada ’s eyes blinked. “Wait? What did you say?”

“Not sure,” Romance said. “I mean, not sure where it came from, thinking that it was you working through things through what you’re currently writing.”

“Yes, but isn’t that what was said earlier? About the library’s magic? Does it help you work through things?” Vada sighed, letting out a laugh. “So I am going mad?”

“You’re not going mad!” Romance protested.

“I was joking,” Vada said, looking at her notebooks. “I think, though, I’m not quite ready to share my writing. I’m not quite sure what kind of writer I want to be, beyond the fact that I want to write romances. But how can I write a romance when I’ve not yet experienced it myself? That’s a bit silly, isn’t it?”

“Oh, I don’t know. You’ve certainly experienced heartbreak?”

“Isn’t that why, though, my character’s relationships end like they do? Goodness knows I named her after myself.” Vada sighed. “And if that gets out. Why did I ever let those girls touch my notebooks?”

“Well,” Romance said. “You didn’t. They just took without asking. I know because I saw. And they weren’t very nice, telling you that it was wrong to break up the pairing. I mean, if that were the rule of thumb, one wouldn’t have tragic love stories?”

“Tragic love stories?” Vada frowned.

“Like Romeo and Juliet,” Romance said, “Though its proper categorization is tragedy, it is seen as a love story. Folly of youth.”

“Right,” Vada said. “I always thought of the story as a romance, but the way it ends does, in fact, make it a romantic tragedy.” Her eyes widened. “Wait? Have I been thinking of this all wrong? Does this mean I can—“

Whatever she wanted to say, she didn ’t, as the room shifted and she found herself in the countryside, having been brought into yet another tale.

Chapter Text

“Beautiful,” Vada said, grinning. “What beautiful meadow.”

“Farm land.”

“What?” Vada turned to look at Romance, frowning.

“I assure you that we’re not in a meadow, but the local farm land.”

“That is, surely, far less romantic,” Vada frowned. “We are in a Romance novel, right?”

“Well, yes,” Romance said.

“This is a work of fiction, you know,” a person passing by the farm field said. “And a wonderful romance at that.”

Vada ’s eyes widened, then her mouth opened. “Are the characters supposed to know they’re in a story?”

“Well, normally no,” Romance said. “This is, though, The Princess Bride.”

“Okay,” Vada frowned, looking around. “I don’t see a castle nearby, and I don’t see a princess either.”

“Well, it’s a bit complicated,” Romance said. “I take it you’ve never read The Princess Bride?”

“Nope,” Vada said. “Well, might as well head in the same direction.”

Only to stop short when a rider and horse tore up to them, the man dressed to the nines, similar to how the characters in Cinderella dressed.

“Please tell me it’s not another era piece,” Vada wondered. “I agree with Cynthia that researching period stuff is boring and a chore.”

“I am sorry to inform you, Madam Vada,” the messenger said, “That a bee sting by the Dread Pirate Tyler has killed your love Thomas J. Sennet.”

Vada frowned. “Lovely. I just wrote that into my story about him. And now it’s coming across in this tale? I’m really hating what I’ve written now.”

She let out a sigh, beginning to trudge through the field, unsure of which direction she should go, not caring that she was getting mud on herself as she went along, never having been one to shy away from outdoor activity in the first place.

“And I want to be a romance writer?” Vada continued along, eventually having her breath draw nigh as she leaned against the fence. She looked around, thinking she might have lost Romance, only to find her climbing up the fence to get closer to Vada so they could converse. “I’m really not liking this library magic.”

“Well, this is the first I’ve heard of the library blending the stories of a writer-to-be with the stories within the library,” Romance said. “But then I may have forgotten.”

“You seem to forget a lot of things.”

“Things feel like they change too much for me. What’s popular one day seems not to be the next, and it is hard for any genre to keep up. The other genres are so lucky.”

“You mentioned that before,” Vada sighed.

“Yes. I don’t feel like I’m taken seriously like the other genre. I deserve to be taken seriously.” Romance placed her fingers to her head. “It’s kind of hard to decide what I want to be. I need you to decide what I’m to be.”

“Because I’m the writer, I need to decide what kind of romance I want to write?”

Romance nodded.

Vada sighed. “It’s kind of my fault, though. I kind of got it when you brought up Romeo and Juliet, that I was blocking in the way I thought of the genre. Still, it really is okay that my one story ended up being a romantic tragedy even if the other girls didn’t get what I was going for.”

“Well, everybody tends to think of me as me,” Romance said. “And I’ve at times lost connections with the other genre. I mean, look at how much Adventure doesn’t like me anymore.”

“So I’ve noticed,” Vada said. She looked around. “I’d never heard of a tale where the characters are aware they’re part of a story and not real.”

“The imagination is limitless, isn’t it?” Romance sighed, batting her eyes.

Vada ’s mouth twisted slightly. “Yeah. It is. And I guess that is—“

“Madame?”

Vada turned, frowning as she looked at a man with a sixth finger on his right hand. Vada frowned. “ So now the story decides to progress even though I ’m making progress in figuring out what kind of writer I want to be without it? ”

“Magic’s still running amok,” Romance whispered.

“I think she means that the imagination is running amok, but how will that help me escape this situation?”

“I am here to seize you, to take you to the prince whom you shall marry,” the man said, without truly properly introducing himself.

Vada frowned, then decided to take some time. “And you are, sir?”

“I am Count Tyrone Rugen,” the character said. “Consider me the arch rival of Inigo Montoya, whom you’ve yet to meet, and I couldn’t care less for, for I care only for myself, and the pain I can cause others, and for that I seek you out so that our plans can bear fruit. But first, you must be engaged to the prince, so that we can later fake a kidnapping by a foreign kingdom to start a war.”

“Spoiler aleert,” Vada muttered. “I know that the book's characters are supposed to be aware they’re not real, but this is ridiculous, isn’t it?”

“Well, technically, the characters in the story don’t realize they’re not real, but it’s told as if the story isn’t real, yet for some reason it’s been passed onto the characters so they can know. There are, though, stories where the characters very much do in character know that they’re not real.”

“But still?” Vada shook her head. “Spoiler?”

“Well,” Romance started to say when Vada found herself scooped up and dumped into a cart by the villain and his henchman, with Romance hurrying after her, climbing in as it clammored shut. “Sorry, sorry! I told you that the magic of the library isn’t working properly, but this isn’t exactly how the story is meant to go! I mean, announcing the plans to kidnap you before the engagement?”

“Which, I take, means I am playing the main heroine role,” Vada sighed.

“Well, of course, my dear,” the villainous six-fingered man said from the front of the carriage. “It makes sense that you are the heroine of this tale, as antiquated as that may seem.”

“I don’t think that word means what you think,” Vada muttered.

“And would you like me to put you to pain? I care not that the Prince has plans for you, that his plans will lead towards my pleasure of hurting more people and putting them to pain, when I can just put you to pain here and now.”

Vada frowned, pulling her legs to her chin. “This is just as fun as the other times.”

“So sorry,” Romance muttered as the carriage moved along, way smoother than a carriage ride should be, but then the story seemed keen on breaking the rules of reality simply for the sake of breaking them, not because the story broke the rules.

“But then I’m not sure? What here is a rule of reality that the writer originally decided to break in the original story, and what are the things that are being broken because the magic of the library isn’t working?”

“We are here, so it’s time to introduce you to the prince, your romance option!”

Vada frowned. “ But wait? Thomas is dead in this, right? They told me? So, who is left? ”

She exited the carriage, Romance right behind her, then did a double-take.

“Oh no.”

“Yes, oh no,” the prince said. “You are very much a part of Prince Zsigmond’s plans to rule the world!”

Vada sighed. “ This isn ’t Nick, the real Nick, let alone the Nick from my story, but the magic of the library must be picking up on everything I wrote, even if it’s not quite put together right yet. ”

“And what do you have to say to that, becoming my bride, the princess bride?”

“I say no,” Vada said. “And that’s the Princess Bride? Some farm girl in some political plot? That’s an odd thing, isn’t it?”

Chapter Text

Adventure let out a sniff, pushing up his eye patch. “I smell adventure.”

This wasn ’t new, but the way magic worked the last week or so left Richard puzzled at what exactly was going on with the library’s magic.

“I don’t know,” Horror said the next day at school. “But I do know the way the magic is working scares me.”

“It’s okay to be afraid, Horror,” Richard reminded the genre, though the people who he told he was fond of the genre tended to think a bit of a scare here and there was a bad thing, with him learning over the years since he met the three genre just how misunderstood Horror happened to be. “I kind of wonder if that is how Romance feels.”

“Wouldn’t know,” Adventure said, refusing to look any of them in the eye, leaving Richard wondering if he really hated Romance, let alone if there was more to the genre than he heard.

“What about asking her?” Fantasy asked, pointing out the fact that Vada was, in fact, in his English class.

Richard shook his head, thinking this was not a good idea. Vada didn ’t seem like the type to want attention drawn to herself, something he somewhat understood, having gotten onto the wrong side of some of the other kids. However, a few times, an older boy named Brice Blackwell stepped in and stopped them, having met Richard at the library.

But then—

That day, he noticed she wasn ’t writing in her notebook. “Where do you think it went? Her notebook? And has she been writing stories?”

“Well, that might explain things,” Fantasy said. “Perhaps this is a case of a writer finding herself?”

“Kind of a bit harsh, though, the way the magic is reacting?” Richard said, unsure of how to handle it, even when he stopped at the library, settling down at one of the desks to do his homework. Still, out of the corner of his eye, he saw Vada and Romance take to another desk with a couple of composition notebooks. “She must be doing homework as well, I guess, so maybe today will be normal.”

But then, as he started finishing his homework. Adventure began to sniff the air, puffing out his chest and announcing that he smelled adventure, to which Richard looked over to the desk where Vada sat, only to find her gone, Romance as well.

“Here we go again,” Richard said. He scooped Adventure up. “Which way?”

“This way!” the book called out, his excitement growing. “And today’s adventure is…” Adventure blinked his eyes. “Wait? It’s The Princess Bride?”

Richard frowned. “I actually read that one, because Mom watched the movie. Is it actually a Romance novel?”

“Well, uh,” Adventure choked out. “No! It’s an adventure novel.”

Richard wasn ’t so sure as they entered the area. They found themselves in the court area in time to see someone announcing that Prince Zsigmond had found Princess Vada. His mouth twisted into a frown. “Not Prince Thomas J. Sennett this time?”

“Isn’t that a good thing?” Horror said. “I mean, the fake you isn’t here, right?”

Richard shook his head. “Prince Zsigmond isn’t, though, the romantic interest of Princess Buttercup. I mean Prince Humperdinck. It’s instead…” Richard let out a sigh. “The Dread Pirate Roberts. The love she thought was dead all these years. My fake is still a part of the story. But I think the story’s been changed. Where is the pit that Westley gets tortured in until he’s nearly dead?”

“I’m not sure,” Adventure said, laughing and bouncing up and down. “But it’s a roaring good adventure, isn’t it?”

“It’s also a romance,” Richard said. “Though I didn’t realize it when I watched the movie with my mom, or read the book. They’re still trying to frame the neighboring country for her death, though, so we should—“

He stopped short, his jaw dropping as he saw a slew of masked men appear on the castle ’s ramparts as Prince Zsigmond, who had replaced Prince Humperdinck, came out with his bride, announcing they were getting married then and there.

“Quite handsome,” Horror commented about Prince Zsigmond.

“Huh?” Adventure asked, popping up his eyepatch right before crossing his arms and huffing. “This isn’t Romance. Romance is boring. Has been for ages. So what nonsense—“

“Not now,” Richard said, waving at the genre to stop.

“Egads!” Called out Prince Zsigmond. “It’s the Dread Pirate Tyler.”

“Huh?” Richard face-palmed. “Hey! That’s my last name!”

Vada looked right at him as the other characters nodded their head. “Of course it is. Of course it is. Now on with the tale!”

Richard frowned. “So now the characters know their story isn’t real?”

He shook his head, sighing as Prince Zsigmond called out. “Why are there so many Dread Pirate Tylers?”

“That makes absolutely no sense,” Vada said, arms folded. “And I’m not marrying you.”

“Ah, but you will, so I’ll spare you love. That’s how the story goes!” Prince Zsigmond said.

“It is not!” Richard calls out. “I’ve read the book! In the book, he offers to look for Westley, who is in fact the current Dread Pirate Roberts.”

To which all of the Dread Pirate Tylers tore off their masks, all saying at the same time. “Why did you have to ruin the twist ending, huh?”

Vada sighed. “So my character from my second story is still alive, and there are multiple ones. Who’s the real one?”

“I am!” all of them called off.

“Why?” Richard called out.

“Why?” Vada said. “I’m not sure what you’re getting at, but I thought you didn’t read romance?”

“I read it because it’s an adventure story,” Richard said. He pointed at one of the Dread Pirate Tylers. “Why did you base this Thomas J. Sennett off me?”

“Huh?” Vada frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I’m the real Dread Pirate Tyler,” Richard said, to which—

“Oh no!” All of the fakes said, before one by one they popped into a puff of smoke and disappeared, with the last one saying, “Why? Why did you have to worry about a good thing?”

Vada ’s mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, a blush forming on her face. Fantasy sighed. “Oh dear.”

“What?” Richard said.

“She was crushing on you without realizing it!” Romance said, jumping up and down. “She didn’t know who you were.”

“You. You wear eyeglasses!” Vada stammered out.

“Oh. These?” Richard wiped them, suddenly not seeing. “Can’t see without them.”

“Oh. No,” Vada sighed. “This. This can’t be happening.”

“Well, I’m delighted that this Thomas J. Sennett is such a nerd that I don’t have to worry about defeating him!” Prince Zsigmond called out as Richard put his eyeglasses on. “I can defeat you by flicking you with my finger!”

“Flick with the finger, huh?” Vada said, her mouth twitching, before reaching out. “You know, this is my story and I’ll write the ending.” And with that, she flicked Prince Zsigmond with her finger, to which he puffed away in smoke. “See? My story.”

Richard let out a sigh of relief as the story disappeared.

“Now that was an adventure,” Adventure said, only to turn around to be bashful. “I didn’t mean that. Adventure with romance is not an adventure at all.”

“How mean!” Romance cried out.

“So?” Richard said. “This is awkward?”

Chapter Text

There was no getting around how awkward things were, finding out that she’d been crushing on the boy who volunteered at the library, not realizing it was him, as she started grinding on him when he wasn’t wearing his glasses.

“Mortifying,” Vada thought to herself. “And I don’t even know his name.”

“I’m, uh, Richard Tyler,” Richard said, rubbing his head while Adventure kept his back to them, pretending he’d not enjoyed the adventure they’d just partaken in.

“I thought you didn’t read romance?” Vada repeated, her confusion growing.

“To be honest, I just don’t pay attention to whether what I’m reading is or isn’t, though I do avoid going into the romance section of the library, unless I’m shelving books,” Richard said. “So, I haven’t read much of anything, and was surprised to learn The Princess Bride is actually of the Romance genre, though I’m not surprised now that I think of it.”

“Kind of like how Romeo and Juliet is a romantic tragedy,” Vada said, “With emphasis on the tragedy part.”

“Ah,” Adventure said. “Doesn’t tragedy tend to get along well with you, Romance?”

“Not really these days,” Romance said. “Everybody wants happy endings, and most of my genre these days seems to be written for girls. I’ve kind of missed getting to go on adventures in the quest for searching for love, though!”

Adventure gagged, rolling his eyes. “This is why I don’t like you. You’ve always had romance on the brain when I talk to you. You used to be a lot more sensible.”

“I should be going,” Vada said. “See you in class tomorrow? Or at school in general?”

“Uh, sure,” Richard said, looking as if he was still caught off guard by the fact she crushed on him while he wasn’t wearing his glasses. She headed to the front doors, frowning.

“Not checking out a book?” Cynthia called out.

“I’m still perusing the Grimm fairy tales,” Vada said. She then paused. “Hey? If you were to ask girls who come in here looking for romance novels for what they read, would they all come back with a list of books that are just romance and aren’t, I don’t know, like romantic tragedies?”

“Huh,” Cynthia frowned. “I’ve not thought of it, as I’m keen on the classical romances which now overlap with historical fiction because of how much time has passed, but they’ve not always been historical fiction. I think it honestly depends on the girl in question. Not really fair to lump them together.”

“Doesn’t help me much.”

“Well, I think readers are more likely to explore romances of cross genre, whereas those less inclined towards reading are going to focus on just the romance, and to them, another genre might feel a bit distracting? Or they might be focused on what is popular? Or what they feel they can directly self-insert themselves into, over something that is far different from what they’re familiar with.”

“Ah,” Vada said. “I think I’m more of a writer than a reader, but I think I want to get an idea of what I can do with the genre outside of what I know. I’d never, for example, thought of Romeo and Juliet as anything but a romance.”

“Ah, the folly of teen love gone astray, the romantic tragedy set on that trajectory by youthful naivety and adults who couldn’t see past their own prejudices,” Cynthia said. “Want me to think up a list of books for you to try out the next time you stop by?”

“That would be nice,” Vada said. “I think I’ll ask my English teacher as well. Anyways, I should head home before it gets too late.”

She headed home and found her stepmother cleaning up her younger brother ’s highchair and face. She looked up, smiling, “Dinner’s ready.”

“That’s great,” Vada said. “And, I think I owe Nick an apology. I kind of did flip out when I got rejected.”

“Finally over your heartbreak?” Shelly asked.

Vada grimaced. “I’ve kind of thought I’ve moved onto a new heartbreak. I’ve been crushing on a boy without realizing it, and he found out, and it’s just awkward.”

“That’s, uh, nice?” Shelly frowned. She then shook her head. “No. Not nice. Did he reject you?”

“Well, no,” Vada said. “But, he likes books? And while he’s not into romance, per se, he might talk to me about the ones that aren’t just romance, so I kind of, while I’d like for it to be something else, will let it be friendship for now?”

“Ah. Going for the slow burn.”

“You don’t know if I’d end up with him,” Vada sighed exasperatedly. She sat down. “I’ll call Uncle Phil this weekend.”

“But don’t ask to talk to Nick. It’s possibly still awkward for him, having his eventual cousin-by-marriage confess her feelings to him.”

“I get it. I’ll tell Uncle Phil…” She started saying.

“How about I talk to your Uncle Phil, so there isn’t any miscommunication?” Shelly said. “Nick is, after all, part of your family, so you want to smooth things over, right?”

“Yes, well,” Vada rolled her eyes. “My new crush? He may have an idea of that.”

“How?”

“I might have written a bit too much into it?”

“I was aware of that?”

“You read my story?”

“No, but Nick did. It’s how the awkward confession to him happened in the first place, and you kept saying that his rejecting you was because you’d not been ready to confess.”

“I forgot,” Vada sighed. “It was super embarrassing.”

“Anyways, I’m glad things are going well, but hopefully you’re keen on making friends at school now?”

“Not sure,” Vada frowned. “One day I’ve girls bullying me because I live with my stepmom instead of my biological family, then the next day I have girls wanting to read my stories because they’re romance.”

“Wait? Isn’t that a good thing?”

“Not when they didn’t ask,” Vada said. “Don’t think I want to be friends with them. And it will be awkward trying to talk to that boy in class.”

“Well, wait until tomorrow and see.”

“I guess.”

To which she did, and everything seemed normal, even though Romance followed after her, chattering about the same thing repeatedly, unable to focus on a single thing.

“It might change when I broaden my horizons in the genre,” Vada thought, but then paused, fists forming at her side. “Hey! Don’t do that!”

She hurried over to where a couple of boys were dumping Richard into a trash can, which made her crush all the more awkward.

“Don’t do that, you bullies!” Vada said.

“And what are you going to do about it?” one of the boys said, turning to glare at her, but he was bigger than her.

Someone behind her cleared his throat.

“Ah, uh? Blackwell?”

“Run!”

And then they were off, as Brice Blackwell stepped over, helping Richard out of the trash can.

“Oh? Hello,” Richard said. “You’re into Sci-fi, right?”

“Right,” Brice said, looking as if he was trying not to laugh. “Library boy.”

“That,” Vada started saying.

“You okay?”

“I am,” Richard said. “You and Vada stepped in.”

“Yeah, but you’re a mess. Let’s see if the nurse can’t help get this stink cleaned off of you,” Brice said, guiding Richard away before Vada could try to enquire further about how Richard felt about finding out she had a crush on him.

“That was pretty cool.”

“Huh?” Vada turned, eyes blinking.

Tiffany Maddox shrugged her shoulders. “You’re kind of right. Even my friends know I can’t stand bullying, but I think you’ll be fine when I graduate.”

And then she headed away.

Vada took a deep breath. “So, maybe moving wasn’t so bad.”

“Yeah, you met me!” Romance called out.

Vada looked down, frowning. “You? I’m still not sure about you.”