Eddie slept like a rock.
Or maybe he slept more like a shiny green pebble. Because if you could have peeked at him as he lay there on the bottom of the tray, that’s what he would have looked like to you. A small, smooth, still green pebble. Until . . .
BRRRIIIINNNGGGG!
At the sound of the bell, Eddie rose to his feet. He glanced around, then trotted to the front of the tray.
“Hey, Aunt Min. Which bell was that?”
“End of day. See? The children are leaving.”
Together they watched as the young Squishers wandered off to wherever they spent the night.
“Teatime now,” said Min. “The Librarian likes to linger for a cup after school.”
And sure enough, the next sound was water boiling in a kettle at the far end of the Library.
“She has a small office back there,” said Min.
When the Librarian brought her tea to the desk, Eddie was excited to get an up-close view.
“Gosh!” he said. “Isn’t she something!”
He stretched to get a good look. The Librarian was a roundish kind of Squisher with a cheerful face and a plump body. Everything about her was colorful. Red hair, purple glasses, turquoise top.
“She’s like a butterfly!” said Eddie in astonishment.
“Hsst, Eddie, get down.”
But Min needn’t have worried. The Librarian was busy opening a book. A moment later, she chuckled.
“It’s the same book she was reading at lunchtime,” whispered Eddie. “She was laughing then, too. Do you think she’ll leave it behind?”
“Shh,” said Min.
Together, they listened to sipping and clinking, and pages turning, and now and then laughing. Finally, there was humming as the Librarian stood up.
“Darn!” said Eddie as she popped the book into her purse.
She put on her coat. It was as red as a ripe apple, and her wool hat was as blue as the evening sky.
Eddie looked more closely.
“Gosh,” he said, watching her as she left the Library. “The Librarian is very round, isn’t she?”
Min nodded. “Didn’t you know? She’s going to have a baby.”
“A baby? Just one?”
Another nod from Min. “They only have one baby at a time, those Squishers. Silly, isn’t it? Hardly worth the trouble. But the bad part is—she’s going to leave the Library.”
“Leave?” Eddie twitched uncomfortably. “Why?”
“To look after the baby. It’s ridiculous, I know. Babies should be able to look after themselves after the first few weeks. And for goodness sake, there’ll only be one.”
She sighed and continued. “Squisher babies are different. Helpless. Pathetic. Our Librarian will be gone for some time.”
“Oh, no!” Eddie had only known the Librarian briefly, but he already felt very fond of her.
A new thought struck him. “Who’s going to look after the Library?”
Min sighed. “Don’t ask, Eddie. I wish . . .”
She stopped.
“What do you wish? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” said Min. “At least, nothing yet. I’m just . . . a little nervous, that’s all. About what’s going to happen when the Librarian leaves. But don’t you worry. By that time, you’ll be home with your family.”
“We both will,” said Eddie. “Listen, Aunt Min, I’ve been thinking. Why don’t we leave tonight? Go home.”
“We?” said Min.
Eddie stared back, puzzled. “Of course. You and me.”
“But Eddie—”
“I don’t want to go,” said Eddie. “But we have to.”
It was true. In the short time since he’d arrived, he’d been totally enchanted by the Library. But Min’s safety was more important. “We’re living on top of a desk, Aunt Min! The most dangerous place in the school. We have to leave.”
“Eddie,” said Min slowly, “look at me. Really look. Can’t you see? I’m on my last legs.” She wiggled the four that still worked. Even those movements were feeble.
“Don’t say that, Aunt Min. I can help. You can lean on me.”
She shook her head. “Think about it. If we were down on the floor, we might stagger along somehow. But how would I get to the floor?”
“I’ll carry you down.”
Min shook her head again. “That’s sweet. But remember how hard it was to get a crumb up here? Do you really think you could carry a whole bug down?”
He didn’t answer. He hated that she was right. He was too small. He didn’t have enough strength. And a horrible thought crossed his mind. What if he dropped her?
“But you can’t stay here!” he cried. “You know you can’t!”
“Sometimes we don’t get a choice,” she said. “My injuries will take time to heal. And that’s fine, I can wait—I’m a tough old bug. But you? You must go back. Your parents will be frantic.”
“Aunt Min—”
“Go. I’ll be fine.”
Eddie gulped. He had never heard such a big, brave lie in his life. Dreamy, he might be, even foolish. But he wasn’t stupid. And Eddie knew, as surely as he knew his own name, what would happen to Min if he left her there—trapped, injured, and unable to get food.
“No,” he said in the firmest voice he could muster. “If you’re staying, so am I.”
What followed next was an excruciatingly long argument. It would take several pages, in fact, to tell you the details of how Min coaxed and threatened and reminded Eddie over and over about his worried parents, about the example he should set for his brothers and sisters, and about the various risks of staying, which were somehow just fine for her but much too dangerous for him. All you really need to know is this: Eddie waited patiently till his aunt was finished and then said in a surprisingly certain voice, “You’re wasting your breath.”
Min stomped her front foot. “Oh, Eddie! When did you get so stubborn?”
“Runs in the family.”
She tried not to smile.
“Okay,” she said finally, “I can’t force you. But this makes me responsible. If something were to happen to you—well, honestly, Eddie, your mother would have me for breakfast! Promise me you’ll be extremely careful, especially when the Squishers are around.”
“I promise.”
“No daydreaming? You’ll pay attention?” She gave him a sharp look.
“I promise.”
“Good. Now it’s my turn for a nap. All this excitement since you arrived—I can’t believe I’ve stayed awake all day.”
“Go rest,” said Eddie. “I’ll stand guard while you sleep.”
Min obeyed, making herself a bed atop a crumpled tissue. “Don’t wander off now.”
“I won’t.”
Seconds later, she was snoring. Stepping carefully so as not to rattle any papers, Eddie crept out of the tray.
He stood guard, just as he’d promised. But after a long period of watchfulness, during which not one single thing happened except for increasingly loud snores from his aunt, he realized—there was nothing to guard against. The Squishers had all gone home.
“Hmph,” he said out loud.
He was bored.
But how could he be bored? This was the Library!
He wasn’t seeing the Library, that was why. And what was the point of being in the Library if he didn’t experience it?
A tingle ran through his feet, tiny but quite thrilling. Eddie laughed, remembering how nervous his feet had been on the journey to the Library. Now, suddenly, they were brave and wanted to explore.
But . . . no. He had promised Aunt Min he’d stay close.
His feet argued back. The desk was close, they said. Up till now, Eddie had stayed near the paper tray. But the desk was much larger than that. Eddie could look across it and see the fantastic jumble of things he had noticed when he first arrived—things the Librarian must need in her job.
What could they be?
As he started to walk, his feet tingled harder. They seemed to have minds of their own.
Pencils he found in abundance. Also, pens. A Librarian must have to write many things, thought Eddie. Sure enough, he found some. A list with the heading, “Kindergarten Story Time” followed by the titles of three books. Another list said, “Research—Solar System.”
Eddie’s feet carried him on, past a glass bowl filled with gold stars. Behind these rose a giant tape dispenser and a huge box of tissues. Tucked between, like a joke, was a plastic duck. It swung when Eddie pushed it. (He had to run to get out of the way!)
Looming above everything was a computer, its screen an enormous blank eye. In the daytime, it must have been filled with bright images. Now it was empty and gray. Smaller gray things—a mystery to Eddie—were attached to the big computer. Must be a computer family, thought Eddie.
A framed photo caught his eye. He scuttled over. The picture showed a man and a woman hugging a curly haired dog. Eddie recognized the woman immediately. The Librarian!
Beside the photo was a blue stamp pad, left open. Eddie knew all about stamp pads. The Teacher had one in Room 19. Pa had stumbled onto it one dark night and had come home blue. He’d left footprints all over the Teacher’s desk.
Eddie kept his distance from the stamp pad.
He found more yellow stickies. They were everywhere! The Librarian must really like stickies.
He also found a mysterious straw basket, woven in lots of different colors. It was wider at the top than at the bottom, which made it extremely difficult to climb.
What was inside? Eddie couldn’t stand not knowing. Slowly, with great effort, he hauled himself all the way to the top.
It was worth the climb. At first the odd collection of objects in the basket made no sense. But then Eddie recognized one—a toy train with a smiling face.
“Thomas the Tank Engine!” he cried.
Recognizing Thomas made Eddie suspect that the other objects might also be clues to books. He made a list in his head so he could ask Aunt Min about them later:
• a purple plastic purse
• a box of crayons
• a toy pig with big ears, wearing a red dress
• a little silver jingle bell
• a pair of children’s glasses with round lenses
• a tall hat with red-and-white stripes
• a long feathery pink thing that looked like clothing
When Eddie saw the feathery thing—so soft to sleep on—he thought of Aunt Min. He tried to take it back for her. But it was too hard to drag.
Fortunately, climbing out of the basket was not hard at all. When Eddie reached the top rim, he just dropped down.
His last stop, closest to the Librarian’s chair, was the best stop of all. The Librarian’s teacup! The one she had been drinking from earlier. Eddie crept closer, admiring the lavish pink roses. When he reached the saucer, he glanced down and . . .
Yes!
There was tea spilled in the saucer. Lovely, clear, amber tea. Gone cold now—he tested it with his antennae. But still delicious, as he discovered when he took a sip.
Aunt Min would be so pleased.
Bursting with his news, he ran back to tell her. But she was still in a deep snooze.
“Hmph,” muttered Eddie.
He settled down to wait. He watched the clouds drift in snowy puffs across the skylight. He stared out at the trees, their leaves shimmering in the late afternoon sun. He thought about his parents—and then stopped because he was almost positive they were angry with him.
However angry they might be, he knew what he had to do. Look after Aunt Min.
He checked on her again.
“Hmph!” he repeated.
He wiggled. He stretched. He stared at his feet. Tingling again . . .
And that’s when Eddie (or possibly his feet) figured something out.
At that moment, the Library was his. All his. Not just the paper tray. Not just the desk. The whole magnificent, glorious, magical room. For however long it lasted, this Library—and every book in it—belonged to a bug named Eddie.
He might never have this chance again. . . .