Unsettled by Murphy Shirley Rousseau

Author:Murphy, Shirley Rousseau
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: writing, drugs, teens, courage, families, poverty, life challenges, life affirmation
Publisher: Ad Stellae Books

Chapter 11

Jenny’s red cap and sweater reflected in the store windows, and the sharp wind teased at her. The sky was a dark mass of rain clouds streaked with clear light; the colors of the city seen against wet concrete and such a sky were incredibly rich.

She could see the library long before she reached it, a stone building surrounded by horse chestnut trees in new leaf, their branches touching the tall windows. Rain came on the gusty wind sometimes, the day seemed made of light—light and wind.

She liked seeing her reflection flashing, wearing red made her feel bright and free. She must have been smiling, because people smiled back at her. She wanted to shout, to run and shout, I’m me! I’m Jenny Middle!

As she entered the library her feeling of exuberance quieted and she stared around the huge rooms with a feeling of expectancy. The tall windows ended high above with rounded tops, sky and clouds could be seen through them, and the rain-colored light fell down across the books and across people’s heads as they sat reading. Jenny began to choose her books, taking her time at it.

Then she searched the three floors idly, browsing in each room. She came at last to the top where the architectural books were kept, and found Bingo seated at a table piled with open books and magazines. The light washed over his dark, clipped head and over the pale ivory pages of his sketchbook. He was drawing the treasures he had found, making them his own. He did not notice her. He took off his glasses once and wiped them on his shirt, but she had to sit down at his table and stare at him before he looked at her. His face had a forlorn look. “I’m not nearly ready.”

“I’m not in a hurry.” She looked with wonder at the piles of books.

“Look at this fortress, look how thick the walls are, how it angles over the hill.” The towers and steep roofs sent sharp shadows jutting across the battlements. “And I found two dragons; I’ve drawn them,” he flipped the pages of his sketchbook. The dragons were obviously of stone; he had done a careful rendering. Under one he had written, “Goslar,” and underneath the other, “Neuilly-en-Donjon.” Goslar and Neuilly-en-Donjon, the words sang themselves in Jenny’s head.

“And here are African mud houses with the outside walls painted in designs.” He rooted through the magazines, then handed her one. “And I’ve never seen these.” Bingo’s eyes shone; he pushed another magazine over the top of the first so she stared down at curved concrete interiors that followed the same shapes as the African mud houses, curves that you would like to feel with your hands. Bingo hardly knew when Jenny left him.

When finally he came down with his drawings clutched beneath his arm, he found Jenny sitting quietly in the reading room. In the soft leather chairs all around her, drab old men slept or read. She was watching them.

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