This past school year, my friend and I worked in the library. It was either first period P.E or practically having a free period first thing in the morning. The decision wasn't hard. We would put the books away, checked in and out books, and would copy people's homework from the night before. It was great.
I would like to tell you some stories of my library experiences, but I have changed the names of the people in my stories to protect their privacy.
Well, everyday a sixth grader, named Corey, would visit the library. Corey was a pudgy, short, little kid, but he was adorable. My friend, Rose, and I would always talk to him. He told hilarious stories and we would always look forward to seeing him the following day. Everyday, he would check out two thick chapter books, there was absolutely no way he could read both in one night. Eventually, the librarians caught on, and told him to go back to class. Corey came to visit the library less and less.
One day, Corey came in and wouldn't talk. We asked him what happened, so he wrote it out for us. I felt like I was talking to Lassie, his hand writing was illegible, so we had to guess what he was trying to say. Supposedly, while he was brushing his teeth, the tooth brush fell out of his mouth. While his mouth was still open, the tooth brush hit a sharp razor, and the razor soared into his mouth, and cut the top of his tongue so badly, he had to get stitches. He wouldn't talk for a week, and claimed all he had been "eating" was water. After a week of him not speaking, he came in one day and was cured. The stitches were gone but he would NOT show us the scars. Confused? Yeah, so were we.
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