One minute I'm dreaming and the next Mari's shaking me gently awake. Groggy, I sit up and wipe my eyes, then take stock of my surroundings: I'm lying on a beanbag surrounded by shelves of colourful books. It's the library. I've fallen asleep in the library again.
"You're making a habit of this," says Mari, smiling. I smile back apologetically.
"I know Mari. I'm sorry. I was just so tired. I don't know . . ." But she shushes me, waves away my apology. Mari's the librarian. She must be about sixty, though she looks good for her age, her hair tied back in a neat little ponytail. She's also one of the coolest and kindest people I know.
"We're shut for the day," she says casually. "Come have a coffee with me."
I stand, gather up my coat and book bag and follow her to the front desk. She busies herself pulling out mugs and clicking on the little electric kettle she keeps there. I sit back in one of the swivel chairs and shake my head to try and clear the lingering grogginess.
"You looked like you needed a rest," says Mari. "Is school getting tough on you, finally?"
I laugh. I can't help it. Mari has this affect on me. "No," I say. "Not school. Just family stuff. My mum and dad."
Mari sits down opposite me and presents me with a steaming mug of coffee. I wrap my hands around it and let the wafts of steam wash over my face. It feels good. There's silence for a long minute, but a comfortable silence. Then Mari says, "Come on, let's talk about happy things. Tell me what's been happening since last we met."
And I do. We sit there for almost an hour, finishing our coffees and just talking. Not about Darren or my parents or anything, but about ordinary, stupid stuff. It feels so good, so simple. Like opening a valve on the back of my head and letting all the gloom and the sadness of the last few days drain out. I tell Mari all about my drawings and my classes and then we talk about travelling, about the places she's been and the places she wants to go. About the places I might go one day.
By the time I finish my coffee it's dark outside. I wait while Mari puts down the shutters on the library building, and then we walk down the high street together. At the end, just before we part ways, we stop.
"You all right getting home from here?" she asks. I nod; the streets are peaceful enough at this hour. Mari's looking at me in this strange, searching way. "You know," she says, "everyone goes through this sometime."
"Through what?"
"This," she says. "Feeling bad. It's just your turn right at the moment. You know that, right?"
I'm smiling again. "I know."
"That's what I like to see. You be careful now. And come back and see me soon, yeah?"
We part and I head off towards home. The night is chilly, but I don't feel cold. As a matter of fact I feel better than I have in days. Part of me wishes I could spend all night in the library, reading and talking to Mari.
I head away from the high street and out along the waterfront. There I pause for a moment and look out at the sea. In the dark it seems huge, a void, a glistening expanse of space. I take a few huge gulps of sea-scented air. I stand for a long time, just turning everything over in my head, looking at it from different angles, feeling--for the moment--at peace.
I'm just about to turn and head towards my house, when I glance down at the beach and catch sight of the girl.
